Chapter 42
Decker
The pull moved all night. South. Then east and south again. I stood on the gravel and felt her get driven away from me one road at a time.
An hour past first light, it stops moving. It doesn’t let go. It locks in—one fixed point—and stays there. She’s stopped. Somewhere out there, a building has her.
It still pulls. That means she’s alive. I’ve been telling myself that since the dark, every few minutes, because it’s the only thing keeping me on my feet.
I try to fit it to what I know. Torbjorn told me what an open bond does to the animal. He undersold it, or I’m past whatever he meant. The fight broke something open. Then they took her to people who plan to hurt her. That should cover what’s happening inside me.
It doesn’t. There’s something slamming my ribs that none of it explains, and around dawn I quit trying. The one thing I know how to do is aim it.
Jericho finds me on the east side of the yard.
“Crowe sent word.” No greeting. He’s got his phone out, a map on the screen.
“Faine’s watchers had the whole river region wired; they’ve been sitting on those roads for months, waiting for exactly this kind of movement.
The car Grace got into was in their sights the second it rolled.
They traced it down the river road to a fenced site past the warehouse row.
” He looks up. “It turned in. It never came out.”
Everything in me that’s been throwing itself around all night goes still. That’s what we couldn’t do on our own, all these months hunting her sister blind. She climbed into their car, and their car led us straight to their door.
“How old?”
“Hours. Spotters are still on it.” He watches me take it in. “Viktor’s up. Vanya called in before Crowe did.”
Inside, Viktor has the map table lit and a mug he isn’t drinking from. He doesn’t waste breath telling me I look like hell.
“Jericho’s caught you up?”
I nod.
“Vanya’s network puts the sister’s trail in the same region.
” He taps a spot on the map. “Two searches, months apart, and they both land on one fence.” He lays a finger on the bend in the river.
“East bank, past the warehouses. If the trade runs through that site, both Sangrey sisters are behind that wire.”
My hands close on the edge of the table. I make them open.
Jericho takes the marker and builds it fast. “Three teams. Two on the ground, one in the air, holding off-site in case this goes loud.” He circles positions.
Viktor nods. “What kind of structure?”
“That’s what I’ve been working on.” Nadia comes in with her laptop, already talking.
“Basic building, some kind of low-level factory. Loading doors face the road. The river side is blind past the pole lights. We come up the gravel bank, cut in low, and we’re inside their lot before the gate has a reason to look up. ”
“What’s on site?” Jericho asks her.
“A gate man. Security…professionals, but not soldiers. It’s a working building—they’re running a business in there, not braced for a fight.”
Jericho caps the marker. “Two teams on the ground. South on the doors, river side on the fence. Air support stays back until we call it.” He checks the distance on the map. “It’s a few hours out. We leave late afternoon, stage short of the warehouse row, and breach once it’s full dark.”
Late afternoon. Hours of daylight first.
I’m snarling before I know it’s coming. Low, long, not a man’s sound. It rolls off the block walls, and nobody in the room moves.
Jericho’s marker stops an inch above the map. Last time he caught me slipping, he said it straight to my face. This time he puts his eyes back on the site plan and says nothing.
Nadia’s watching my hands. The tech nearest me eases his chair back, quiet about it, the way you move away from something that’s about to explode.
My claws are out. I pull them back.
“That’s a lot of hours.” My voice doesn’t sound right. “She’s… If they move her before we— We could—” I stop. Shut my mouth. Press my knuckles into the table until the wood creaks.
“Go in daylight, and we lose the river side,” Jericho says, steady, still on the map. “And whoever’s in that building gets moved while we’re pinned at the gate. Full dark keeps them where they are.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. Knowing it does nothing for whatever’s snarling under my ribs.
Viktor sets the mug down and looks at me. “You’re not on the entry team.”
“What?” I’m standing. The chair’s on its back behind me, and I don’t remember it going over. The sound comes again, lower, from somewhere I can’t reach, and Jericho’s hand comes off the map. For one long breath, the room waits to see what I do.
I get it back. One breath at a time, fingers last. Sweat runs cold under my shirt. Nobody’s moved.
“Fence.” My voice comes out scraped. “Put me on the fence line with the river team. I hold for Jericho’s count, and I’m first through the wire when he calls it. That much I can do.”
“Say the middle part again,” Viktor says.
“I hold for the count.”
I mean it while I’m saying it.
Viktor looks at me a long time.
“The fence,” he says finally. “Where Jericho can see you.” He doesn’t say the rest. He doesn’t have to.
“I won’t move until I get the word.”
“Good.” He turns to Jericho. “Lock the logistics. I’ll prep the others.”
Jericho and Nadia build out the rest, and we break. It’s not enough. It’s what I’ve got.
I get through the hours handling gear that doesn’t need handling and staying out of rooms with people in them. The pull doesn’t ease. It builds till afternoon, steady and tireless, and by the time we’re ready to leave, I can’t sit anymore.
“You good?” asks Jericho as we clamber into the back of a van.
“Yeah,” I lie, then sit on a bench and drum my fingers on the seat rest until Nadia tells me to quit it.
We roll for hours, following the path that leads into the darkness that will allow us to reach her.
“Up ahead,” says Nadia, glancing down at a map on a tablet.
The vans turn off at the warehouse row, then the gravel bank on foot, the river on our right, cold coming off the water.
Nobody talks. The bank bends, and there it is, exactly what Crowe’s watchers called in: an ordinary tan building behind chain-link, the whole place sitting flat and lit under its own pole lights.
Every step closer, the burning under my skin gets worse.
Flat on the gravel outside the reach of the lights, the pull isn’t in my chest anymore.
It’s in my teeth. My mouth keeps filling, and I keep swallowing.
Heat rolls up my spine in slow waves. My hearing’s started honing in on the night sounds—the river, no; a door closing deep inside that building, yes. Yes.
She’s in there. I’m sure of it.
Now. Go now!
Nadia settles beside me with the bolt cutters and looks at me once. Whatever she sees, she moves the cutters to her far side.
“All teams set.” Jericho, quiet in my ear. “Hold. Breach on my count. Count starts when south is on the doors. Two minutes.”
Two minutes. I’ve held longer positions in worse cold on less sleep. I tell myself that.
Then the wind swings off the lot and into my face.
Grace.
Hours old. Faint over gravel and wire. But real. She walked this ground, car to door, on her own feet.
The pull hits so hard the building is all I can see. My hands are full of chain-link, and I don’t remember reaching for it. Jericho’s voice is still going in my ear—count, south team, hold—and the words are turning into sound that means nothing.
The change comes without warning, and the bear stands up. There’s no resistance to it. He takes my body the way he takes anything he wants, all at once and without asking, and my last thought goes out.
Nadia’s curse is drowned out by the roar ripping through me.
The chain-link tears out of the ground before me.