Chapter 16 - Raegan #2
The team moves out under the cover of darkness, following routes that keep us away from known patrol areas. My abilities remain on high alert as I keep watch for emotional signatures that might indicate hidden threats or opportunities.
The incomplete nature of my powers frustrates me more with each passing minute.
I can sense basic emotions and surface thoughts, but the deeper intelligence that could truly help the mission remains just out of reach.
The bond with Wyn provides some amplification, but without a complete emotional connection, I’m working at maybe thirty percent of potential capacity.
Thirty minutes into the mission, I catch something that makes my skin crawl.
“Stop,” I whisper into the radio.
Ash raises her fist, and the team freezes behind available cover.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Someone’s watching us. Multiple people, I think. About fifty yards ahead, elevated position.”
“Conventional surveillance shows nothing,” Tobias reports from his position with the spotting scope.
“Because they’re well-hidden and scared. Really scared. Like, ‘oh shit, we’re about to die’ scared.”
“Ambush?” Jay asks.
“More likely scouts who weren’t expecting us. But there are others nearby. Calm, confident, waiting for something.”
“Can you tell how many?” Ash asks.
I close my eyes and extend my psychic senses as far as they’ll go. The incomplete bond with Wyn limits my range frustratingly, but it’s enough to map the immediate emotional landscape.
“Six hostiles in position to our north. They’re not scared; they’re excited. Anticipatory. Like they’ve been waiting for this exact scenario.”
“Classic trap setup,” Jay comments. “Scared bait to draw us in, confident hunters positioned for the kill.”
“Not if we spring it on our terms,” Ash decides. “New plan. We circle around, use their overconfidence against them.”
As we prepare to move, something strange happens. The fear I'm feeling about the scared scouts ahead suddenly flows outward from me, amplified and directed. I don't consciously decide to do it—my abilities just reach out on their own.
One of the scouts, fifty yards ahead, suddenly jerks upright, panic flooding his emotional signature. He moves, giving away his concealed position completely.
"Movement," Tobias reports. "Target exposed."
I pull my psychic reach back, startled by what just happened, but knowing we need to keep moving. I'll figure out what that was later.
The next twenty minutes test every skill I’ve developed over the past couple of weeks. My psychic abilities guide the team through terrain that should have been impossible to navigate silently, reading the emotional states of sentries and patrols to find gaps in their awareness.
When conventional training kicks in to keep me alive as we encounter unexpected obstacles—loose rocks that would have given away our position, motion sensors camouflaged among natural vegetation—I begin to understand how both skill sets work together.
When we finally reach the observation point, what we find makes everyone’s blood run cold.
“Jesus Christ,” Tobias whispers through the radio.
Below us, spread across a natural valley, lies a Thornridge supply depot easily three times larger than our worst-case estimates. Weapons stockpiles, armored vehicles, enough equipment and supplies to support a siege lasting months rather than weeks.
“They’re not planning to hit us and run,” I realize aloud. “They’re planning to stay. This is an occupation force, not a raiding party.”
“Get everything recorded,” Ash orders. “We need detailed intelligence on those supply lines and defensive positions.”
For the next hour, we document enemy positions, supply routes, and defensive preparations. My psychic abilities prove invaluable for identifying which areas are actually defended versus which just look that way—the emotional signatures of bored guards versus alert sentries tell a clear story.
“They have a weakness,” I report as we prepare to withdraw. “The eastern approach is minimally defended because they think the terrain makes it impassable.”
“Is it impassable?” Dora asks.
“For conventional forces, yes. But not for small teams with psychic guidance to navigate the emotional landscape of hidden threats.”
The return journey passes without major incident, though my abilities detect several close calls we avoid through careful route selection. The weight of what we discovered keeps everyone quiet during the trek back.
When we reach the compound, Wyn is waiting despite the late hour. The relief on his face when he sees me unharmed rushes through our bond so strongly that it makes me stumble.
But that relief is quickly replaced by professional concern when Ash begins her debriefing to the assembled leadership.
As she recounts everything we found and explains how I was able to contribute, I catch Wyn’s eye. The pride I see there, mixed with lingering worry, tells me this mission changed something fundamental between us.
My abilities proved crucial to the mission’s success. My insistence on participation likely saved lives by identifying the ambush before it could be sprung. But more importantly, I demonstrated that partnership works better than protection.
The mate bond carries a new understanding—not completion, but progress. We’ve taken another step toward the emotional connection that will unlock my full potential.
We’re going to need every advantage we can get for what’s coming.