FORTY-SIX #3
“Mhm,” I mutter, then I shut the start of those thoughts down, resorting them to just things almost as quickly. Can’t get into those thoughts when there’s something more important on the line. Instead, I look past the cage to the warehouse behind it.
There are floodlights. Two patrols. Three roof points. One cargo truck backed against a loading bay. A helicopter pad marked in faded white paint on the far side of the lot.
Transport.
My bond pulls toward that warehouse with a yank hard enough that it tries to steal the air right out of my lungs. Hell, I’d give every ounce if it meant getting Dakota out of here.
“She’s inside,” I tell them.
Fletcher’s focus sharpens. “Entry points. East loading bay, roof ladder, storm tunnel grate.”
“Storm tunnel,” Xeon says after a single beat. Fletcher looks at him, and Xeon points toward the far drainage line. “Less light. Not as many guards. They’re trusting the infected more than the fence.”
Ewan removes his headphones then, dropping them around his neck before tilting his head, listening carefully. “Two guards by the grate. One’s having a cig. One’s pacing. Pattern is lazy.”
Maine shifts forward but I catch his sleeve without looking at him. He stops, just barely.
“I know,” I say.
His jaw trembles. “You don’t.”
I look at him then.
I think of Dakota’s hand on my face, of the truth I handed to her because she gave me a reason to believe it again after so many years.
You are dangerous.
So am I.
That doesn't make us unsafe.
“I do know what it’s like to have someone make a weapon out of family,” I tell him quietly, flashes of my father running through my mind without prompting.
I lock those fuckers down, too, and add, “Don’t let them make a weapon out of your love for your sister.
That’s how they’ll get you, too. Only, they don’t need you alive. Dakota does.”
Maine’s eyes shine and I can tell straight away that he absolutely hates me for being right. That’s okay. He can hate me while he’s still breathing.
We move on Fletcher’s signal. Xeon reaches the first guard before the man even hears him. His hand wraps over his mouth so quick that the guy can’t catch his next breath. Then he receives a blade under the ribs and he goes down as silent as the dead. The actual dead, not the groaners or screechers.
Ewan takes the smoker with a suppressed shot through the throat and Fletcher catches the body before it falls against the fence. Maine stares for one breath, a little stunned, then helps lower it.
I cut the lock on the grate. Inside, the storm tunnel runs directly under the warehouse, narrow and wet, lined with old pipes and fresh cables. The cables are new. Too clean. Too organized.
Vector has been here way longer than tonight.
At the inner access point, Fletcher pauses and raises one fist. There are voices above and then a door. Two men stomp down metal stairs, laughing quietly.
“…shipment moves at dawn,” one says. “Omega first. Drives after.”
NOVAC drives.
My fingers tighten around my knife.
“Commander’s payment better be worth this,” the other mutters.
Payment.
Hale.
Ewan’s eyes go black with rage. The same kind of rage I can feel spreading through my chest like its very own infection.
Fletcher touches two fingers to the ground.
Wait.
I do wait, but only barely.
The first man reaches the bottom step and then I move.
I take him by the throat and drive him into the wall hard enough to dent metal.
My blade slides between his ribs before he can gasp.
Then the second reaches for his gun but Xeon is there.
He breaks the guy’s wrist and Ewan catches the weapon before it can clatter against the floor.
Maine clamps a hand over the guy’s mouth, shaking with the effort not to shout.
Fletcher leans in close to the guard’s ear and, with a deadly calm I can appreciate, asks, “Where is she?”
The guard’s eyes roll so I take that as an invitation to press my blade against his lower stomach. It’s not enough to kill, but I’d like to consider it enough to promise a memorable education. “Where?”
Looks like he’s decided to understand me a little better than Fletcher. Fear holds that kind of power.
“Processing,” he chokes behind Maine’s hand, the word muffled but audible enough that I catch it. “Second floor. Medical cage row. Please.”
Medical cage row.
Something inside me goes silent. There’s nothing calm about it. We’re past that point. Hell, I don’t think I even know what calm is right now. Fletcher knocks him unconscious with the butt of his knife before I can kill the fucker.
We climb the metal stairs and the warehouse smells grow thicker the higher we go. Smells like blood, disinfectant, rot, suppressants, and old fear.
On the first level, we pass cages. Some are empty and some aren’t.
A torn sweater in one, a fucking kid’s shoe in another.
Blankets stiff with old scents and restraints bolted to floors.
Crates of Omega suppressants are stacked next to scent blockers, shock collars, heat dampeners, NOVAC-labeled drives, stolen medical kits, and cargo tags marked by destination codes.
Collectors.
Traffickers.
Scientists.
Literally just scavengers with paperwork.
Ewan looks like he might be sick while Fletcher’s hands curl once. Xeon doesn’t look away from any of it.
Maine whispers, “Kota saw this.”
No one answers, because we all know. There’s not a single doubt in my mind that she would have understood exactly what kind of hands had taken her.
My bond pulls again.
Up.
Left.
Close.
A sliver of fear slips through it, right before the pain. Then Dakota’s rage, bright enough to cut through the drugs and through my own anger bleeding through my veins.
She’s alive and she’s still fighting.
I lift my blade right before bodies start hitting the floor. Before Vector knows we’re even inside the building.
A guard turns and Xeon takes his voice first while Ewan takes his gun. Fletcher takes his feet and I take his life.
After that, we move through the corridor like one unit with five points, not shouting or wasting movements. We move without mercy for men who have built cages and labeled them as transport.
At the end of the hall, a red light glows above a reinforced door. My bond pulls harder toward it, strong and so sharp my breath leaves me.
Dakota.
I stop and Fletcher stops right next to me. Ewan lifts his weapon at the ready and Xeon steps close to the lock. Maine raises the shotgun, hands way steadier now.
Inside, something metal crashes.
Then Dakota screams.
Not fear.
Pure, unbridled fury.
My control doesn’t break then. It simply becomes a weapon of its own making.
I look at the men beside me and say coldly, “Open it.”
Vector doesn’t even know we’ve arrived until the door comes off its hinges.