Chapter 22
Sera
I woke to warm air and the soft tick of water somewhere in the walls, and for a second, I had no idea where I was.
The barrel fire had burned down to a coppery glow, soot haloing the ceiling above it. Cinderblock. Peeling paint. The ghost of a NATO crest on the far wall. Right. We were underground. My brain caught up half a beat after my body did.
Also, I was tucked under a wool blanket.
Annoyance prickled immediately. I didn’t remember lying down, and I definitely didn’t remember letting anyone tuck me in. Relief slipped in right on its heels, traitorous and warm. Of course they’d let me sleep.
I pushed up on one elbow, hair falling into my eyes, brain groggy and mouth sandpaper dry. The room smelled like smoke and old oil and… soap?
“Welcome back to the world of the waking, sleeping beauty.” Jamie’s voice drifted from the locker alcove.
He appeared a second later, wet hair shoved back, shirt clinging in places where his skin was still damp.
“Found some showers. The water’s lukewarm if you sweet-talk the valve. Cold if you look at it funny.”
“Lukewarm is a luxury,” Edward said from the bulkhead door without turning. His hair was wet too.
Aidan crossed my line of sight with a bundle in his hands and stopped when he realized I was awake. His hair was darker wet with a curl trying to come out at the tips. He smelled like soap. He held up a towel. “Brought this just in case.”
“Just in case what,” I muttered, and then remembered why my blanket felt extra scratchy.
I was still naked underneath it with their seed dried between my thighs.
“Just in case you wanted a shower,” he amended, perfectly deadpan, but then he added a wink, and I blushed.
Declan leaned his shoulder against the locker bank, equally damp, a clean shirt hanging open while he worked the buttons with his fingers. “We checked the stalls for surprises,” he said. “No turrets, no tripwires, just a temperamental boiler and a colony of truly offended mildew.”
Logan glanced up from a spread of gear he was repacking, cleaner now. “Take ten. We’re not moving out until everyone’s reset.”
I sat up fully and the blanket slipped down, exposing my bare breasts. Aidan stepped in without making a thing of it, passing the towel into my hands. Then he grinned and let his gaze rove up and down my naked body.
“Thanks,” I said, too rough to qualify as gracious. I stood, let the blanket fall back to the bedroll, and wrapped the towel tight around me. The cotton was thin, but it covered what it needed to cover.
The showers were tucked behind the line of lockers in a side room, a row of chipped tile stalls with rust-veined piping and a stubborn valve that complained when I twisted it.
The first blast was needle cold and I swore under my breath.
The temperature stuttered, steadied, crawled toward a little bit warm, which felt like heaven with the dust finally leaving my skin in gray rivulets.
I set my forehead against cool tile and just… breathed. The water beat a steady rhythm into the ache across my shoulders, down my spine. Blood, sweat, dust, grime, all of it slid into the drain until there was only me left: tired and clean and relieved.
Somebody had left a bar of ancient soap on the built-in shelf.
It lathered like stubborn chalk, but it did the job.
I scrubbed until the itch and ick of the tunnels let go.
Every now and then footsteps padded past on concrete, the soft murmur of voices—Jamie’s teasing tone, Edward’s low reply, Logan’s deep rumble, Declan’s laugh, Aidan’s quieter voice—all threading in and out of my awareness, reminding me I wasn’t alone.
When the water dipped toward cold again, I shut it off and wrung water from my hair with both hands.
The towel felt better now around clean skin.
I listened one more second, to the drip, to my pulse, to the calm that came when I let myself be human for a minute, then stepped back into the locker room.
Aidan looked up first, and his mouth did that small, unguarded tilt I was starting to recognize. Declan’s eyes warmed and he smiled at me. Logan didn’t comment. Edward handed me a second towel without a word and gestured to my hair. I nodded and allowed myself to almost smile at him.
“Better?” Aidan asked.
“Less likely to bite or growl,” I said; then, because honesty cost nothing when I chose it, “Yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” he said lightly. “Thank the boiler that decided to be kind.”
“Already wrote it a love letter,” Jamie said. “Signed ‘not freezing to death, cheers.’”
I toweled off and Jamie, looking insufferably pleased with himself, produced a neat stack he and Edward had scavenged: a black thermal long-sleeve shirt, charcoal cargos, clean socks, even a pair of lace-up boots that were barely broken in.
I put on my bra and panties, then the shirt, and stepped into the pants.
They sat right on my hips like they’d been waiting here this whole time just for me. The boots fit nicely too.
I buckled a borrowed belt, slid a knife into the sheath attached to it, and looked up at the men who’d found all this for me.
My gaze locked on Aidan first. His dark hair was still damp, and his eyes were that impossible green that makes the rest of the world go quiet. Broad shoulders, sleeves pushed to his forearms, the easy steadiness of a man who can carry more than his share and pretend it weighs nothing.
Declan leaned on a locker like he’d been born there, a scar along his jaw catching the firelight.
He was all solid lines and impressive strength, his muscles bulging through the fabric of the clean shirt he didn’t bother to button all the way.
His eyes—storm-gray with a hint of blue—watched me like he knew exactly what I needed before I did.
Logan looked like command given a body: dark hair, cut close at the sides and longer up top, still damp and pushed back with his fingers.
Angular features, a lush mouth, those dark, unblinking eyes that missed nothing.
Even cleaned up, he carried dust and authority the same way, both without apology.
Edward stood at the bulkhead. Neat dark hair all combed back. Icy gray eyes. Tall, lean, edges all squared away. He’d rinsed the grime off and somehow managed to look more dangerous for it, but with a protective streak I thought I could come to depend on.
Then there was Jamie, wiry and loose-limbed, reddish-blond hair damp and rebellious, a conglomeration of damp curls refusing to obey any sort of order.
Bright blue eyes with that wicked light that said he’d already thought of three bad ideas and one brilliant one.
He’d shaved, leaving a scrape of stubble behind.
Five wolves, five men. Mine, whether I wanted to say it out loud yet or not. I didn’t. Not yet.
“Better,” Jamie said, giving me a onceover like he was checking on gear, not a woman. “Looks like the clothes chose right.”
“They’ll do,” I said, but I couldn’t help smiling in return.
Logan zipped his pack closed and thumbed the push-to-talk on his radio. “Zara, come in.” Static hissed back at us, thin and endless. He tried again, cycling through their agreed channels, then the backups. “Zara, it’s Logan. Report.” More static.
He lowered the handset, jaw tight. “Nothing. Concrete and rebar are blocking the signal.”
Edward nodded once, unsurprised. “This place is a Faraday nightmare. Even the emergency repeaters are probably dead.”
Jamie slung his rifle over his shoulder. “Could always try standing on one leg and singing a hymn.”
“Please don’t,” Logan said, but it was fond in the way only a friend could get away with. He didn’t have to say he was worried; it was written in his body language by the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes kept ticking to the door like he was waiting for something.
“She’ll be alright,” I said, and meant it. “Your sister’s smart. If the river route gave them trouble, they’ll hug the bank and keep moving.”
Aidan backed me, calm as a pond. “Magnus will keep their heads. They’ll be fine.”
Declan added, “And the bastard was busy herding us. Likely he didn’t have eyes on both groups.”
Logan exhaled through his nose. He lifted the radio again like it weighed more now. “We’ll try again when we find a vent shaft or a stairwell to the next level. Every thirty minutes.” He glanced at the scuffed dust on the floor.
“Agreed,” Edward said.
Logan looked around the room one last time, ever the leader. “Form up. Edward on point. Jamie tail. Aidan, Declan, keep Sera between you. If we hit a vertical void or service stair, we pause for a radio check. No heroics, no unnecessary noise.”
“Copy that,” Edward and Jamie said together.
I tightened my belt, checked the blade on my belt one last time.
Aidan brushed my shoulder when I moved past. Declan’s knuckles tapped my arm just to let me know he was there.
Logan doused the barrel fire with a bucketful of cold water until it hissed out.
Edward cracked the bulkhead door and listened; we all did, holding our breath as we listened for any sign of movement.
We stepped into the hall, footfalls soft on dusty concrete. I wanted to say something that would make the worry leave Logan’s face, but I knew what he was feeling. There was nothing that could be done until he could get in contact with his sister.
“Next junction,” Edward murmured. “Left is collapsed. Right one is open. Air’s moving.”
“Right,” Logan said.
“Let’s go,” I replied, setting my mouth in a firm line.
I slid to the front before anyone could argue, lifted a hand for silence when Logan opened his mouth to protest, and took the first corner without waiting for them to say anything against me taking point. The tunnel breathed at me, stale air one way, fresher to the right.
I chose the right.