24. Novak
TWENTY-FOUR
Novak
I didn’t like Zach and Kai being in our space.
It wasn’t personal: two unknown operators introduced a hazard, and risk was something I managed, reduced, or eliminated, not invited in and given access to the same air as Caleb.
Zach was the easier of the two to catalog, disciplined and restrained, posture aligned, movements economical, the kind of man who measured before acting and didn’t waste effort, which meant he was predictable within a defined range.
Still, I didn’t like the way he leaned in when Caleb was sharing intel.
My attention kept returning to the space between them, calculating distance, timing, and the fastest way to intervene if necessary.
Kai was the opposite problem.
He didn’t respect boundaries because he didn’t recognize them as relevant, opening cupboards, helping himself, eating Caleb’s cookies without asking and without slowing, filling space with noise and motion that made it harder to track what mattered, and I didn’t trust that kind of chaos.
I watched him anyway.
I couldn’t dismiss their skills at what they did, though.
Between the four of us, we built a workable plan assembled from overlapping competencies and different operational instincts, with Zach anchoring structure, Caleb feeding live intel, Kai identifying routes and extraction angles while bemoaning that we couldn’t use a helicopter, and me reducing everything down to entry, neutralization, and exit with the least possible exposure.
We argued where it mattered.
We aligned where we had to.
By the time we were done, the plan held.
I caught Caleb before we stepped out, a brief interruption in the flow of movement that no one questioned because they were busy with their own checks and preparations.
He looked tired, still, even after the sleep, edges not fully reset, but focused, sharp where it counted, and that should have been enough, except it wasn’t, not when I knew exactly how fast this could go wrong and how little margin we had if it did.
I closed the distance without thinking about it and kissed him.
“Well, if we’re kissing,” Kai said immediately, because of course he did, stepping in with zero hesitation and grabbing Zach by the front of his shirt before he could even react, hauling him in and planting an exaggerated, open-mouthed kiss on him as if we were all here for his entertainment.
Zach went rigid for half a second, melted, but then pushed Kai with force, expression flat, unamused.
Kai pulled back with a grin, entirely unapologetic. “What?”
“Jesus Kai. Time and place.”
“Sorry, Boo,” Kai said, and stole one more kiss.
I ignored them.
My attention was still on Caleb.
I leaned in again, slower this time, the contact softer, deliberate, not for show, not for anyone else, needing one last touch before we stepped into something that would try to take him from me if I let it.
“I’m never letting you go,” I said, low enough that it stayed between us.
He held my gaze for a long moment. Then, instead of nodding, he leaned in, pressed his forehead to mine, and slid his hand along my neck—a deliberate touch, grounding us both.
“Then you don’t get to,” he said quietly.
“Because I’m not letting you go either. So, we do this together—your choice, my choice.
We’re locked in, and that’s exactly how I want it. ”
“Okay then.”
That was as close to a love declaration as I’d ever be capable of, and he was responding in kind. I’d die for this man. Kill for him.
We went in a little before midnight, timing it for the narrow window where patrols thinned and complacency set in, when guards relied on routine instead of vigilance and the rhythm of the place worked in our favor instead of against it, and as we stepped out into the dark, weapons checked, comms live, every sense tuned to the environment, I adjusted position, placing myself between Caleb and the unknown without needing to think about it.
The night wrapped around us the second we cleared the perimeter, cool air, damp earth, the faint metallic tang of distant machinery settling into the back of my throat as I recalibrated to the dark, every shadow and line of approach broken down into angles and timing.
Zach took point on outer sweep, wide arc, eyes on perimeter patterns, while Kai drifted off-axis, unpredictable but intentional, tracking elevation and potential extraction routes, and Caleb stayed where I put him, within reach, far enough that I could pivot if needed.
The compound resolved ahead of us in layers, low buildings, intermittent lighting, and the rhythm of patrols where we expected them to be. Good.
I adjusted our path by two degrees, cutting through the shadow instead of open ground, boots silent on packed dirt, and the unguarded door came into view exactly where Caleb had marked it, set back enough to fall outside the main patrol sightlines, a service entrance.
I held up a fist, the signal immediate, clean, and we stopped as one, the team compressing into stillness without question.
Then we headed toward the unknown; the only plans of the structure we had were the official government agency ones, nothing newer, reinforced walls not open to surveillance, so it wasn’t all guns blazing; it was stealth.
Caleb worked on the external cameras—substandard and easy to hack, according to him—looped in recorded surveillance to mask the live feed.
At his signal, I crossed the distance to the door in seconds, already reaching for the handle, weapon angled, body positioned to shield Caleb.
This was the point where plans stopped mattering.
This was where it became execution.
The handle gave under pressure, no resistance, no alarm, and I paused for half a beat after the quiet click, listening, mapping the space beyond before I opened the door the rest of the way.
Dark interior. Narrow corridor. Low light spill from somewhere deeper inside.
I went in first. Weapon up. Sweep left. Sweep right. Clear corners in sequence.
Caleb was behind me. Zach was, and Kai slipped in last, closing the door behind us with a soft, deliberate press that sealed the outside world away in an instant.
We were in.
The corridor stretched ahead, and I held a hand signal. Halt .
Listened.
There—faint.
Voices. Distant. Two, maybe three.
A junction ahead.
I edged to the corner, flattened to the wall, and angled enough to take a visual without exposing more than necessary.
One guard.
Stationary. Back turned. Posture slack, weapon low. No collar.
I checked back once on Caleb. We knew there were three with collars, according to Noah, and this wasn’t one of the ones we were here to save.
Zach saw it, already drawing his blade and adjusting the angle for cross-coverage.
Kai’s grin flashed in the low light as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment.
My hand came up, one smooth motion, locking over the guard’s mouth while I drove the blade in, the body going slack almost immediately as I lowered him to the floor.
I wiped the blade and saw Kai and Zach taking down guards two and three who’d rounded the corner, chatting about baseball, guns low.
Kai collected a comm from his dead guy, passed it to Caleb, before dragging the body down a dark corridor that held old chairs and desks.
We did the same with the other two and carried on.
Guards four through eight were easy enough to counter, none of them with collars, which by my count left one more uncollared guard, three collared victims, and whoever the fuck this Michael guy was.
We split at the next junction, and I hated it, but this was the plan, and I knew it was solid, but if anything happened to Caleb, I would kill Zach myself.
He and Caleb headed toward the top-level priority on control and intel and getting the master controller from Michael, while I went the other way with Kai, angling for the basement where we assumed Eden was being held, the map in my head adjusting in real time as I assessed distances, choke points, and the fastest path back to Caleb if anything broke.
I didn’t like the separation.
Kai went ahead of me without waiting, light on his feet, faster than his earlier chaos suggested, slipping into shadow, and I adjusted to his pace, letting him take point for the descent while I covered angles, weapon up, every sense tuned to what waited below.
Basements held things people didn’t want found.
We were about to find out what this one was hiding.