Chapter 30
Jericho
Two minutes until the guard shift change. I watch the facility through binoculars. Six guards visible. More inside. The shift supervisor is near the main entrance, clipboard in hand, preparing for rotation.
In eight minutes, security will be at its weakest point. Eight minutes to get inside, reach the cells, extract the prisoners.
Her pack isn’t here.
I scan the approaches again. Empty road. No sign of vehicles. No wolf energy signatures approaching.
They’re not coming.
“One minute,” I say quietly.
Nadia is silent beside me. Tension pours off her in waves. Her pack should be here. Should have arrived fifteen minutes ago.
Something went wrong.
“Jericho.” Her voice is tight. “We can’t do this alone.”
“I know.”
“Two of us against that facility. Against Vex’s security. We’ll die.”
“Maybe.”
I lower the binoculars. Look at the facility. Think about the files I memorized. Kaylin, Devon, the others… How many procedures have they endured? How close to death are they now?
Twenty-three captives in total, according to intelligence. How many are in critical condition? How many are in agony right now while I sit here calculating odds? How many can I realistically get out of there?
My dragon is snarling. Not about the mission. About Nadia. About bringing her into danger. About the very real possibility that she’ll die in that facility.
Keep her safe. Mate. Protect.
I can’t protect her and complete the mission. If I go in, she’ll follow. If I tell her to stay back, she’ll refuse.
“Thirty seconds,” I say.
“Jericho—”
“I’m going in.” I meet her eyes. “With or without your pack. Those people don’t have time to wait.”
“You’ll die.”
“Maybe. But I’ll get some of them out first.”
She’s quiet for three seconds. Then: “You know I’m not letting you go alone.”
“I know.”
“We’ll probably both die.”
“Yes.”
“Is that okay with you?” Her voice is sharp. Angry. Afraid.
I think about acceptable losses. About decisions that prioritize mission success over individual survival. About a career of calculating odds and determining what sacrifices are justified.
This is different.
This isn’t about Syndicate objectives or dragon supremacy or following orders from leadership I no longer trust. This is about twenty-three people who are suffering. About at least one young wolf who might not survive the day. About choosing to do something right, even if the cost is everything.
“If we save lives?” I say quietly. “What do you think?”
She’s silent for a moment, then, “Yes. That’s acceptable.”
Our eyes stay locked, understanding passing between us.
“So,” she exhales the word, “once they’re out, what do we do with them? Our plan depended on us having more resources.”
My mind races. I glance around us. “We lead them into the forest. Find the ones strong enough to fight back, and get the others to the valley beyond the trees. At least they’ll have a chance of getting out of here.”
It’s a long shot. The longest. But what choice do we have?
“And if they don’t?” she asks.
“They’re valuable to the Syndicate, Nadia. I suspect Vex will go a long way to keep his guinea pigs alive. He’ll bring them back. They’ll be no worse off than they were before.”
She pinches her lips together. “I think most of them would rather die out here.”
I nod. “But at least we’ll have given them the choice.”
“You might be right.” She sighs.
We turn our attention back to the facility. The shift change begins below. Guards moving. Supervisor coordinating. The eight-minute window opening.
“Let’s move,” I say.
We descend quickly, staying hidden in the tree line until we’re close. Then, without a backward glance, I take a breath and step out into the open. Walk directly toward the main gate. Just as planned.
Nadia hangs behind, hidden in the trees. My beast rails at leaving her, but we both know this is right.
Dragon energy floods my system. Not shifting. Just enough to project authority. Command presence.
The gate guard sees me approaching. Raises his weapon. “Stop. Identify yourself.”
“Commander Jericho Allon.” I keep walking. Voice hard with command. “Syndicate special operations. Here for facility inspection.”
“I wasn’t notified—”
“You weren’t cleared for notification. Open the gate.”
He hesitates. Checks his tablet. I know he won’t find authorization. But the confusion during shift change, my rank, the confidence in my voice—it might buy seconds.
“Sir, I need to verify with—”
“You need to open this gate before I report your obstruction to Ivory League command. I don’t have time for security theater.”
Behind me, in the trees, Nadia is moving into position. Ready to create the diversion I’ll need later. Ready to extract prisoners once I get them out.
My dragon tracks her movement, even though I can’t see her. Awareness of her location. Her heartbeat. Something pulling tight between us. Not fully formed but strengthening with each passing moment.
Mate. Know where she is. Always.
I feel something snapping into place. Fragile but there. A humming connection.
The guard looks at his tablet again. At me. Fear of reprisal overriding protocol.
The gate opens.
I walk through without looking back. But I feel her. Safe. Moving into position. The knowledge settles something in my chest.
Inside the compound, everything is organized chaos. Shift change in progress. Guards moving between posts. Attention divided. Just what we need.
I head straight for the main building, project authority, my dragon presence making people move aside. The interior is sterile. White walls. Fluorescent lighting. It smells like a hospital. Disinfectant mingling with blood and fear.
I know the layout from the files. Cells are two levels up.
I take the stairs. Pass two guards who nod respectfully. Don’t question my presence.
Level one: laboratories. Through the windows, I see equipment. Examination tables. Medical instruments designed for torture disguised as research.
Level two: the cells.
The door requires biometric access. I rip it open with dragon strength. Metal screaming. Alarms should trigger, but the shift change has security systems cycling. Thirty seconds before someone notices.
I step into the corridor.
Blood. Waste. Infection. The smell of suffering and death.
Then I see them. The cells line both sides of the corridor. Glass-fronted. Each one holding a prisoner. Some are conscious. Many aren’t. All of them are in terrible condition.
There’s a male shifter in the first cell. Early twenties. Covered in surgical scars. IV lines running into both arms. Unconscious. Breathing shallow.
Next cell: female hybrid. Can’t tell what species. Her body is wrong. Bones at odd angles. Skin mottled with discoloration. Eyes open but unseeing.
Third cell: another wolf hybrid. Teenager. Thin to the point of starvation. Awake. Watching me with eyes that hold no hope.
I move down the corridor. Check each cell. Look for Kaylin Foster specifically.
Fourth cell. Fifth. Sixth.
Hybrids in various states of suffering. Some showing signs of recent surgery. Others with obvious genetic manipulation—extra limbs, scaled skin, features that don’t belong.
Seventh cell: empty. Blood on the floor. Recent.
Eighth cell: male bear shifter. Massive even in his diminished state. Covered in burns. Breathing labored.
I reach the end of the corridor. Sixteen cells total. Fifteen occupied.
No Kaylin Foster.
Where is she?
There must be more cells deeper in the facility.
Alarms start blaring. My forced entry finally registered.
No time to search. I need to get these people out now. Get them to safety. To Nadia. She’ll extract them while I find Kaylin.
The connection between us pulses. What I’m beginning to recognize as the mate bond we’ve been dancing around, alive and thrumming.
She’s outside. Waiting. Ready.
Trust our mate. She’ll get them out.
I go to the first cell. Shatter the glass with a scaled fist. The male wolf inside doesn’t react.
I lift him carefully. He weighs almost nothing. I carry him to the corridor.
Next cell. Female hybrid. Same process. Glass shattering. Lifting her carefully despite the wrongness of her body.
The teenager in the third cell backs away when I break the glass. Terrified.
“I’m getting you out,” I say, keeping my voice calm. “Can you walk?”
He stares at me. Doesn’t believe.
“Can you walk?” Firmer.
He nods slowly.
“Then follow me. We’re leaving.”
I move through the cells systematically. Breaking glass. Extracting prisoners. Some can walk on their own. Many can’t. I carry them two at a time. Set them in the corridor.
Fifteen prisoners. Some conscious. Some not. All of them broken.
But not Kaylin.
I check the doors at the end of the corridor. Storage. Medical supply. Empty office. No additional cells. Below, I hear boots. Guards responding to alarms. Shouting. Orders being issued.
I need to move these people now. Get them to Nadia. Then come back for Kaylin and whoever else is still in here.
“Anyone who can walk,” I call out. “Help those who can’t. We’re moving. Now.”
The teenager responds, helping another captive to her feet. Two others manage to stand. The bear lifts a female, whose head lolls against his massive shoulder as he reaches down for a semi-conscious witch hybrid.
I grab the unconscious wolf. Hoist him over my shoulder. Take the female hybrid in my arms.
“Follow me,” I say. “Stay close.”
We move toward the stairs. Slow. The mobile prisoners help those who can barely move. I’m carrying two. It’s not enough, but it’s what I can manage.
We reach the stairs. Start down them. The prisoners move painfully slowly, but they’re moving.
Below, I hear more guards. Security teams converging.
We’re not going to make it to the main exit.
Outside, an explosion rocks the building. Loud. The lights flicker.
Nadia. Creating her diversion. Through the bond, I feel her. Alive. Focused. Drawing attention away from my position.
She’s safe. Focus on the mission. Get them out.