OLIVIA
It was official. Madoc wasn’t human.
At least, not completely. The way he moved was unnatural, like a jungle predator stalking through the dense rainforest, marking his territory. He even tapped on the trunks of trees we passed like he was spreading his scent. It would’ve made me laugh had it not totally freaked me out.
Thankfully, he remained intent on ignoring me.
I bumbled behind him, trying to mimic his grace and failing.
I was too awkward in my too-big tactical vest, and my backpack slapped against my spine with every clunky step.
Twice I lost sight of him, and just when I was convinced he’d ditched me for good, he’d reappear like a jump scare. My favorite.
Eventually, the weirdo found what he was looking for.
He came to an abrupt stop and looked up and around us with sharp eyes.
Without so much as a nod in my direction, he climbed the nearest tree, swinging up with monkey-like efficiency.
I gaped up at him from where I stood, helpless and exposed at the roots.
And then he was just gone, disappeared above the canopy. As soon as my brain registered it, I became acutely aware of the rainforest and all its hidden nasties—the humming insects, the crack of twigs, the things moving in the dark.
“Hey!” I hissed.
Nothing.
I knew he heard me, the jackass.
Cursing under my breath, I gripped the nearest branch and hefted myself over it. I’d never been so thankful for my upper body strength. I actually enjoyed the strain, my muscles engaging after days without a proper workout.
The splinters were a fun little challenge.
I persisted, gritting my teeth as I climbed up, and up, hoisting myself over branches, breaking through the first layer of canopy. I was sweating oh-so-attractively, the air hotter and stickier the higher I went. In my head, I cheered: lift, hold, pose. You got this. Gooooooo—
The fall was inevitable. I’d just gotten my hand on the branch above me when the one beneath my feet cracked loudly. There was a moment where I swayed, teetering on the edge of oblivion—not like this, not like this, not like this—when a hand shot down from above and gripped my wrist.
“Move,” Madoc snapped.
I hugged the trunk as tight as possible and used the momentum of Madoc’s grip to swing to the next branch.
To my intense surprise, he didn’t release me until we were settled at the same level.
Madoc was straddling his branch easily, looking perfectly content, like I’d interrupted some private meditation.
I was still catching my breath when he let me go and reached for his pack. “Idiot.”
“Screw…you.”
“I’d have to get in line.” I could hear his smirk, even though I couldn’t see it through the fireworks exploding behind my eyes.
Madoc removed a pair of night vision goggles from his pack. I watched him slot them over his forehead before I did the same. Instantly, my vision flashed white, then settled on neon green, the shapes distorted and alien.
“Trippy.”
When I looked at Madoc, he was looking back at me, his mouth quirked beneath his own goggles.
“Something to add?” I demanded.
“Rich girl does cosplay.”
I crossed my arms, then regretted it when I started to slide. “Don’t sound so shocked. I happen to dress up every year.” Mainly for Halloween and themed sorority parties, but Madoc didn’t need to know that.
Besides, his condescending laugh said enough.
I ignored the blush on my cheeks as I twisted the lens, trying to get better acquainted with my surroundings.
Instead, I caught myself watching Madoc as he shifted into a crouch with his back to me, facing the horizon.
My eyes dipped low against my will—he was ridiculously agile, his legs tensed and strong, his back rippling with muscle.
“Basement set.” Ryle’s voice in my ear made me jump.
They’d been oddly quiet in their tasks, focused and intense.
Now and then, I’d hear the odd chuckle, gasp, or muttered curse, and it comforted me in a way that I didn’t want to explore too deeply.
Like I hadn’t known just how lonely my head was until it was full of them.
The ocean was a dark green lip on the horizon, broken by white streaks of waves. I turned carefully, finding the mansion easily in the distance, the bright pricks of light that almost hurt to look at.
I settled myself better on the branch, deliberately not looking down. I told myself it was only because Madoc happened to be in front of me, not that I was staring at him intently, that I noticed him tensing. I followed his eyeline and saw it—the flare of a boat approaching the shore.
“Five minutes,” Nate warned in my ear.
Madoc’s head snapped over at me. “Eyes up.”
“What? Why?”
“They could have a bird.” The unspoken idiot was heard, loud and clear. Gritting my teeth, I looked up, scouring the neon green sky.
“Two minutes,” Nate said urgently.
Zola’s voice followed sharply: “We’ve finished with the fuse box. Going dark in three…two…one.”
Behind us, the mansion blinked out.
There was a moment of profound silence, like right before a storm.
Then…
“Sparrow?” Jax’s voice was both a blessing and a curse.
Madoc, typically, bit back. “What?”
“What was the code for the safe?”
Madoc remained silent, focused intently on the approaching vessel, until I thought he was going to ignore Jax entirely. Then he murmured: “six, one, seven, nine, two, six.”
Jax inhaled sharply. Madoc’s shoulders tightened at the sound, his head dipping low.
“Why?” Madoc asked carefully.
“Just checking,” Jax replied quickly—too quickly. Judging by Madoc’s continued tension, he knew it, too. “It might come in handy later. Princess?”
I jolted, my thighs automatically clenching around the branch so I didn’t topple off like an idiot. “Yeah?”
“I don’t hear any cheering.”
“Right, sorry. Um, all good here, I think. The yacht is approaching. It’s about…fifty feet in size. Actually, from here it looks like a Princess yacht.”
“A what?”
“It’s a brand—never mind. Not important. I see a table on the top deck and, I think, someone is sitting at it.”
“Two someones,” Madoc corrected.
I glared at his back. “No signs of choppers or drones or UFOs.”
“Good.” Jax’s voice warmed. “Don’t want you getting beamed up yet.”
I’d let you probe me, I added in my head, my cheeks burning beneath the goggles. Madoc shifted, adjusting his position, and I craned my neck up, feeling caught off guard. For all I knew, Madoc could read minds.
“The yacht has docked,” I said, my voice becoming scratchy with nerves. I twisted the lens, zooming in. The first face I saw belonged to a thin, weedy man who started directing from the stern. He was armed, his gun holstered across his back. “I see, um, lots of men.”
“How many?” Jax pressed. “Try to be specific, Princess. You’re our eyes.”
“Four—no, five.”
“Eight and counting,” Madoc cut in. “Armed thugs. No sign of the girls yet.”
The silence pressed in my ears. Considering. Planning.
A few seconds later, Jax urged, “Keep talking.”
Between Madoc and me, we relayed the scene unfolding—the numerous men who spilled out from the yacht cabin, sweeping the beach with militant precision.
Once the search was clear, the girls emerged, climbing up from the belly of the yacht and onto the dock, solemn and quiet.
Prisoners marching to the gallows. The swing of flashlights made me clench and duck, but Madoc remained unflappable, part of the landscape.
I stared at the girls, committing them to my memory, searching for a familiar face.
A set of shoulders, honey-blond hair, grey eyes.
“They’re heading up,” Madoc broke in with a murmur. “The party has split. First wave is six men and fourteen girls. They are taking the direct path to the mansion.”
It was obviously a familiar path; the girls were herded like cattle around the twisty bends and obstacles by steady flashlights. Their route would bring them directly beneath us. Madoc adjusted easily, never taking his eyes off them. He settled his gun quietly across his lap.
“How many stayed?” Jax asked softly, whispering so we didn’t startle.
I looked back toward the shore. “Six men guarding the yacht. Two are still sweeping the beach.”
“Okay,” Jax said, sounding settled, ready. “You did good,” he added a moment later, the praise washing over me like a warm hug. “Now don’t fuck it up. Listen to Sparrow.”
“You don’t have to keep telling me,” I mumbled, adjusting my grip. There was a pointed huff that came from too many directions, and I bristled at their amusement. Assholes. I could obey when I needed to, even from a giant prick like Madoc.
Any trace of amusement evaporated as the footsteps approached, voices low and closing in.
The very air grew heavier, blanketed in dread.
I swallowed thickly and looked down, tracking the girls as they shuffled dazedly around the trees.
Their features were hard to distinguish—their heights and ages varied, but they all had one thing in common: hopelessness.
It was the slump in their too-thin shoulders, the drag of their feet, the way their clothes hung off their frames like a uniform.
They didn’t speak, didn’t acknowledge each other.
When one of them stumbled, clearly drugged to her eyeballs, a man grabbed her roughly and corrected her.
My fingers tightened on my goggles. In front of me, Madoc reached for his gun, not to fire, just a reminder.
It was a foolish thing to hold onto the desperate hope that I’d see Molly among them. I knew I wouldn’t, and the brief flare of hope in my chest left me breathless.
I turned away, unable to stomach it. That was a mistake. My backpack shifted, and the branch beneath me creaked ominously.
All at once, the footsteps stopped.
Madoc’s hand snapped up, closed in a fist. Wait. I didn’t move, didn’t dare blink, didn’t breathe. The voices below traveled with the wind, foreign and sharp.
“What’s happening?” Jax demanded in our ears.
Neither Madoc nor I reacted. Slowly, Madoc lowered his fist, settling it on his gun. Then a flashlight beamed across the trees around us, searching. I almost cried out, but clamped down at the last second, biting hard on my tongue.
They were directly below us. If they just looked directly up, if they moved their lights ever so slightly to the left, into the canopy that shielded us…
“Vamos!” The voice cracked like a whip through the night, impatient. The lights flickered, dropping away, and the morose shuffling resumed. When they were no longer directly beneath us, Madoc loosened his grip on his gun.
“We’re clear,” he said, no hint of strain in his voice. “Hostiles approaching. East side. ETA Ten minutes.”
“Roger,” Jax said. In a quieter voice, he added: “Sparrow, be careful.”
Madoc gave him no indication that he’d heard him. But I was confused by the sentiment, the warning laced with concern. Madoc shifted once more, this time angling toward the ground, as if preparing to drop down at any moment.
“What happens now?” I asked him, half-expecting he wouldn’t respond.
Madoc lifted his night vision goggles and settled them on his forehead, his eyes black and unreadable beneath them. Following his lead, I did the same, squinting to adjust to the darkness.
“I’m going to take the beach,” Madoc said, like it was simple.
Obvious. He relayed his instructions with the same cutting dryness that he applied to everything.
“You’ll be my eyes.” Madoc leaned toward me, making my breath hitch.
“You talk to me,” he whispered. “Only me. No one else. Don’t let the others distract you, even when it gets loud. ”
I nodded gravely. “Got it.”
He stared at me for a long moment, looking for weakness, for cracks in my resolve. He wouldn’t find any. I schooled my expression carefully, ignoring the sweat dripping down my face and stinging my salt-cracked lips.
Finally, he nodded, apparently satisfied. “Follow me,” he said, shouldering his gun. “Lose me again and I won’t come back for you.”
Nodding determinedly, I followed his careful movements as we descended from the tree to find a new post closer to the beach. My legs ached when we returned to the ground, rubbery from overuse. It made me clumsier than I liked, but I refused to let it hinder me.
Behind us, the mansion waited, dark and breathless, like the open jaws of a predator. Time dragged and rushed together, so by the time I climbed the next tree, right on the lip of the shoreline, the mansion had been breached.
And the chaos began.