Chapter 15 #3
Adtovar's voice cut through the tension like a blade through silk. "We will bring down more warriors from the Historia," he offered. "Enough to ensure your safety, Lady President, and make certain we do not fail in Hewes's capture."
I nodded, my mind already racing ahead to the thousand details that would need to fall perfectly into place. My mouth felt dry as I spoke. "We'll need access to Area 51. It's remote, secure, and he controls everything that happens there now."
I watched as Cullen's expression shifted, something rising to the surface like a submarine breaching dark water.
"I'm still an Admiral, even if I have been on leave.
I can get us in." He paused, and I followed his gaze as it swept deliberately over the assembled aliens, assessing them with the practiced eye of a man who'd led thousands into combat.
"As long as all of you can look like military—Navy to be specific. "
"Not a problem," Xytol said, his tone as smooth as aged whiskey. He reached up with those impossibly long fingers and touched a small device pinned to his shoulder, and the holographic disguise covering him flickered like a candle flame in the wind.
My breath caught in my throat. Where a human man had sat just moments before, there was now a tall, pale green alien with black dreadlocks that cascaded past his shoulders.
His features were sharp and otherworldly, all elegant angles that no human face could achieve, and his eyes glowed a luminous lavender that seemed to pulse with their own inner light.
Another touch of his cuddwisg, and I blinked. A sailor sat before us, decked out in dress whites so perfect they could have come straight from a recruiting poster. Every detail was flawless, from the ribbons arranged in precise rows on his chest to the exact angle of the cap perched on his head.
"Will this suffice, Admiral?" Xytol asked. Even his voice had transformed, now carrying the clipped, no-nonsense cadence of a military man.
Cullen snorted, and a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. "That's a handy little thing you've got there."
"So, we've got a plan," I said, though my voice sounded steadier than I felt. This was more nerve-wracking than the time I'd authorized a SEAL team to snatch a drug lord from his compound in the dead of night.
"I will contact Hewes—the president—today." The Prime's lips twisted around the title as though it tasted poisonous. I knew exactly how she felt.
"I'll make some calls," Cullen said, steepling his fingers beneath his chin.
His dark brown eyes found mine, holding my gaze.
"I'm still in contact with the Joint Chiefs.
It won't be a stretch to let them know I'm informed about the attempt on Ellie's life and insist on being part of the security.
" His gaze shifted to Adtovar. "I'll need at least eight of you for a believable personal security detail. A dozen would be ideal."
"You will have it," Adtovar promised, his words carrying the weight of an oath.
The Prime's attention shifted to Xytol, her expression hardening. "Xytol, I want you to infiltrate the US defense and intelligence systems."
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water. "You can do that?" I blurted before I could stop myself. The Prime's golden eyes narrowed on me, and I immediately raised my hand in surrender, heat creeping up my neck. "Never mind. I don't think I want to know."
Her gaze held mine for a long moment, and in that silent exchange, I understood everything she wasn't saying.
The Alliance could hack into every Earth system, every firewall, every encryption, every defense we thought impenetrable.
The knowledge should have terrified me, should have sent every instinct screaming.
Instead, somehow, it made me feel safer. Because they were on our side.
"Xytol, as I said," the Prime continued, her voice taking on the unmistakable edge of command, "I want you in US military and intelligence systems. Keep Hewes's AI integration from happening."
"Yes, Lady Prime, immediately," Xytol responded, looking like a kid who'd received the best Christmas present ever.
Under the table, I reached for Rickon's hand, my fingers finding his. His palm was warm against mine, calloused and strong, and when his fingers closed around my own, I felt something settle in my chest—not the absence of fear, but something steadier. Something that made the fear manageable.
I knew what we were walking into. I knew that Declan had already proven he was willing to kill me, that he had resources and technology we were only beginning to understand, that everything could go sideways in a thousand different ways.
But sitting there with Rickon's hand wrapped around mine, his thumb tracing small circles against my skin in a gesture so intimate it made my breath catch, I felt something I hadn't felt since this nightmare began.
Hope.
Not the blind, naive kind that ignores reality. But the kind that acknowledges the darkness and chooses to believe in the light anyway. The kind that says even when the odds are impossible, even when the enemy holds all the cards, you fight anyway. Because some things are worth fighting for.