38. CHAPTER 38 #2
There wasn't time to recover. Zayne started down the hall, Ashantae running ahead to check for guards.
As much as his body hurt, having a few minutes after the fight ended allowed him to get his bearings. When they entered Major Tyndale's office through the back, weapons on him, Zayne could at least breathe again.
The major almost reached his gun but froze with his fingertips grazing the handle.
“We're not here to hurt you,” Zayne said.
“Who are you?”
Wincing from lifting his arm, he ripped his mask off, and the major drew back when he saw his face. “Zayne Riven,” he said.
Ashantae lifted Zayne’s shirt and applied pressure to his wound. He growled through gritted teeth at the explosion of pain, casting a look at his friend over his shoulder.
“What did you do?” Major Tyndale asked. “Why are you here?”
“I want to make a deal,” Zayne said, wincing.
Alcohol poured over the wound like fucking lava right in the middle of Zayne negotiating, and he lowered his head, muscles shaking from how hard he tensed. They only had two minutes. He knew Ashantae couldn't wait, but he scarcely controlled his temper.
Major Tyndale looked skeptical, but impressively calm. “What kind of deal?”
“My brother led an operation to extract information from Becka.” His nostrils flared when Ashantae pinched the wound closed, applying medical strips.
“She's unharmed. We attacked the squad before they could interrogate her, but someone will find the bodies soon.
If we're going to negotiate, you need to help us escape for now.”
“I'm not sure how much of a choice I have given your weapon.”
“My friend's intel shows you're the only one who objected to killing Kira Stiles.” He wiped the sweat from his face, feeling Ashantae bandaging the wound now. “I'm the one who tried to break her out.”
“You?” The major asked. “That's hard to believe.”
“I need someone I can trust not to kill her. In return, I'll give you whatever you want that I can reasonably provide.”
“Is this a trick?”
“I just stopped my brother from forcing Becka to divulge the location of Followers all over Ciondo. There's no way what I'm doing benefits the Phaedra.”
Ashantae applied the pressure bandage. “Done.”
“There's no time to talk today,” Zayne said. “I wanted to introduce myself. My friend will be in contact. Please, hear us out before saying no.”
The major's hand still rested near his gun. “I'm willing to talk if I choose the location.”
“Fine with me,” Ashantae said.
Zayne held the major's eyes. “Tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you. You'll hear from us soon.”
Any second now, they'd hear the alarms. No more time.
He and Ashantae sprinted from the room toward their escape.
On the way, Zayne stripped off his shirt and tossed it to his friend.
Then he pulled the uniform and helmet he was supposed to be wearing from his bag.
Once they made it to the closet with the window they'd use, he switched his pants and passed his bag to Ashantae.
“Thank you.”
“Can you hide the wound?” they asked.
“Yeah. I'll deal with it. Be safe.”
Every movement hurt when he dragged himself through the window, but he couldn't slow down.
Zayne reached Brock with less than a minute to spare, and together they took the service exit out of the base, while the alarms started blaring in the background.
The half-mile hike to the van waiting for them drained Zayne's waning energy. “I need you to watch my back for blood. Left side.”
Brock groaned. “I knew something was wrong with you.”
“Don't worry. I can hide it once we're with the others. Luke is hurt too.”
Despite the mission going awry, everyone still alive made it to the vehicles on time.
“I'm sorry I didn't reach you during the attack.” Zayne looked down at the ground. “I ran as fast as I could.”
“You were too far away,” Luke said, his arm in a sling. “We lost good soldiers.”
Now wasn't the time to let guilt distract him. “Did you get anything?”
“No.” Then with a great sigh, his brother looked at him.
“I should have put you in the room with me.
I let our personal issues cloud my judgment, and I left our team's best combatant monitoring cameras.” As much pain squeezed his expression from this admission as when Zayne stabbed him.
“I take responsibility for what happened back there.”
“I would have done the same to you. And I'd be the one nursing a wound just like you. I seem to remember us being pretty evenly matched last time we sparred.”
Which had been about twenty minutes ago.
Luke smirked at that. Something he hadn't done in three years. “You're getting soft, trying to make me feel better. You used to rub it in.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Father ordered us to get along.”
A serious look came over Luke. “Those attackers were skilled, and they weren't from the United.
We think they wanted to steal our target from under us to gain leverage.
My team already found a tracker on Christopher's car.” His nose wrinkled with disgust. “I met with him right before we came.
That fool doesn't even know how to keep from being followed.”
Zayne's plan worked. It surprised him how quickly they found the tracker Ashantae planted. He liked sabotaging Christopher. He hoped he'd have the chance to do it again one day.
For the rest of the ride, Luke stared out the window, looking burdened and heavy.
And Zayne was thankful for his sharp attention to finally be off him, because the more the adrenaline faded, the more his back screamed with pain.
He just needed to make it somewhere private so Brock could help him with bandages and make sure he didn't bleed through his shirt.
If Luke saw blood spots right where he'd stabbed his attacker, then everything would be over.