Lights are blazing in the guesthouse, which is where the drones had picked up the biggest concentration of heat sources. There are spotlights illuminating the stable block too, but there are no windows to expose the horrors it was built to contain.
“Send a scout for a closer look inside the guesthouse,” Ash tells Jake through our comms.
We listen to Jake give instructions, then wait for feedback.
“No sightings,” the scout says. There’s an edge to his voice. “The rooms on the ground floor lookclear.”
I want to see it as a positive, but I can feel the tension emanating from my brother.
“Fuck, it must be a trap,” Ash mutters. “Hunter, prepare to clear the gates once we’re in position. Jake, we’ll go in with minimum force until we know what we’re dealing with.” He looks to me, and cuts off his microphone. “Is there any chance I can convince you to stay back?”
“No.”
“Thought not,” he says with a sigh. “Just be prepared to make a hasty retreat if I call it.”
I nod. I’m not stupid. A trap means Quinn isn’t here, and I can’t help her if I get captured or worse.
When Ash gives the command, we keep low and move fast. Dark shadows join us as we head for the house, Ash leading from the front. There are no blinds covering the windows, and we don’t see any movement inside as we pass. Our team carry low grade explosives to blast the door, but Ash turns the handle first. It’s unlocked.
He holds my gaze as he presses a hand to his earpiece. “Check positions.”
A series of confirmations come through that everyone’s in place.
He nods to me once. “Go, go, go!” he says as he crashes through the door.
Five more of us enter a narrow corridor. The air is heavy with dry heat, and sweat trickles from my temples as we kick open doors and cover each other as we search sparsely furnished rooms that offer few hiding places. We move cautiously to the second floor and repeat the process.
One word gets repeated over and over. “Clear.”
The sound tears at my soul, piece by agonizing piece because it’s not only the house that’s empty. The stables aretoo, and Jake and his men have almost finished their sweep when he bellows down our comms.
“I have eyes on a device! Retreat!”
Despite the scramble to move, the evacuation is efficient and coordinated. Ash stays by the door and ensures every last one of us is out before we head back to the woods.
“Hunter, I need a report. Now,” Ash commands as he takes cover behind a tree.
“We’ve neutralized the situation with no shots fired. The two guards were recruited by Ilya, but they’re not his men. They’re locals,” he says. “We’re on our way over to you. Mace wants to see the device.”
“Fine, but keep the drones in the air in case there’s a counter attack. No one stands down until we figure out what the fuck is going on.”
By the time Hunter and Mace appear, Jake is with us too. We’re all looking at the photo he shared of the device taped to a wall in one of the stalls.
I squint at the image. “It looks like a regular cell phone.”
Mace scoffs, because of course he knows better. “A cell phone being used as a remote.”
“There are cameras in there,” Jake says. “Ilya could be waiting for us to gather around before he sets it off.”
Hunter folds his arms across his chest. “Then he can wait until hell freezes over.”
I wait for someone to offer a new plan, but no one does, leaving me more nervous than I was when we got here. “Is that it? We’re just going to leave?”
“Ilya’s not coming back here,” Ash says. “The intel was a false trail, and getting us here was for Ilya’s private amusement, nothing more. The heating in the house was to cover up an abandoned site. We need to look elsewhere.”
“But where?!” I demand, searching each face in turnand getting nothing back except blank stares. “We’ve been looking for Ilya for months now. Quinn and Strider were searching for him for far longer than that. We can’t fucking find him! And if we can’t find him, it means we can’t… we can’t…” I run out of breath at the last.
Someone, most likely Ash, puts a hand on my back as I double over, but I have my eyes closed tightly. I brace my hands against my trembling knees as I try and fail to picture what might be happening to Quinn right now. Maybe she’s being forced to watch the livestream of our failed rescue attempt. Or maybe she’s being forced to do something else.
