Chapter Sixteen
The air in the Underground was chillier than Christian remembered. Dampness seeped into his bones even through the SARTF gear he wore, and the soles of his boots were already tinged with rust-colored dirt. He moved ahead of the others, his boots silent on the crimson stone.
The ultralight on his vest cast long shadows dancing across the red stone walls of the crumbling tram corridor as they passed beneath exposed beams of revarium steel that jutted out like ribs.
Some tunnels were wide enough for all three of them to walk side by side.
Others funneled them into single file. At their feet, ancient rail lines gleamed faintly with condensation.
A grating whine groaned in the distance.
“Feels like we’re walking straight into a grave,” Hawk muttered, adjusting the strap on his rifle.
Christian nodded but kept his eyes forward. “If the Dissent’s using this route, they didn’t choose it for comfort.”
Imara sent her drone—which she’d named Karma—to scan a sealed archway carved into the tunnel wall. “Doors like this could lead to an old control vault. Or an ambush.”
“Can we not think like that?” Hawk scolded.
“Why? You don’t wanna be prepared?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Hush.”
Moments later, Christian halted at a fork. The left descended into black, the stairs steep and narrowing. The right curved into a tunnel just wide enough to accommodate a cart track. He crouched and brushed his fingers across a fresh scuff in the dust.
“Someone’s been through here. Recently.” Rising from his crouch, Christian dusted off his gloved fingers against his thigh. “We take the right. Tread carefully.”
The tunnel sloped gently downward, its curved walls closing in with each step. The metal rails beneath them grew half-submerged in muck, and every so often, Christian caught a faint whiff of sulfur.
Behind him, Hawk muttered something under his breath.
Imara snorted. “What was that?” she asked, her voice hushed but amused.
“I said, places like this remind me how much I took Gallowood House for granite.”
Imara cackled. “It’s ‘granted,’ you idiot. Granite is a stone from Earth.”
Christian’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t turn. He needed their minds sharp, but he also knew the rhythm of familiar bickering helped them more than silence would have.
“Forgive me for trying to make a pun under pressure,” Hawk replied. “Not all of us cope by being loud, sarcastic, and mildly terrifying.”
“Wrong again, sir,” Imara chided. “There is no ‘mild’ about my ability to terrify people.”
“That is true. One look at your face, and my eye starts to burn.”
A thwack, then a yelp from Hawk sounded.
“Children,” Christian interjected, “please stay focused.”
They fell into step again, though Christian could hear the grin in Imara’s breathing.
A few minutes later, the tunnel widened into a partial alcove where scrap metal and rusted paneling littered the floor.
At first glance, it looked like debris from a collapsed tram stop.
Until Christian noticed the footprints—multiple sets.
Heavy treads, some fresher than others. He followed them to where a piece of rusted paneling appeared purposefully askew.
He crouched, lifting it, and Hawk held it open as Christian and Imara reached inside a hole.
Vacuum-sealed ration packs, a few low-yield explosives, several pieces of Systems-grade tech, and a black box with a blinking green light had all been tucked away.
“Good news, we found their cache,” Christian said.
“Bad news,” Imara said, “we either just hit the jackpot, or we’re about to get jumped.”
Hawk’s gaze moved to the black box, where the green light continued to blink steadily. “What is that thing? You think this is bugged to alert someone we opened it?”
“Maybe,” Christian replied. “Or it’s just a decoy, and no one will come running.”
Imara stood. Her gaze swept the tunnel’s dark edges. “I need Karma to scan all of this and get it logged. Ahna’ll want to look at it all before we pull anything.”
Christian nodded in agreement.
“You think they’ll come back for it?” Hawk asked.
“Oh, they will,” Christian answered. “This cache was left here intentionally. It could be a known dead drop for the Dissent.”
“It’s definitely a drop site,” Imara interjected, tapping at the bracer on her forearm. “No one just wanders down here this far.”
After capturing images of the supplies in the cache and sending them to Ahna, the team retreated to a vantage point further up the tunnel.
Higher ground and tucked behind a partial support wall provided a full view of the cache site and both tunnel forks.
They shut off their ultralights, and Imara put Karma to sleep, leaving the green glow of the relay to pulse faintly in the dark.
Christian knelt beside his friends, his back straight despite the ache settling into his shoulders. He scanned the area again with his scope then lowered it. Still clear. Still quiet.
“Any word from Ahna?” Hawk whispered.
“Not yet,” Imara answered. “I sent her the images, and she acknowledged. They’re probably still playing around with my stash locker.
” She leaned back against the curved wall, planted one foot, and stretched out her prosthetic in front of her.
“She better send a team, though, to collect everything, ’cause I’m not hauling explosives through an unstable tunnel on foot. Even I have limits.”
“You’re admitting to limits?” Hawk asked, mock surprised.
Imara grinned without looking at him. “Just being realistic. I know you struggle with the concept.”
Christian shook his head but couldn’t keep the small smile off his face.
Their banter definitely helped keep the quiet from turning into tension, but his mind was already drifting.
If the Dissent did show up, they’d have the advantage for maybe thirty seconds.
After that, it would be close-quarters chaos.
A soft chime via his biochip made him tense, but it wasn’t from Ahna. The eyepiece over his cornea showed an incoming call from Gemma. Even down here their comms managed to connect, despite their distance. Impressive.
Tension bled from his shoulders as he stood and stepped just far enough from the others for privacy.
He tapped his comm and spoke as quietly as possible. “Hey, you.”
“Hi. You okay? You sound weird.” Her voice was warm, low, and concerned.
His mouth curved. “I’m on a stakeout.”
“Well, that sounds boring. Though, I’d give anything for boring right about now.”
His grin fell. “What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s just . . . a lot to take in. But I’m fine.”
Something deep in his gut told him she wasn’t. But before he could ask, her words shot a wave of heat to his groin.
“Now,” she said, her tone now deep and sultry, “I believe you promised me something. Remember?”
He turned his back to the others, bracing one hand against the tunnel wall. “I’m not exactly somewhere private.”
“Then don’t be loud.”
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Any lingering thoughts about the cache, the mission, and the blinking black box all drifted just out of focus.
“Tell me what you’d do to me if you were here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Christian closed his eyes for a second and let his forehead rest against the cool tunnel wall. His heart thumped wildly in his chest.
“I’d start slow,” he said. “Real slow. Draw you close until your body pressed against mine. Drown in the heat of your skin, your smell.”
A quiet inhale sounded through the comm.
“I’d kiss that spot on your neck,” he continued, his voice low and deliberate. “The one that makes you shiver when I get it just right.”
Gemma made a soft sound, somewhere between a sigh and a moan. His trousers tightened.
“And then?”
“Then I’d press you into the mattress and take my time. Use my hands, my mouth—everything I know you like.” His voice dropped even more. “I’d talk to you the whole time too. Just like this. Tell you exactly how good you taste. How much I love making you come.”
She exhaled hard. “Christian . . .”
He smiled, fighting the urge to palm his cock through his trousers. “Yeah?”
“I’m already shaking.”
His free hand clenched at his side. “Good. Keep going. Tell me what you’re doing.”
There was a rustle of blankets on her end. A small, muffled sound followed. His brain supplied a hundred vivid images. He kept his breathing steady, willing every part of himself to stay quiet and composed.
Gemma’s voice was barely audible. “I’m touching myself. Thinking about you—your hands, your mouth. That little growl you do when you’re right at the edge.”
He bit his lip to stifle a groan. “I want to hear you lose control.”
“Then tell me what you want me to do. Give me orders, Holm.”
Fuck.
Christian adjusted his trousers, relieving some of the strain against his hardening cock. His voice turned sharp and commanding. “Slide your fingers lower, nice and slow. Circle your opening once, twice. Then thumb your clit in gentle, rhythmic circles. Just like I would.”
She obeyed. He could tell by the way her breath hitched. He didn’t need to see her to know exactly how her back arched when she got the pressure right.
This was an entirely new experience for him. Not just the voice sex, but the commanding part. And fuck if it wasn’t making his blood boil.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Don’t stop.”
A whimper. “I want to go faster,” she whispered.
Christian’s eyes fluttered shut as he pictured her in his mind. “Then go faster. Use your whole hand. Keep your circles steady. Pressure right where you need it.”
Another sharp exhale. “Oh stars, Christian.”
“That’s it,” he breathed. “Picture me between your thighs. My mouth on you. You know I don’t stop until you’re trembling.”
She gasped. “I’m already trembling.”
He pressed his forehead harder into the wall. His knuckles whitened at his side.
“Put two fingers inside,” he said, barely able to get the words out. “Nice and deep. Imagine it’s me. Imagine how hard I’d pin you down if I were there.”
Her reply was breathless. “I’d beg you not to stop.”
“You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d make you come so many times you’d forget how to speak.”
Gemma whimpered again. High, desperate, and beautiful.
“Christian—”
“I’ve got you. Don’t stop. Rub your clit while you move. Breathe with me.”
She did. And when she came, she tried to stifle it, but it broke through the comm line anyway. A series of soft, bitten-back cries that Christian would replay in his head for the rest of his life.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his own arousal hot and heavy beneath his gear, but he didn’t touch himself. This was about her. Her release. Her trust in him to guide her there, even from hundreds of kilometers away.
The line went quiet for a few seconds, then Gemma’s voice rang through.
“Oh my stars.”
Christian huffed a quiet laugh, his forehead still pressed against the stone. “You okay?”
“I think I melted into the cot,” she breathed. “Gonna need a mop and possibly divine intervention.”
He grinned, coughing to hide the laughter that exploded from him. “You’re perfect, you know that?”
“And you’re evil. Amazing. But evil.”
“I aim to please.”
Gemma grew quiet again. “I miss you.”
A piercing ache pummeled his chest. “I miss you too.”
They lingered in the silence for a breath. Two. Three.
He squeezed his eyes closed, loathing the words that were about to come out of his mouth. “I have to go,” he said gently.
“I know.”
“Call me whenever you need me, okay? If I don’t answer, I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
“I will.”
“I love you, Gem. More than you even know.”
She had a smile in her voice when she answered. “I love you too.”
Christian ended the call, rejoining the shadows where Hawk and Imara were posted. The ache in his chest stayed, but so did the smile. He tried to refocus, his hand brushing instinctively over the hilt of his grav knuckles as he kept eyes on the relay.
“You good, lover boy?” Imara snarked. “Or do you need a minute to, I don’t know, cool down and refocus on your tactical decisions?”
Christian shot her a warning look, but that only emboldened her.
“Next time,” she said sweetly, “maybe step a little further away before you growl out the words ‘rub your clit.’ Pretty sure the echo bounced off three walls.”
His face roasted.
Hawk smirked. “I thought he was whispering intel.”
“Oh, he was whispering, all right.” Imara cackled.
Christian squeezed the bridge of his nose. “I hate you both.”
“No, you don’t,” Imara said, smug and amused. “You just wish we had bad hearing.”
Hawk grinned. “You’re lucky we didn’t lose signal. She might’ve had to finish the job herself.”
Christian muttered something unrepeatable under his breath and turned back toward the cache. His ears burned, but he was smiling.
A soft chime cut through their teasing. Christian tapped his comm. The message from Ahna popped up on his eyepiece.
BACKUP EN ROUTE TO COLLECT THE CACHE. ETA THIRTY MINUTES. MAINTAIN VISUAL. DO NOT ENGAGE.
“They’re sending a team,” he informed his friends.
“Good,” Imara said. “I was about to start charging rental fees for this perch.”
Hawk adjusted the strap on his rifle. “Let’s just hope the Dissent doesn’t show up early.”
Christian’s hand drifted back to the hilt of his grav knuckles. “If they do, they won’t be leaving.”