Chapter 27 #4
“It. Will,” Caden retorted, his attention on the door like he could see through it and find his father somewhere behind it.
“Even if I do it myself.” For a moment, he glanced back at Birdie.
No emotion showed on his face, but when their eyes met, the air charged around us before he whipped back, gripping his gun.
“It’s time.” He darted out, scrambling to the next barrier to hide behind, setting the mission in play.
There was no turning back now.
“Here we go,” I muttered to myself. Inhaling deeply, I crept out from behind the wall, the rest of the first group close behind me.
We darted to a stack of wooden crates, bringing us closer to the door.
My heart thumped wildly in my chest, knowing how easily we could be caught.
Every breath attached to my pulse, fear coating my throat, adrenaline zapping through my muscles.
I had been in a lot of life and death situations, too many to count, in which I barely made it out, but something amplified tonight’s mission, the sense of dread turning in my stomach.
It was like we all knew the chances of pulling this off, being so outnumbered, and getting out of here alive wasn’t even in the cards.
That our fate was to cripple Markos as much as possible while Mykel picked up the baton back in Budapest, the one to finish the war because we gave him the chance to do so.
My finger on the trigger, I peered out, my eyes focusing on the door. Another man in a lab coat tapped at the keypad, the door opening and closing quickly behind him.
“There’s a coded lock,” I whispered to my group, tucking back in when a small troop marched by.
Terror plunged through my lungs when I saw one twitch his head our way, ready for the acknowledgment of our presence.
Seconds ticked by, and nothing. Swallowing, I peeked back out, the unit already absorbed into the other mindless soldiers. “And a fingerprint entry.”
“Fingerprint? How do we get past that?” Lukas hissed.
“Seriously?” A tiny voice pitched in my ear, whipping my head around to see Opie climb onto Brexley’s shoulder from her backpack, Bitzy in her rucksack, her middle fingers up, her eyes peering at us like she couldn’t handle our stupidly.
“Oh, peasants . . . Your continued lack of intelligence astounds me.” Opie pulled his kitty mask tighter across his face, the dried spaghetti noodles wiggling.
He motioned to the Ash. “Hey, mushroom man . . .” He nodded to his hand.
Ash lifted an eyebrow but put out his palm, Opie strolling onto it before he lowered him and Bitzy to the ground.
“See, Bitz? You can train them.” He waved Ash’s hand away, strolling like a noble past our legs. “You all think so small and forget small things can do very big things.”
Chirp! Bitzy whirled her fingers at us with a glare before Opie took off. My eyes could barely track them until they reached the door. Scaling up to the keypad, they poked and tapped at the panel. From here I could see the red flash on the screen, denying them access.
Sub-fae were good at unlocking magic locks, but not computer ones.
“Shit,” I hissed, looking around to make sure no one had noticed the activity, the red flashes feeling like a beacon.
My body froze when I saw the door start to slide open.
It would only be a second before whoever was on the other side would see Opie and Bitzy.
My gaze darted to the man stepping out, waiting to see his attention pull down to the keypad, my heart in my throat.
The man stepped through, continuing without a flicker in their direction.
I blinked, realizing they weren’t there anymore.
A scuttling behind the man’s dark shoes drew me to the pair rushing for the closing door.
Opie threw his body in the opening, the door hitting him and stopping, leaving it pried open enough for us.
“Brownie pancake.” Ash chuckled, nudging Brexley, sharing something none of the rest of us did. “Not very magical, but gets the job done.”
A howl of a train whistled down a tunnel to us, pulling attention from the soldiers for a moment.
“Now!” Brexley ordered, already leaping out of our hiding space, darting for the door.
Warwick and I were right behind, our guns pointed opposite ways, covering the areas someone could come from.
Brexley took only a second to check behind the door before swiping Opie and Bitzy up and slipping through.
The rest of us followed like water through a gap, the door hissing shut with a clink behind us.
We entered a bunker-style chamber, feeling like we had stepped back into the old world before the iron curtain fell.
I could see curved ceilings, with water and electrical lines running along the side of the cement tunnels.
There was no place to hide, our boots softly padding down the corridor toward the door at the end where an intersection of passages made a T.
Murmuring voices stopped us in our tracks, two soldiers coming down one side of the path, stopping in front of the doors, speaking Russian in low tones.
Air held in my lungs, my muscles locked tight, I felt like I could disappear into the wall, none of us daring to move an inch.
I saw one of the men turn to the keypad, his fingers about to type, when he stopped, his head curving to us instead.
Fuck.
His eyes widened in shock, his buddy swinging around. “Intruders,” he yelled in Russian, grabbing for his gun.
Warwick and Ash reacted in unison, their figures were brutal, but their movements were almost a dance, cutting between the men in a blink.
Warwick struck out, slamming his fist so hard into one that the officer flew back, cracking his head against the wall.
He dropped to the ground limply, his neck clearly broken.
Ash whipped the other one off his feet, knocking the air from his lungs as he hit the cement, gasping and struggling for air.
“You will not make a sound.” Ash stood over him, pointing his gun at his head, speaking fluently in the man’s native language. “Or you will end up like your friend.” He nudged him with his foot. “Get up.”
“Po’shyol ’na hui!” Fuck you! The officer spat at Ash.
Warwick growled, grabbing the man by his neck and picking him off the ground.
“Type in the password,” Warwick commanded.
“No.” The man stuck out his chin in pride.
“Do you know who I am?” Warwick tilted his head, squeezing down harder on his neck, bringing their faces inches apart.
The officer swallowed, a nervous tic twitching under his eye.
“You do.” Warwick grinned, baring his teeth, appearing even more menacing.
“You’ve heard the stories, what I can do.
Let me tell you, they are greatly under exaggerated.
No one talks about how my victims piss and shit themselves, pleading and groveling for mercy .
. . but the more you fight back, the slower I rip your lungs out and flay them open.
I will slice out your intestines and force you to eat them. ”
The officer’s teeth gritted, trying to hide his terror. Being face to face with the Wolf was the stuff of nightmares for many; his legend struck fear in the hearts of his enemy. Just his presence alone had most groveling in seconds.
This one was trying to be tough, but we smelled the urine, seeing it darken his pants and trickle down his leg.
“Type the code in.” Deep and menacing, Warwick’s order almost had the man in tears. Shaking, he reached out, putting in the password and placing his thumb on the screen.
Beep!
A green light flashed, unlocking the door. It skated open to another small outer chamber, another layer of security before you could get to whatever they were protecting.
An officer stood guard by the door, a gun in hand, ready to defend. Their gaze far off, their body stiff, waiting for an order like a mindless zombie.
The world stopped.
My lungs shut down, my body freezing in place. Everything flipped over, burying me underneath.
Bazdmeg . . .
The guard was Hanna.