Chapter 20 All For One
The wind bites colder at the edge of one of the Guild’s warehouses, where an unmarked van and unmarked bikes wait, humming like living things. Black gear. Black masks. A wall of silence as we load up.
No stars above tonight. Just a moon like a blade’s edge.
I strap on my utility belt, fingers trembling only slightly as I adjust the fastenings on my gloves. Tex silently double-checks his weapons near the bikes. Jace stands near the exit, still as stone, arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he’s calculating how many of us are going to screw this up.
Noah passes me a discreet comm device, brushing my fingers briefly. “It’s encoded. I’ll be in your ear if anything goes to hell.”
“Nothing is going to hell,” Derek calls over us.
“I mean, you can give them hell.” Max laughs.
Preston rolls his eyes, tapping away on his own tablet.
Luca pulls his mask up over his face and says, “Try not to die, yeah? I’m still trying to decide if I like you.”
“Same,” I say, deadpan.
He chuckles and disappears into the van.
Max drapes an arm over my shoulder. “Definitely no dying. Your dad would throw me off a cliff if I let anything happen to you.”
I giggle and nod. “I’ll do my best.”
Max disappears behind the van.
Tex stops beside me just as I reach for the zip-up on my vest.
“You ready?” His voice is quiet. Less armor than usual.
“As I’ll ever be,” I say.
“Stick close to me.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know,” he says, not moving. “But if something goes wrong out there, I’d rather it be me.”
The words hang there between us, suspended like breath in cold air.
I give him a tight nod, heart thudding louder than it should.
From up front, Jace snaps, “Let’s go. The clock’s already ticking.”
We climb on.
No backing out now.
I wrap my arms around Max’s waist.
“Hang on.” His voice comes through my comms.
The night air rushes against my skin, whipping strands of hair loose from the tie at the base of my neck. We crouch behind a ridge of outcropped rocks overlooking the black stretch of desert road that cuts through the hills like a scar.
Below us, the convoy begins to appear — three matte-black transport trucks surrounded by two unmarked SUVs. The vehicles move fast but not recklessly. The Guild’s intel was right. This route is lightly patrolled and distant from major cities. No one is supposed to know what’s moving through here.
But we do.
“On my mark,” Jace murmurs beside me, voice crisp in my ear through the comms. “Riders first.”
“Copy,” I whisper back, fingers curling in the sleek black gloves Lucian gave me from the armory. The high-tech friction coating should help with grip when I make the jump.
We’re mounted on three slim bikes, engines muffled to near-silence, painted to vanish into the shadows. We wear black Guild suits woven with nanofiber — skintight, flexible, designed to repel minor damage and boost stealth. Noah sits in the unmarked van, ready to go.
“Initiating in three… two… one.”
The wind rips across my helmet as we speed along the canyon road. Silent shadows trailing the convoy of matte-black transport trucks. They move like beasts with metal skin—three long-bodied haulers, armored and unmarked, with a rear-guard van tailing just far enough back to shoot without question.
“Get ready to jump.” Max instructs.
I lick my lips, heart pounding as I steal a glance ahead. The others peel off, one by one. Jace vaults first, like he’s born for it—precise, effortless. Tex vaults next off Derek’s bike. Luca salutes before jumping off Preston's bike, and in that moment, the sick thrill hits my gut.
It’s now or never.
Max pulls up close. I rise up, bend my knees, and jump.
Free fall. For half a heartbeat, the world is air and speed and adrenaline.
Then my boots slam into cold steel, my fingers grab the ladder bar just in time to avoid being thrown. I haul myself up and onto the roof of the truck—just in time to see Luca locked in a brutal fight.
One of the guards has climbed up through a hatch. Dressed in matte-black armor, he slashes at Luca with a hooked blade. Sparks fly as steel clashes. Luca ducks and spins with liquid grace, his dagger flashing.
But a second man is climbing out behind him. I see the blade and where it’s aimed.
“Luca!” I shout.
He turns a second too late. I don’t think. Just run.
My boots pound across the truck roof as I launch myself toward the second guard, tackling him at full speed. We go down hard, rolling toward the edge. His elbow cracks into my ribs, but I shove back, desperate. My hand finds his throat and I drive my elbow into it again. He sputters, clawing at me.
We hit the edge—my boot slipping on the smooth metal. He twists, trying to take me with him. I wind and shove, hard. He falls.
His screams are devoured by the wind.
I scramble away from the ledge, my chest heaving, blood in my mouth. The truck still roars beneath me, moving like a monster on rails. When I look up, Luca is staring at me—one hand clutched over his shoulder where blood seeps through his fingers.
I stumble over. “Are you okay?”
His face is unreadable for a moment—eyes wide, lips parted like he doesn’t know what to say. Then he gives a crooked, blood-soaked smile.
“You—you tackled a guy off a moving truck,” he says.
“Yeah. You’re welcome.”
“Didn’t think you liked me that much.”
“I don’t.”
Derek steps up and applies a quick pressure bandage on Luca’s shoulder, then we drop down the open hatch into the truck’s interior.
“Good stuff.” Preston places a hand on my shoulder.
The world narrows to cold walls and the sound of Luca’s labored breathing.
He teeters, and I catch his arm before he can fall.
“Don’t you dare pass out on me.”
“I’ll try to stay conscious for your sake, sweetheart,” he rasps.
Smartass. Even while bleeding.
Luca’s still alive. Still here. And I made sure of that.
No way am I letting this vampire be the reason I fail.
The inside of the transport truck is a stripped-down vault—steel walls lined with welded racks, crates strapped down tight with military-grade netting. The stolen prototype weapons are here. I can feel it.
But we don’t have time to celebrate. My comm crackles.
“Rear guard van is on the move,” Noah’s voice comes through, sharp and clipped. “ETA ninety seconds.”
“Copy,” I whisper, already moving.
Luca sways, grabbing one of the crates for balance. Blood still drips down his arm but he motions toward the vault door leading to the cab. “You go. I’ll cover the gear.”
I don’t argue.
I sprint down the aisle, scanning crates as I go. Looking for matching model numbers as they’re shown in my HUD.
“Thirty seconds,” Noah calls. “I’ve locked the driver’s route, but they’ll override it soon.”
“Buy us more time,” Jace snaps.
The truck jolts. I crash into a crate as something explodes nearby.
They’re trying to stop us.
The back doors shudder, then there’s a horrible screeching sound as they are ripped open—not by force, but by tech. Someone has hacked the electronic seal.
Two men in black-clad armor climb in, guns raised.
My body moves before my brain can catch up. I grab a crowbar off the rack and hurl it, nailing one in the chest. He staggers back. The other fires.
The blast sears past me, slamming into the wall. I duck, roll, and kick a crate toward him—it knocks his legs out, just enough for me to lunge. My knife finds the space between his armor plates. He screams, and I yank it out.
“On your right!” Max yells.
Another attacker, this one from the upper vent. Seriously? I whirl just in time to block a strike from his shock baton. It jolts up my arms and I bite my tongue. Holding in a scream.
He comes again. This time, I duck, catch his wrist, and twist hard. The baton drops. I headbutt him—helmet to visor—and he collapses with a grunt.
I stand over him, panting.
The truck skids again. The back doors are still wide open, the road a blur beneath them.
Behind us, Noah’s van hugs our tail, just far enough for Jace, Tex, and Preston to cling to the edge, faces grim, arms braced on the reinforced frame.
“Throw it!” Jace barks, his voice ripping through the wind.
Luca yanks open the nearest crate, sweat dripping into his eyes. “Got it.”
I grab the first wrapped prototype, fingers slipping slightly from the blood still dripping down my wrist, and heave it across the open gap. The wind catches it—
Tex lunges and nabs it with both hands, nearly losing his balance.
“Again!” Jace orders.
Luca pulls another out, grunting, his wound clearly slowing him. “This one’s heavier—”
“I got it,” I say, shoving him aside gently. I brace my foot, wind up like a pitcher, and launch the case toward Jace. He catches it one-handed, his strength absurd, and shoves it behind him into the van’s holding bay.
The truck jostles again.
We almost lose footing.
“Speed bump in ten—hang tight or you’re roadkill,” Noah calls out.
Luca wobbles as the truck jolts, and I grab his hoodie just in time.
“You okay?”
He nods, teeth gritted. “Last crate.”
We drag it together, set it just inside the open threshold. The wind howls, the canyon flashing by in a blur of jagged rock and pine.
Jace meets my eyes.
“Together?” I call.
He nods once.
Luca and I heave, and Tex catches it, both feet planted wide as he slides it into the van. “That’s all of them!”
“Jump!” Jace yells.
My heart pounds in my throat. The van looks so much farther than it did a second ago.
Luca turns to me, breathing hard. “You ready?”
“No,” I say honestly, then take off running anyway.
We jump—leaping from steel to steel, weightless in freefall. My knees slam down hard on the van, and I skid, fingertips clawing for purchase.
Jace’s hand snags my arm. “Got you.”
He hauls me up just as Tex grabs Luca. The adrenaline doesn’t drain out of me—it rips away, like someone’s snapped a cord and left me raw and frayed.
Luca collapses against the van’s wall, breath hitching as he pulls off his helmet.
“Luca?” I pull off my helmet and shift toward him, reaching for his shoulder.