17. Dante
Dante
“I don’t like waiting,” I mutter, tossing the lighter between my fingers. The flame catches for a split second before I snap it shut again.
Lucien leans back in the chair across from me, arms folded, jaw ticking. “If we go in too early, we lose leverage. And if we lose leverage—”
“We lose his prisoners.” I finish for him.
He nods.
I stand and walk to the map we’ve been updating in red ink. Circles. Tunnels. Watch points. The whole fucking Orchard blueprint. Every exit Damien’s ever used. Every blind spot Reese missed.
The song “Something in the Way” by Nirvana plays around the room.
“They’ve been quiet for too long,” I say. “Not a single new shipment. No transports. That either means they’re keeping them longer… or they’re planning something bigger.”
Lucien runs a hand through his hair. “They’ve been conditioning them. You know that. He waits until his captives look clean, pretty, and desperate.”
“Fucking monsters,” I snap.
Th e air in the room thickens.
Lucien stands. “We give it three more days. If they don’t move by Friday, we go in.”
I pace. “And if Damien catches wind?”
“Then we improvise.” His voice is cold steel. “You and I have done worse with less.”
He’s right. But this isn’t just about strategy anymore. This is personal. Destiny. Harmony. The others. Damien’s starting to tighten the noose. And Reese? I don’t trust that bastard. Something about him feels… split.
I stare at the camera footage again. The trucks enter and leave. No one enters except for Damien, Reese, and, on occasion, Harmony.
Lucien—he hasn’t been sleeping. He hasn’t been talking much either.
I feel it in my gut.
Something is going to snap.
And when it does, we’re going in. I don’t care how much blood it takes.