Chapter Seventy-Eight
AJ
The forest smells like pine and damp earth. Any other time, it’d be refreshing. But now…it’s nothing but the scent of a fresh grave.
Static crackles over comms. The reception out here is shit, but the tech Pritchard sent is straight out of a Tom Clancy fever dream.
Four tactical drones, enough firepower to blow up a small city, and a satellite hub to connect us to Zephyr.
God only knows how he managed to get the two large crates to Odessa so fast.
Connor finishes dragging the last of the camo netting over the three ATVs behind us. This is as close as we dare get to the compound. Here, the trees hide us from view, but less than a quarter mile away, it’s nothing but open prairie with the occasional weeping willow or oak. Nowhere to hide.
The glow of the drone’s monitor paints Hardison’s face in a ghostly green light, making his hard angles even sharper.
“If you don’t slow down,” Zephyr says, her voice whisper-quiet in our ears, “they’re going to spot the drone and this whole operation goes sideways.”
“I am going slow,” Hardison mutters. “This is me out for a Sunday drive.”
The sound she makes is something between a snort and a laugh. “Hardly. I’m taking over, Nate.”
He throws his hands up. “Oh sure, by all means. Just remember, when you crash it, I get to say ‘I told you so.’”
“Here we go,” Zephyr says. “Two sentries on the northwest and northeast towers. They’ve got AKs. Plus floodlights. Good ones. You try to approach on foot, they’ll pick you off from half a mile away.”
“Fuck. Check out the south side.” I stop pacing to peer over Hardison’s shoulder.
“Where do you think I’m going next? Patience, grasshopper.”
I ball my hands into fists.
Don’t piss off the tech goddess. We need her.
It takes her almost ten minutes to skirt the edges of the compound. It’s that fucking big. “No floodlights on the southeast tower. Southwest though…same setup as the other three.”
“Because they think no one’s stupid enough to scale that cliff face,” Connor mutters, leaning against the ATV.
“Yeah, well, guess we’re gonna draw the short straw.” Nate shakes his head. “Nothing like a little breaking and entering at four a.m. to get the blood pumping.”
Four a.m. Grace has been gone almost ten hours. My mind won’t stop running worst-case scenarios. All the ways this Prophet asshole could have hurt her—and Parker—in that amount of time.
“Taking the drone in deeper now,” Zephyr says. “Keep your eyes peeled.”
Jasper and Connor huddle around the monitor with us. The drone’s night vision is state-of-the-art, and the image is so crystal clear, it’s like watching a movie. A terribly boring movie with a life-and-death test afterward.
Greenhouses. Barns. A low, squat, gray building in the distance… So much of the topography mirrors Grace’s sketches. When the drone flies over the center of the compound, I lose my breath completely.
Fuck.
There’s the altar. The lanterns are lit, and around it, the remains of a fire smolder in a kind of sick and twisted moat.
“Find her window,” I hiss. “That’s where she’ll be.”
“You don’t know that,” Connor says, his hand steady on my shoulder. “We’re hopin’ that’s where he’s put her. We don’t know for sure.”
I turn and glare at him. “She’s in there.”
Jasper shifts beside me. “If she is, Parker’s likely nearby. She’s his leverage to keep Grace in line.”
Hardison spins around, shoving Jasper with an almost feral growl. “She’s a person. Not a poker chip this asshole gets to toss on a table.”
My brother’s right. But so is Nate. “Stand down. Both of you. Jas, don’t you ever call Parker leverage again. Even if that’s exactly what she is to their damn Prophet.”
Jasper blows out a breath. “Fine. But we’re splittin’ hairs here. And we still don’t know where the fuck she is.”
“Zephyr, how close to Grace’s window do you think you can get the drone?” I return my gaze to the monitor, watching the drone make its third pass over the altar.
“If I dip much lower, even running dark, someone could see it,” she says.
Fuck.
“We should go in now. Hit ‘em hard and fast. Before sunrise.” I’m already moving toward the ATVs when Connor grabs my arm.
“And walk straight into a kill box? AJ, they’ve got AKs on every tower, choke points at the gate, and God knows how many men inside. We go now, we’ll have no cover. The best time to move is right before the ceremony. Eight thirty, eight forty-five tonight. Maximum chaos.”
“That’ll be too late.” The words tear through my heart like jagged knives.
“The poison could kill her long before the blade does. The fucker knows he failed last time. What if he gives her twice as much? What if he cuts her throat rather than just stabbing her in her side? What if he’s already done it… ?”
Hardison clears his throat. “Cap—”
“No!” My shout is too loud. Even here, almost ten miles from the compound, the sentries, my wife, I know I’m being reckless as fuck. But I don’t care. “Every minute we wait, is a minute closer to Grace dyin’. And once Grace is dead…Parker’s next.”
For several long moments, the only sounds come from the forest. The skitter of the occasional squirrel. The hoot of an owl. The whisper of tree branches in the light breeze.
Then Hardison pipes up, his tone light but the words obviously forced through a clenched jaw.
“Well, gentlemen, glad we’re all in agreement—storm the death cult at dawn, die a glorious death, and maybe our heirs get a movie deal out of it all.
” He taps the monitor, right over the Prophet’s house.
“If we want to live long enough to have a say in the casting decisions, we need intel from inside.”
Connor pulls off his black cap, runs a hand through his hair, and tugs it back on again. “How, exactly, do you propose we do that?”
Hardison glances at me and shrugs. The move would be casual if anyone else did it. But for him…it’s tension personified. “Get a message in. To Grace. To Parker. Both if we can. Tell ‘em to stall any way they can.”
“You planning on walking up to the gate and passing them a goddamn note?” I ask.
With a small shake of his head, Hardison blows out a long, slow breath. “We got a perfectly good drone in the air right now. You say Grace is in that bastard’s house? Let’s find out.”
Zephyr cuts in. “And if I get too close trying to see in that window? You lose the element of surprise. Be damn sure you’re willing to take that risk.”
I pin my gaze to the screen. The drone is hovering a good twenty feet over the roof. All the windows are dark. Grace could be in there. Alone. In pain. Afraid. Or…she could be anywhere.
“Cap.” All the humor has vanished from Hardison’s tone. “This is a huge fucking risk. But it’s also our best chance.”
Connor blinks, almost startled. “Jesus. He’s not even being sarcastic anymore.”
Hardison doesn’t look away from me. “That’s how you know I’m right.”
Grace
The light from the nearly full moon slashes across the end of the bed. The cloying scent of oleander clings to my lungs, suffocating me even through the sheet I hold to my mouth and nose.
The thin, scratchy blanket wrapped around my shoulders is my only source of warmth. Of comfort.
My thoughts chase themselves in jagged, broken loops.
Parker screaming as they dragged her away.
The bright lights, gnawing hunger, and ear-splitting sounds inside the box.
The ceremony.
The poison. Cramping muscles. Pounding head.
Lying on cold stone.
Ropes holding me down.
The chanting. The lanterns. The blade piercing my side.
Another sob rips from my throat. I don’t have any more tears to cry.
I’m so dehydrated, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth.
But the last time I tried to make it to the bathroom for water, I collapsed, landing in a pile of oleander blooms. If I’d had anything in my stomach, I would have lost it right then.
I pin my gaze to the window. It’s only an illusion of freedom, but I’ll take an illusion over my own spiraling thoughts.
Something flickers red just beyond the glass. But then it’s gone again.
I rub my eyes, then wince as I catch the edge of the incision at my temple. When I look again, it’s gone. Until…it’s not. This time, it’s not just a single pulse. It’s a whole series of them. A pattern.
No. It’s not possible. I’m hallucinating. Or…am I?
Dragging the blanket with me, I crawl over the carpet of flowers, my knees aching, my palms crushing the blooms, until I can curl my fingers around the sill and pull myself up.
Pressing my palm to the glass, I strain to see what’s out there.
It’s all black. Almost…delicate. With four circular rotors moving so fast, they’re only vague blurs.
My heart stutters in my chest. I force my fingers to bend.
Make a fist. Thumb pointed up. A.
Move the thumb across the fist. Pinky finger out. Draw a J.
The red light blinks once.
Tears blur everything. I didn’t think I had any left, but for AJ…apparently I do.
I point to my chest. Then cross my arms. Then point to the drone.
I love you.
Another flash.
The drone drifts closer. One edge presses right against the glass, and a low sound seeps through the pane. At first, it’s only a subtle vibration, but then—
“Grace.”
AJ’s voice. It’s so faint, I have to press my ear flat to hear it.
“Coming for you. During the ceremony.”
No. No, no, no.
I wave my hands, desperate to make him understand. If he waits until the ceremony begins, it’ll be too late. The poison…
“Stall. Need fifteen minutes. After it starts.”
I shake my head, too hard, too long. A wave of dizziness almost takes me down. But I grab on to the sill, straining to hear.
“No other option. Where’s Parker?” AJ asks.
I pull back enough to sign B-O-X. then point to the edge of the group of houses. I never told AJ about the box. I couldn’t remember anything beyond the sound and utter despair.
“Love you. Always.”
The drone rises, higher and higher, until I can’t even see a tiny speck of black against the pre-dawn sky.
The silence filling the room is unbearable now. I crumple to the floor, clutching the blanket around me, and press my back to the wall. Relief and terror twist together until they’re practically one emotion.
AJ’s here. But if I have any hope of seeing him again, I have to survive long enough for him to get to me.
I’m too weak to fight Prophet. Or Brother Malone.
Or…anyone. I try to muffle my sobs in the blanket, but I’m cracking into pieces, and they’re so loud, I’m petrified Prophet will hear them.
That he’ll somehow know about AJ. About the drone.
And that will not only be my end, but the end of everyone I love.