Chapter 36 11 AM
Chapter thirty-six
Callum’s office had transformed into a war room.
Maps covered the polished surface of his desk, marked with entry points, security rotations, and escape routes.
Weapons were arranged neatly on a side table—sleek, expensive models that would never be traced back to him if things went wrong.
Three different communication devices sat before him, each connecting to a different line of communication.
One for the Veyra comms, one for his men, one for the rebellion.
He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His heart thundered against his ribs, but his hands remained perfectly still. Years of practice, of negotiating with the most dangerous people in New Found Haven, had taught him to conceal his fear beneath a veneer of calm.
His eyes flicked to the screen, showing the plaza where the Vow ceremony would take place.
Veyra officers patrolled in regular intervals, their masks gleaming in the morning sun.
Somewhere among them, blending perfectly, were Jaeger’s mercenaries—Daggermouths disguised as security, as staff, as innocent bystanders.
The perfect predators, hidden in plain sight.
They were so close to ending this. So close he could taste it. He lifted his tablet to his ear and listened for one ring until Jaeger’s voice cut through.
“Status report,” Jaeger said without any pleasantries.
“Surveillance is clear,” Callum confirmed, typing a command into his keyboard that would begin the loop he’d programmed into the Heart’s security system. “The cameras are blind to the Plaza now. Get your snipers in position.”
“Understood,” Jaeger replied, not waiting for a response as the line went quiet.
Callum swallowed, imagining the scene playing out in the plaza. Jaeger’s people would be drawing their weapons now, securing positions, preparing for the moment when Greyson and Shadera would be brought out for the ceremony. No one watching would notice anything amiss—not until it was too late.
He set his tablet down, reaching for the Veyra transmitter. He took a deep breath, clearing his throat before pressing down on the button.
“Central Command to Plaza Unit, confirm status of the Executioner.” Callum modulated his voice, adopting the flat, emotionless tone of a Veyra officer.
There was a pause, longer than there should have been.
Callum’s fingers tightened around the transmitter. Had he made a mistake? Used the wrong code phrase?
Then Mikel’s voice came through, perfectly composed. “Executioner secure. Moving to plaza in forty-five minutes with subject.”
Subject.
Shadera. A woman reduced to a word.
Guilt twisted his gut. He’d manipulated Greyson with the unshared knowledge of Brooker’s survival. Had pulled his best friend’s strings to convince him to get close to her. He knew at some point they’d need her on their side, and used Greyson as a pawn.
Some days he truly felt as if he was no better than the rest of the garbage in this city.
“Confirmed,” Callum replied. “Maintain escort protocol.”
He ended the transmission, exhaling slowly. Mikel was the linchpin—the inside man with direct access to both prisoners. If he turned on them, if he had been compromised . . .
No. He couldn’t think that way. Trust was a commodity in short supply, but they had no choice but to extend it now. Mikel had proven himself loyal to the cause, had risked everything to protect his son.
His son.
The truth still stunned Callum, though he’d had days to process it. He knew most secrets kept in this city, but this one—this one he was not prepared for. Greyson Serel, son of Mikel. Not Maximus.
He checked his watch. Thirty minutes until the first phase needed to be complete. His throat felt dry, constricted. He reached for the glass of water on his desk, careful not to disturb the maps as he took a drink.
His fingers swiped over his tablet, punching in the numbers for this third status report.
“Ghost, what’s your position?”
Jameson’s voice came through immediately, thrumming with anticipation. “In position at entry point. Teams ready for ascent.”
Callum pulled up a different screen, this one showing the old maintenance shaft that led directly from Cardinal to the Heart.
To the basement of his club. The access point should have been sealed years ago, but Callum had bribed the right officials, falsified the right reports. On paper, it didn’t exist anymore.
“Shaft is secured,” Callum confirmed, checking the feed one last time. “You’re clear to begin your ascent. Remember, when you arrive at the basement, do not leave it under any circumstances until you receive the signal.”
“Copy that.” A pause, then Jameson added, “Any word on Shade?”
The concern in his voice was unmistakable.
“She’s alive,” he said. “Moving to the plaza with Greyson. Mikel is with them.”
A tense silence followed before he answered. “Understood.”
Callum pulled the tablet from his ear. He knew what Jameson was thinking—that Mikel better have protected her, that someone would pay if she’d been harmed. The love Jameson had for Shadera was as obvious as it was hopeless. Some part of Callum pitied him for it.
Three calls down.
His fingers hesitated to dial the number. This was different. They had barely spoken since the meeting, outside of required conversation about the rebellion they hadn’t truly spoken.
He scratched at his brow, an uncomfortable feeling settling into his chest, then dialed her number.
She answered on the first ring, her voice clear and focused. “Yes?”
Just hearing her steadied something in him. Lira had always been his constant, his North Star. Five years of watching her from a distance, of loving her in silence, had taught him to recognize every nuance in her voice. She was afraid, but resolute. Ready.
“Are the drones in position?” he asked, focusing on the mission first.
“Yes,” she replied. “All media feeds are secure and ready. The primary broadcast will begin in thirty minutes, and the secondary feeds showing people arriving are already live.”
Callum nodded. The media was her domain—the official channels through which the Heart disseminated its propaganda, now reprogrammed to serve the rebellion instead. When the time came, they would broadcast the truth and no one would be able to look away.
“And Brooker?”
“He and his Veyra are at the base, they are working to secure the bombs.”
“Good,” he said. “That’s . . . good.”
A silence stretched between them, filled with all the things they hadn’t said, all the fears they hadn’t voiced.
Lira would be the most exposed of all of them when this began.
She would be standing beside her father on that platform, playing her role as the dutiful daughter one last time while the rebellion erupted around her.
“Callum?” Her voice was softer now, private.
“I’m still here.” He closed his eyes, picturing her face. “Lira, I—”
The words caught in his throat. Five years of hiding how he felt, and now, when it mattered most, he found himself hesitating again.
No. Not this time.
“I love you,” he said, the words rushing out like water breaking through a dam. “Please be safe today. Please come back to me.”
She hesitated for a breath.
“I love you too, Callie.” A pause, then, stronger, “I’ll see you tonight, when this is over.”
She ended the call before he could respond. Callum stared at the tablet in his hand, a strange mix of elation and dread coiling in his stomach.
He hadn’t lost her. They might die today.
Both truths existed simultaneously.
He set the tablet down and leaned back in his chair, surveying the screens again. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned. The rebels were in position. The surveillance was compromised. The weapons were distributed. The prisoners were being moved. The broadcasts were ready.
It was going too smoothly.