Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Alaska cold bites through everything; it seeps into the thin place behind my eyes where headaches live.
Low iron makes it worse, my hands never warming all the way anymore.
I tug my neck-high suit, catching the skin beneath my chin “Ouch.” I wince as I zip it up too quickly, rubbing at the pinched flesh.
The material seals heat in tight. I’ll take discomfort over frostbite any day.
Ana knew what she was doing, giving us these.
I smack the hand warmers against the sink until they hiss to life and shove them into my into my boots and gloves. My vest goes on next, straps pulling firm across my ribs until breathing becomes measured and controlled.
I check the mirror. My braid is tight with no loose strands, nothing to grab.
This is it. Our shot at what we’ve missed all year.
My hands shake with adrenaline as I reach for the hooded mask waiting on the counter.
I slide it over my head, and the woman in the reflection disappears, an operative standing in her place.
My hair blends into the fabric, my face swallowed in shadow. Anonymity settles over me like armor.
A knock rattles the hollow door. “Floren?—”
I open it before she finishes. “I’m ready.” I say.
Greer stands there already prepared, tucking stray hair behind her ears, her belt hanging loose around her toothpick-waist. She looks like a rumor instead of a person.
“Matt just dropped the delivery,” she mumbles.
I lean close to her ear, trying to offer a polite smile. “Take out the bling, they’ll catch the light.”
Greer mutters something under her breath and slips past me into the compact bathroom.
I make my way around the maze of bunkbeds.
The carpet sinks under my boots, worn thin from kids who ran here before this place died.
Graffiti crawls across the walls, names, dates, hearts…
ghosts of a normal life. Now it’s staging ground.
We’re stationed at an abandoned kid’s camp where BSPU (Bear Species Protection Unit) resides a few miles down the road at their own headquarters.
It’s a replica of our own back in Wyoming; all the land mammal headquarters are identical.
But when teams are traveling for missions, we pitch tents elsewhere close by to avoid watchful eyes.
Rusty hinges squeak as I push my way past the piece of plywood we’re using as a door.
Tetanus shots are probably in our near future.
Outside, Jett and Matt flank opposite sides of the trunk, revealing stacked cases and multiple duffels.
The men are dressed in puffers and muck boots, already wearing their earpieces since they’re handling the weaponry.
I motion them in, not leaving the door frame. It’s dark enough that I camouflage into the shadow of the screened porch. Boots thump behind me, the pace matching Nina’s.
“Bout time, boys.” She holds the plywood open as I lead them to the back of the cabin. “Pick a bed, any will do.”
The men carefully spread out the loads. Cici sits cross-legged on top of one of the beds, her iPad clicking rapidly in her lap. “Laptop, please.” She snaps a finger in my direction without looking as her eyes fly from side to side across the screen.
I snap my fingers back at her as I toss it up. “Here.”
Not a flinch. I know she can’t hear me. Her tapping slows and within seconds our earpieces light up in the foam case at her feet.
Blowing out a breath, she finally snaps her head up. “We’re ready.”
A slight buzz in my ear and a thumbs-up is all the green light I need.
“Testing, testing, one two,” Nina whispers swinging up into the space beside her.
“Alright, big dog, you’re the one with the magic thumb, not us.” Greer plops down on the bunk bed behind me.
The cases are all fingerprint coded. They only open for Ana, Nyx and I. Cici can override them in case of emergency.
I look to Cici for a signal that the area is clear, and she scans her screen for a beat before answering. “All clear.”
Crouching down, I flip up the rectangle caps, the red glowing across my face.
I hold my thumb steadily across the pad until I hear a click and the glow turns green.
I move down the line to each of our cases, leaving my own for last. The women hop to their feet, quickly loading their belts and sheaths.
The tremor in my hands come to an ease as my own case full of tricks and treats is revealed. Natasha followed my emails to a T.
My belt and vest droop as I carefully slip each gun and dagger into place. I leave adding on the lighter knives for throwing to my thigh straps for last. If needed, of course. But considering we have a whole pack here, I don’t see anyone surrendering at will.
“All accounted for?” I scan my team members for empty pockets. The ladies pat themselves down, checking, and give a thumbs up.
Cici gathers her electronics into her backpack, lugging it off the bed to strap it on.
She lifts on the toe of her boots, giving us a ballerina spin.
Since she’ll be hidden in the van with Matt, her skintight suit is camouflage instead of the mandatory midnight hue we wear for night missions.
Fitted around her is a brown belt with a small pistol attached for protection.
Though with the way her zipper keeps slipping from her neck, I doubt Matt will let a fly touch her.
Nina snickers, flexing out her hand to pull on her gloves. Her hair is perfectly pulled into a slicked back pony that curls just above the middle of her back. Nina’s curves alone could distract a firefight, the suit mapping the power in her thighs.
A knock on the wall catches our attention, Jett politely waiting in the frame, now dressed in his combat boots and gear. “Departing in ten, ladies.”
I look my team over once more. “We’re ready now.”
A single tap on Cici’s screen kills the lights to the cabin. Jett taps his earpiece, signaling to Matt that it’s go time.
I release a shaky breath, my hands darting to my weapons for comfort. “God please be with us,” I murmur under my breath.
The brake lights of the van pan into view. As the screeching breaks come to a halt, my mask slips solidly in place.
We jump in one by one, taking our seats on the benches.
Boots crunch in the snow and Nyx steps in smoothly, one gloved hand gripping the edge of the door, the other adjusting the device in his ear with cold precision, his journal gripped within his palm.
The faded red lights of the van wash over the angle of his face, sharpening the cut of his jaw and the deadly calm in his stormy eyes.
He ducks inside, steady and controlled. Jasper follows sharply on his heels with a different aura washing over him. The light in Jasper’s eyes hold a gentle warmth as he greets us. “Evening” he murmurs.
The two could form a hurricane with their energy, the air shifting around them as they move.
Nyx passes us, taking his seat beside Matt, while Jasper plants himself on the bench across from me.
Our bodies shift as the back of the van weighs down, Bear not so gracefully stepping in.
The Viking man is solemn with his own game face on, assault rifles strapped to his chest and back.
Night vision goggles squeeze on top of his matted bun. “Ladies,” he drawls. But the tension in the air is so thick that no one seems to be in the spirit for his theatrics tonight. We all know the gravity of this mission, and as the seconds pass by, the weight of it seems to settle over everyone.
“We enter at the north gate,” I begin. “This isn’t our usual warehouse. The blueprints show a basement underneath the south entrance connecting to an underground tunnel.”
Nyx shifts in the passenger seat to face us. “That’s where they’re keeping them. This is no different than any other mission— stick with the plan, stay with your partners.”
I roll my shoulders, ignoring that dig. “If your earpiece cuts out longer than five minutes, fall back. The signal is touchy here. Get to Cici and get it fixed but do not, I repeat do not enter back in without a clearance from me or Nyx.”
Not even Bear salutes me. Cici expressed her concerns earlier with the signal, immediately reporting it to Ana.
We’re doomed if we can’t communicate, but I can’t dwell on that right now.
The van shakes, silence pressing in tightly as asphalt meets gravel.
Matt slows down, pulling into neutral and methodically pulls the emergency brake so the rear lights don’t shine.
This gives Cici time to hack into the building.
My vision is blurry, red and black dancing around in the space before me, the ache to get these wolves and get out versus the urge to make these men pay already affecting me.
A tap on my boot stutters me into consciousness, Jasper forming an “okay?” symbol at his thigh.
I tap his foot back and pull my hood down over my brow.
My little angel Ana sitting on my shoulder reminding me of her warnings: Don’t go rogue. Do it together.
Cici’s nails tapping against her screen are the only sound cutting the ringing in my ears as we wait.
“I’m in,” she states, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze.
I take my free hand and wiggle my fingers under my chin at her.
Even that doesn’t crack the worry in her brow.
But I can’t communicate with my friend now; she’s a member under my command at this moment and there’s no room for personal emotion.
I give her hand a firm squeeze in reminder and peer up at my lead partner, who’s silently watching the interaction. My features reveal nothing under my mask; Nyx knows I’m more than prepared. He spins back around, slipping his journal into the glove compartment.
“Ready?” I ask. Quiet voices confirm in the shadows.
“Jasper, Nina circle in east. Bear, Greer, keep in the lower northwest corner.”
“On our mark.” Nyx’s authoritative voice is deadly low.
Carefully rising from the bench to shuffle towards the back, I grip the handle, my heart beat a drum in my ears. “Jett?”
His knee gently nudges my back. “Right behind you, Florence.”
“Go.” I command.
We move out as one.
Thank the Lord, the snow is powdery. Our boots shuffle, navigating the earth beneath. Crouching low, I swiftly bounce from pine to pine, making my way towards the chain linked fence. So far, my goggles show no sign of anyone nearby.
“Slown down.” Nyx’s warning breaks into my ear.
“Keep up.” I shoot back.
The fence comes into view as I tuck behind the trunk of a pine. My Glock is steady against the bark as I peer around to the warehouse through the trees fifty yards ahead. The woods are silent except for the wind sliding through the branches.
Something cold suddenly presses to the back of my head. “Paying attention?” Nyx murmurs behind me. I tilt my head just enough that he can see past my shoulder, the muzzle of my firearm already aimed square between his eyes. A low chuckle follows. “Just checking.”
He lowers his gun first, except it isn’t a gun, it’s his gloved hands in the shape of one. I shove my Glock in my belt.
He takes a step closer, brushing my hip. “If I need to strap you to this tree, Florence, I will.”
I pull the cloth from my nose, holding a finger to my lips. “You’ll have to keep up with me to even try that.” I snap, taking a step forward and then bolt again.
At lightning speed, he strikes, reaching for my wrist, and whirls me against the bark. He squeezes with the same sincerity as Cici. “Florence.” The death in his voice is gone, replaced with a gentle plea.
My shoulders sink at my partner; I inhale a small breath as I gently pull it away.
“Okay,” I whisper. It’s all I can offer him.
Our breaths form clouds in the brisk night air as he studies my face, reading my lie.
A double note call identical to that of a live owl sounds from Bear, reverberating through the trees. I look up to Nyx. “It’s go time.”