Chapter Six
Lucas
I watched as everyone gathered around the map spread out on the makeshift table, each of us casting shadows under the dim light. The tension in the air was thick, like the moment before a storm. I could feel their energy—different personalities, different strengths, but all bound by the same, relentless urge to fight back. This raid was our chance to hit the shifters hard, to reclaim some power. And now, with her here, maybe a chance to save more lives than we’d initially planned.
“We go in at dawn,” Callum said, his voice steady, pointing to a crumbling warehouse marked on the map. “They’re vulnerable there—shift change happens around then. And if we’re quiet enough, we can get in and out before the next wave of guards even knows what hit them.”
I nodded. “Agreed. But it’s not just about grabbing weapons.” My eyes shifted to Annika, watching as she followed the conversation intently, absorbing every detail. “There are prisoners held there. Humans, vampires… people who’ve been missing for weeks. If we’re careful, we could free some of them on our way out.”
Lena rolled her eyes slightly, fingers tapping a rhythm on her keyboard. “Freeing prisoners complicates things. We need to be fast, surgical. You start rescuing people, and you risk getting everyone caught. First, we get the weapons. Then, we arrange another attack to focus on the prisoners.”
“There’s no time,” I told her. “And that’s why we plan every little detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem. The shifters’ guards are predictable—they don’t expect anyone to hit this early. But freeing people sends a message. It’s not just about a hit-and-run; it’s about them realizing they’re vulnerable.”
Lena’s gaze flicked to mine, skeptical but grudgingly respectful. “If we’re going to try, I’ll map out where they hold the prisoners. We’ll need you, Isaac,” she said, glancing at him. “You know those halls better than any of us.” Isaac sat quietly in his corner, listening. I could see something flare up in his eyes at the mention of the prisoners, though he kept his expression neutral.
He nodded once, his voice barely above a whisper. “The south wing. They keep them close to the loading dock. If we time it right, we could slip them out the back while everyone’s distracted.” His tone was haunted, as if he’d mapped those halls a thousand times in his head, dreaming of escape.
Annika looked between us, her expression determined. “So we go in fast and silent, split up once we’re in, get the weapons and the prisoners, and make it out before the shifters regroup. It sounds… almost doable.”
The trio looked at her.
“This is a special operation,” Lena expressed everyone’s opinion. “We can’t risk a newbie screwing everything up.”
“I know I gave you no reason to trust me, but I need to find someone, someone who may be among those prisoners,” Annika spoke determinedly. “I can help.”
Callum inhaled deeply. From what I could see, he trusted her. So did I.
I nodded at her. “You and Callum will cover the exits. Lena and I will handle the weapons stash. Isaac will lead us to the cells.” I glanced around the group, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “We’ve got one chance at this, and we’re not wasting it.”
Callum grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Sounds like a plan.” He looked at her with approval, clearly impressed with her quick thinking, and I felt a swell of pride for her that I hadn’t expected.
“We do this tomorrow, at dawn,” I tell them.
Suddenly, I noticed something was wrong with Annika. She swayed, her face paling. Then, without any warning, she dropped, crumpling to the floor before I could even reach her. My chest tightened, and I moved to her side in an instant, kneeling down as Lena and Callum shot each other worried looks.
“Hey,” I said quietly, my hand resting on her shoulder, trying to bring her back. Her breathing was shallow, her skin clammy. I didn’t like how fragile she looked—she’d been so strong since she got here. This wasn’t her.
After a few tense moments, she stirred, her eyes fluttering open, disoriented but slowly focusing on me. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“Are you alright?” I asked, more breathless than she was.
“It’s nothing,” she murmured, her voice soft but steady as she attempted to sit up. “Just… the stress and exhaustion.” She gave a faint smile, brushing it off as if it were nothing. But something about the way she looked—her skin almost translucent in the dim light, her eyes duller than they’d been before—told me there was more to it.
“You sure?” I asked, searching her face, looking for anything that might explain it. The others hovered nearby, concern in their eyes. She nodded, giving me a determined look, but it didn’t ease the gnawing doubt in my mind.
As I helped her to her feet, a thought struck me—a troubling one. It was possible she was starting to transform. I bit her, and though she hadn’t shown any signs yet, that didn’t mean it wasn’t taking root somewhere inside her. Normally, the symptoms would show within hours—irritability, heightened senses, a kind of wild, volatile energy. But she hadn’t shown any of it… until now, maybe.
When I was sure she was steady, I gave the others a quick nod. “The plan stays. Same time.” I could tell they wanted to ask more, but they simply nodded, trusting I’d make sure she was alright.
Once we were outside, I kept close to her, keeping a hand on her arm as we moved through the streets. She was quiet, almost contemplative, and though she didn’t protest my help, I could tell she wanted to appear strong. I don’t think she realized that just made me want to protect her more.
As we reached my place, I led her inside, guiding her to sit down on the bed before she could protest. I kept my voice low, trying not to let any worry slip through. “Just rest for a minute and I’ll make us something to eat.”
She tried to protest, saying I didn’t need to bother, but I ignored her. She’d been through hell already, and there was something grounding about the simple act of cooking. It gave me something to focus on, something practical and concrete in the middle of all this chaos. I kept it simple—a stew I could pull together quickly with the odds and ends I had around. I hadn’t cooked for anyone in years, not like this. It felt… strange, almost intimate. But I didn’t mind.
When it was ready, I set the bowl in front of her, along with some bread I’d managed to keep fresh. She took a bite, her eyes lighting up a bit as she chewed. For a second, she just looked surprised, like she hadn’t expected me to be capable of something as ordinary as cooking. Then a small smile tugged at her lips.
“This is… really good,” she murmured, a hint of warmth in her voice. “Thank you.”
It was a simple compliment, but it landed deeper than it should have. I found myself smiling back, an ease settling in the space between us. She didn’t know it, but this small moment—her looking at me with something like trust, a small softness in her expression—drew me in even more. I’d been drawn to her since the alley, since that first moment when she offered herself to save me. But this was different. This was her, real and unguarded, just the two of us sharing a quiet meal in the eye of a storm.
She met my gaze, a hint of something shy in her eyes, and I could tell she was feeling it too—that tension, the unspoken pull that had grown between us since the beginning. I didn’t want to break it, didn’t want to ruin this calm we’d carved out in the middle of everything. So I just nodded, keeping my tone even, letting the words come out simple.
“I’m glad you like it.”
She looked down, and I could see a faint blush coloring her cheeks. In this moment, with the firelight flickering softly around her, she looked peaceful—almost fragile. But I knew there was strength in her. She was resilient, courageous, even after everything she’d been through. And that only made her more captivating.
As we sat there, the quiet between us lingering like a blanket, I decided to ask her something that had been on my mind since she first walked into my life.
“Do you believe in soul mates?” The words slipped out before I could second-guess myself, a little rougher than I’d intended. I watched her face carefully, gauging her reaction. Maybe I was testing her; maybe I was trying to understand why she’d thrown herself into danger to save me without a second thought.
She let out a short laugh, a skeptical sound, raising an eyebrow as she looked at me like I’d asked if she believed in fairy tales. “Soul mates?” She shook her head, smiling a bit like she thought I was joking. “Not exactly something I’ve had time to think about. Besides… no. Not really.”
That response hit deeper than I wanted it to. Something about the way she said it, the finality in her voice. It was like she’d closed a door and locked it up tight, somewhere inside herself. I could sense a hint of something—bitterness, maybe, or the trace of a scar that hadn’t quite healed. Whatever it was, it told me she’d been hurt, and she’d learned not to expect too much from anyone.
“So you don’t believe there’s one person out there meant for you?” I asked, keeping my tone light, careful not to betray too much of what I felt.
She shrugged, looking down at her bowl as she pushed the spoon around absently. “I guess it’s… a nice idea. But life isn’t that simple, is it? People hurt each other. They leave. I don’t know.” Her voice softened, a bit distant, like she was looking back on something painful. “Even if soul mates existed, I’m not sure I’d want to believe in it. Sounds like setting yourself up for disappointment.”
I nodded, not saying anything for a moment. I wanted to tell her that it didn’t have to be like that, that maybe she was wrong, that I’d spent a lifetime keeping everyone at a distance only to feel drawn to her like she was the only one who could fill that empty space. But I held my tongue. She didn’t need more pressure, more weight to carry.
“Maybe it’s not about perfection,” I said quietly, more to myself than to her. “Maybe it’s about finding someone who makes you… better. Or maybe someone who just makes sense, even when nothing else does.”
She looked up at me, her expression softer now, curious. I could tell she was listening, maybe wondering why I was asking, maybe trying to piece together what I wasn’t saying.
“Yeah,” she replied, a trace of a smile tugging at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Maybe.”
I watched her for a moment, just her, taking in the curve of her face, the subtle vulnerability that slipped through her tough exterior, the strength and wariness mixed together. She didn’t believe in soul mates. And maybe it didn’t matter whether she did or not. I believed enough for the both of us.