17 Die Fighting #2
We duck low behind a steel crate stamped with foreign serials.
Luca scans the perimeter through a scope, and Noah taps silently into a surveillance feed.
A shaky drone image flickering on his wrist screen—low-res, but enough to count three guards by the main container unit and another two pacing along the southern fence.
“I’m guessing he’s here,” Noah whispers. “Thermal pings. Inside that black container, center grid. It's guarded.”
Dakota’s jaw clenches. “Luca, Isobel—you flank left. Sweep the fence line and create a path. Noah and I will hold our position and monitor movement. No guns unless they fire first.”
Rules. Lines. I keep them in mind, even as my pulse thrums with adrenaline and rage.
Luca and I move out, ducking under rust-stained railings and skirting puddles slick with oil. I could feel the weight of Tex’s memory pressing on my back—like a vow burning under my skin.
I keep Maeve’s words close. Use my anger as fuel. I won’t let it take over.
The first guard comes into view, his footsteps lazy. Luca signals to me behind a container. I wait for the beat of his breath, then lunge forward, catching the man in a chokehold and dragging him into the shadows. He doesn’t make a sound before crumpling to the ground.
Luca gives me an impressed nod. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
“One more by the fence,” I whisper. “Let’s go.”
We move fast in sync. I don’t feel the cold anymore. Just the heat of purpose and memory.
When we reconvene with Dakota and Noah, three guards are down, stashed in silence, and the path to the central container is wide open.
“The lock’s digital,” Noah murmurs. “Should only take me sixty seconds to crack it.”
Dakota crouches beside him, gun drawn, gaze sweeping the shadows. “We don’t have long.”
I keep watch, eyes peeled for movement, fingers twitching at my side. Every clang of metal, every whisper of wind feels like it could be a trap.
“Got it,” Noah hisses. The door creaks open.
Inside, it isn’t weapons we see first—it’s rows of boxes, each marked with red ink, some partially opened. Then, a voice crackles through a portable comm unit on the floor.
“They’re inside,” a man says, “right on schedule.”
Dakota freezes. “It’s a setup.”
All hell breaks loose.
Gunfire erupts outside, echoing off the steel walls. Noah dives for cover, and Luca shoves me behind a crate as bullets punch through the container’s exterior.
“Ambush!” Dakota yells from the doorway, returning fire. “They were waiting for us!”
Of course they were. I mentally berate myself for not seeing through Daniel’s ruse. We should’ve anticipated this.
I shake my head; there’s no time for that. I scramble to my feet and press my hand to my ear. “Pull out!” I yell. “Fall back to the north fence. Secondary exit! We’ll cover you!”
“Copy!” Luca calls back. He grabs Noah by the arm and hauls him toward the exit.
Dakota and I are the last ones out, running low, dodging gunfire that sparks off the containers around us. My lungs burn. My mind is already flipping through escape routes.
“We’ve got to split up,” Noah calls out, “Get Isobel out, we’ll lead them away.”
“Got it.” Dakota nudges me, and we take off running. We make our way to a corridor, hoping to make our way through the building and out the other side.
We cut through the shadows, stepping around rusted chains and crates. The warehouse creaks with age and secrets. Lights flicker above, casting long, fractured shadows across the steel grates.
That’s when I feel it. That weight in my gut. The whisper of danger brushes the back of my neck.
A prick, then coldness running through my body.
I turn around.
“What...?” my voice trails off.
The world tilts. My body weighs a thousand pounds. Darkness dots across my vision.
Dakota’s eyes. Cold and hard. Her face is completely blank.
“Take her. Tell him I’ll be there soon.” Her voice distorts in my ears.
What’s happening?
Then everything goes black.
I’m cold. The air smells like mildew and iron.
A damp stone floor presses against my cheek.
Every inch of my body throbs, especially my side.
Each shallow breath is like dragging glass through my lungs.
I don’t open my eyes, just letting the pain wash over me.
Trying to gather my bearings. To remember…
My eyes fly open. A groan tears from my throat as I roll onto my side.
Chains clink around my wrists. I tug at them.
They’re not too tight, but it’s enough to limit me. My vision swims before settling.
And there she is. Across the dim concrete room, sitting in a chair, is Dakota. Her cold eyes just stare at me.
“Dakota?” My voice is weak, raw.
I try to sit up, gasping as the pain in my ribs flares. My arms tremble beneath my weight.
“I don’t unders—”
“Shut up.” Her words are clipped. She rolls her eyes.
I stare at her. She’s not chained. She’s relaxed, lounging in her chair. The room is dim, the single flickering bulb overhead casting harsh shadows across the cement walls.
“No...” the word is barely a whisper. My mind is racing. I can’t grab a single thought.
She smirks in a way that makes my stomach roil. “You can’t really think I’d just hand everything over to you?”
I can’t find the words. But she doesn’t wait.
“You were never supposed to be here.” Her tone is almost pitying.
She tilts her head, voice calm like she’s explaining something simple.
“You were gone. No one thought Lucian would ever find you. You were never supposed to come back. I was the daughter Lucian had. He married my mom. He trained me. I worked my ass off to prove that I’d be able to take Lucian’s place. ”
“But you?” She lets out a short laugh, flat and humorless. “You just walk back in after being missing for thirteen years with your big, sad eyes and victim story. And Lucian’s ready to hand everything over to you without a second thought. I was thrown aside like a spare part; it was all about you.”
Her words are knives. Each syllable cuts away at the memories I thought were real.
“He’s my dad. You—” My throat closes up. “Dakota, you’re my sister.”
“No.” Her words cut deep, “You were just the competition, I needed to show Lucian that I was the better choice. While you’re over here floundering, I was leading my own team on successful missions.
But no, it’s all about his precious ‘Gracie’.
Even when you get your team members killed. You’re still his choice.”
Something in the back of my brain wriggles free. I suck in a breath.
My voice wavers. “You. It was you. You told Daniel about Tex.”
A cruel smile grows across her pretty face, something deranged lighting behind her eyes. Her laugh is light, like I just told her the funniest joke.
“Oh, Isobel. Sweet, stupid Isobel. He couldn’t have knocked you around that badly if you were able to figure that one out.
Honestly, I thought it’d take you longer.
It was so easy, just handing over your lover.
Tex was a nobody by Guild standards, really.
I guess I should say was. He didn’t belong in the first place.
And you, you cheap slut, moved on to his friend before his body could start rotting in the ground.
Newsflash, Isobel, you’re not going to lead the Guild.
Someone like you isn’t fit to lead us, you never were. ”
My pulse hammers in my ears. The world blurs until it’s just her, standing there with that smug little smile like the last year of my life was nothing but her game.
“You betrayed me.” My voice cracks on the words, raw with fury. “You sat in my room. You listened to me. Made me believe you cared. Acted like you’d be my sister.”
She shrugs, almost amused. “I did care, in a way. Just… not about you.”
Rage burns so hot in my chest I can’t breathe. The back of my neck tingles with heat.
“You—” My body lurches forward before I even realize it, the chains stop me abruptly and I go flying back.
Dakota tilts her head, eyes sparkling with twisted delight. “You’re no match for me. Anyways, I watched you fall apart over the last few months over him. I almost felt bad… almost.”
Something inside me rips open. My vision burns red, and the roar that tears out of my throat doesn’t sound human.
Dakota’s laugh echoes off the walls, sweet and ringing, like she’s won.
The sound of a metal door scraping open rips through the space.
Dakota doesn’t even bother to stand. Two men step into the room. Both are big, stocky. One has a jagged scar along his jawline, the other wears a thick gold chain that looks fake.
“She’s awake now,” Dakota drawls lazily.
The scarred one sneers. “Took her long enough.”
They stalk toward me and my blood runs cold.
“Well, well,” the scarred one rubs his hands together. “Ain’t she a pretty thing.”
His eyes drag over my body, slow and unhurried, lingering far too long.
“Bet she gives as good as she looks,” the one with the chain says, licking his teeth. “Think they’d really care if we had a little fun?”
“I don’t give a shit,” Dakota says as she examines her nails.
I scramble back, until my back is pressed against the wall. Every nerve in my body is screaming.
“Don’t come near me.”
But I can smell him now—sweat, smoke, something rotten underneath. His boots stop inches from mine.
“She’s got that fight in her,” Scar Jaw murmurs. “Bet that’s why Gideon’s keeping her alive.”
“Nah, he’s gotta be keeping her alive cause she’s pretty,” chain dude replies.
“You’re both sick,” I hiss, glaring at them.
They just grin.
Chain dude crouches in front of me, his breath sour, his presence suffocating. His hand—thick, calloused, disgusting—reaches for my face.
“Don’t,” I warn, my voice low and shaking.
But his fingers brushed the curve of my cheek anyway. The touch lit a fuse of pure rage in my chest. I twist away, heart hammering so hard it makes my ribs ache.
“You think that fire of yours is gonna save you?” he sneers. “You’ll burn out, sweetheart. They all do.”
“I’d rather die fighting than live on my knees,” I spit back.