25 First Steps
Luca
Maeve’s head almost exploded when Lucian told her she had to stay back. If it wasn’t for Noah, I’m almost sure Lucian would be on her shitlist too.
“We can’t be focused on getting her if we’re also worried about you, too.”
As soon as the wheels screech to a halt, I’m out of the van. Checking over my gear. My knives are sheathed and ready to go. My pistol, extra magazines.
I walk around to the front of the van, where Lucian is smoothing out the blueprints to the house Gideon has been using as a secondary base of operations.
Noah comes to stand to my right, Jace to my left. I look at him out of the corner of my eye. His face is determined as always. I scoff and move to Noah’s other side.
If he thinks we’re going to continue to stand like brothers, he’s mistaken.
Isobel has been under Gideon’s hands for the last five months and he thinks that just because he had plans to take him down that it makes it all okay.
It’s not. I won’t be okay until Isobel is.
And from the stills Noah was able to retrieve, she’s anything but okay.
Lucian circles a section of the blueprint with his finger, jaw tight.
“This property was built in the seventies, remodeled twice. Most recent renovations were done under a shell corporation tied to Gideon’s shipping division.
Reinforced basement. Converted panic room.
Two exterior exits besides the main—north corridor and east loading gate. Cameras on every approach.”
Noah nods, already analyzing. “Thermal scans confirm at least six signatures on the first floor, four in the basement, two patrolling the outside. No sign of Gideon on site.”
My stomach coils. Good. Bad. Doesn’t matter.
All that matters is her.
Lucian looks at each of us, lingering on Jace a moment too long. “Your primary objective is Isobel. Nothing else matters. We will handle cleanup and extraction once she’s secured.”
Jace crosses his arms, jaw flexing. “We’re getting her out.”
“No.” I shake my head.
“Excuse me?” Jace turns, shooting me a glare.
“You’re excused. Because I will get her out. I don’t want Jace anywhere near her.” I stare at Lucian, willing him to agree with me. I’m not sure how Lucian keeps his feelings about this out of it.
Lucian holds my gaze then nods slowly. “Alright, Luca, you take point, get my girl out of there. Jace provide Luca the backup he needs. Noah, you’re point for systems override. You’ll guide them remotely.”
Noah nods, Jace grunts, shifting his weight.
Asshole hates not being in control. Well, too damn bad. Boo-hoo, motherfucker.
Lucian points at the blueprint. “We’ll go in through the east gate, there’s a blind spot between two cameras. Felix will suppress the yard guards from the southeast roofline. While, Kellan handles the outer patrol.”
Kellan and Felix both dip their chins.
“Once the path is clear, I’ll lead my team to infiltrate the house and take out Gideon’s men. We’ll take as many as possible for questioning.”
There are murmurs of agreement coming from the Guild members that surround us. Lucian folds the blueprint sharply, throwing it back inside the van.
“Let’s move out.”
Everyone moves.
All I can think of is her, down there, all this time.
My hands curl into fists before I can stop them.
Jace meets my eyes. I don’t know what he’s looking for. Maybe forgiveness, or some sort of camaraderie.
He’s out of his mind if he thinks he’s getting it.
I grab a rifle from the back, I check that it’s loaded, and grab a couple of extra magazines, clipping them to the belt. I loop the strap over myself and tuck it under my arm.
“Keep your head on a swivel.” Noah pats my shoulder, “I’ll be waiting for you all.”
I nod. I refuse to lose Isobel like we lost Tex.
She won’t be another casualty. I won’t lose her.
I pull my gaiter up over my nose and follow the lines of men as we head in formation towards the house. Noah’s voice murmurs through the comms; it’s almost calming as he runs live scans.
Lucian lifts his hand. Time to move.
We slip through the tree line, shadows moving in the contours of darkness. The compound rises in front of us. Up close, I can see the hidden fortification Gideon added. But if you didn’t know to look for it, you wouldn’t know.
We reach the first wall, Kellan crouches, readying a compact grappler device. It fires silently, rope anchoring with a soft metal click.
He nods. Lucian signals.
Felix takes the grappler up to the roof. Kellan swiftly takes out the first guard. Felix clears the roof.
Lucian’s men move in front of us to breach the house.
We move in formation along the outside and silently take out any guards we see.
We line up on either side of the front doors, pulling our masks on. Kellan swings the ram, the wood splinters and the door caves in. Lucian hurls the flashbang inside.
“Flash out!”
The blast shreds the silence, the concussive crack rattles my teeth. We move instantly, flooding through the entry in a smooth wave. I pivot left, rifle up, sweeping corners. Jace goes to the right, and men charge down the main hall.
Two guards stumble out of a side room, still disoriented. I don’t hesitate; I drive the butt of my rifle into the side of his jaw. I feel the crack and hear him drop to the floor.
The second guard tries to swing a punch toward me, but I snatch his wrist and twist hard, using his momentum to slam him against the wall. I jab the pommel of my knife into the base of his neck, his whole body shudders and goes limp.
“Left clear,” I call.
“Right clear,” Jace responds.
We push forward. The house is bigger than the blueprints suggested—long corridors, too many rooms, too much space. Every door we pass makes my chest cinch tighter.
Gunfire echoes from further into the house.
“Luca, make a right here, the basement door should be that way.”
I follow Noah’s instruction and move, keeping my gun trained and ready.
Jace and I sweep forward. An open hallway is neither of our favorite places to be. Guards round the corner in front of us, and we open fire. There’s no time for this.
“They heard the gunfire, and two guards are trying to move her. Move!” Noah yells into my ear.
I shoot a look at Jace, and we take off running, hopping over the guards lying in a heap on the floor.
“Take a left, they should be ahead of you.”
We turn, and I see them.
Two large men stand at the end of the hallway. A small form is on the ground that one guy is trying to pick up.
“Pick her up!” The guy on the left yells.
“You pick her up! She’s like dead weight!” the other barks back.
The words steal the air right out of my lungs.
Isobel’s head falls, her hair is greasy and tangled, with ash brown roots grown out against the black. Her arms hang useless at her sides. She barely looks alive.
“STOP!” I roar.
Both men jolt, startled, and Isobel slips from their grip and drops again. Her body doesn’t even try to catch itself. The guard on the left grabs a pistol from his waistband and shoots.
“Take cover!” Jace shoves me as a bullet whizzes by me.
Jace moves to the other side of the hallway as the gunfire explodes, ripping drywall around us. I lean out just enough to catch sight of the second guard dragging Isobel by her arms, her heels bouncing limp against the floor as he hauls her around the corner.
“ISOBEL!” Her name tears out of me.
I fire two controlled bursts down the hall, forcing one to duck back. Jace covers me, rounds smacking into the wall.
Reload. Rack. Breathe.
I steady the rifle against my shoulder and line up with the far end of the corridor.
“Left, now!” Jace snaps.
I pivot just as the first guard pops out again. My shot hits his shoulder, and he spins back with a cry, his weapon clattering to the ground.
The other guard is trying to drag Isobel past the doorway again, but he’s slow. I get a clear angle and take it.
The bullet embeds itself into his shoulder; he swears and scrambles back, pressing his hand to the wound.
I’m moving before the guard can even finish falling, boots hammering the tile, vision tunneling to the girl in the shredded shirt.
“Luca—wait!” Jace calls, somewhere behind me.
Fuck that.
I’m sliding across the floor to her as the men retreat. Jace forces them back with his shots.
“Isobel, Iz, wake up!” I pull her into my arms, rolling her gently onto her back.
Up close, she barely resembles the Isobel I remember. She doesn’t even look human.
Her skin is pale, almost translucent, with a gray cast to it that makes me wonder if it’s her actual skin. It’s stretched tightly over her bones. Her cheeks are hollow, sunken in so much that her cheekbones look like they could cut someone.
Her lips are cracked, raw, the bottom split open in the center. Dried blood gathers in the grooves. When she breathes, the smallest flake of it lifts and settles again.
Her eyes are barely slits—swollen, bruised, rimmed in red and purple. One is nearly closed from a hit that must’ve landed hard. When they open a fraction, her pupils are unfocused, just drifting in her head. The exhaustion etched so deeply into her I’m not sure how she’s conscious at all.
There are bruises everywhere.
Everywhere.
Some are old, yellowing and green. Some are fresh, deep purples and blacks blooming across her skin like spilled ink. Finger-shaped marks circle her arms and wrists. Her collarbone sticks out.
I recognize the remains of the black shirt that she was wearing five months ago, from the night she was taken. The thin shreds of fabric are hanging off of her. The shirt that was once skintight looks baggy on her frame.
She's so small.
Too small.
Her breathing is shallow and uneven. Every inhale lifts her chest only a fraction. Every exhale is a soft and shaky sound.
“Oh Iz…” I grab one of her hands to hold against me.
Her hands… Christ.
Her nails are broken and jagged, there's blood underneath them. She's trembling in my arms, even though she's unconscious. I hold her to me, willing some of my own body heat to enter her cold, frail body.