She turned it back, studying Brooker’s face more carefully. A strange sensation crawled up her spine as she looked at him—a sense of déjà vu she couldn’t place. Something about the angle of his smile, the way he held himself . . .
She’d never seen an elite in the Boundary. No member of the Serel family would ever venture into the outer ring, especially not unmasked. But somehow, she knew this face.
A sharp knock at her door yanked her from her spiraling thoughts. She jerked in surprise, nearly dropping the photograph.
“Shadera?” Greyson’s voice filtered through the door. “Are you ready?”
“I’ll be right out,” she called back, her voice steadier than she felt. Quickly, she folded the photograph and slipped it into her back pocket, patting it once to ensure it was secure. Her fingers slid over her mask, tracing the design before pulling it from its stand and placing it overher face. The weight settled against her skin, a barrier between her and a world she didn’t belong to. Between her and Greyson.
She would need that barrier tonight.
Thepatrolvehiclesmeltcleaner than anything in the rings. Jameson climbed in last, settling onto the hard bench across from Jaeger, the unfamiliar weight of the uniform constraining his movements. Eight of them packed tight in the transport’s rear compartment, breathing the same recycled air, hearts pounding in unison. No one spoke. The stakes were too high for small talk, the risks too great to waste breath on anything but necessity.
The engine hummed to life, the subtle vibration traveling up through the metal floor into Jameson’s bones. For a moment, claustrophobia threatened to overwhelm him—the enclosed space, the identical faceplates surrounding him, the knowledge that they were heading straight into the heart of enemy territory with only the thinnest of disguises protecting them.
The partition slid open, revealing their driver’s unmasked profile. Jameson’s gun was raised and pointed toward him in one single breath, without hesitation.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Jameson snarled as Jaeger pushed him back.
“Put your gun down, Ghost,” Jaeger commanded, but Jameson didn’t listen. His finger tightened on the trigger.
“This is your officer on the inside?Him?” Jameson breathed, his voice shallowing to a pitch he used to steady himself before taking a shot.
“Put. Your fucking. Gun. Down.” Jaeger ordered again. This time his hand wrapped around the barrel, yanking it toward the floor.
“Control your dog,” Captain Mikel hissed from the front seat.
A low growl left Jameson’s throat. He was Maximus Serel’s right hand. The man that kept all the Veyra in line. The man that stood beside Greyson Serel on the execution platform.
Jameson’s eyes snapped to Jaeger, rage erupting in his gut. This was a setup, this had to be a setup. “You are trusting this piece of shit with our lives? With Shade’s life?”
“I told you,” Jaeger barked, the palm of his hand connecting with Jameson’s shoulder as he shoved him back into place against the wall. “Everyone has a price.”
Jameson’s chest rose and fell frantically, his eyes darting back and forth between Mikel and Jaeger, weighing his options. The silence pulled for a long minute before Mikel spoke again.
“Credentials,” he said, his eyes still studying Jameson’s form as he passed Jaeger a small stack of metallic cards. “They’re genuine but time sensitive. They will only be good for four hours, after that any checkpoint they are scanned at will alert a security lockdown.”
Jaeger took the stack and distributed them to the team. Jameson accepted his, running a thumb over the cool surface. The card pulsed once with blue light, recognizing his gloved touch, then displayed his temporary identity: Officer Tanis Vrell, Patrol Unit 8, Cardinal sector, Authorization Level 3.
“How’d you manage genuine credentials?” Scout asked, examining her own card with skepticism.
“Courtesy of the uniforms you are wearing now,” Mikel answered. “Officers die on patrol. Sometimes their deaths aren’t reported immediately.”
Jameson bit back a scoff. “No loyalty to your own men? I wonder what that means for us.”
Mikel turned to fully look at him then, his full unmasked face on display. “My loyalties are no concern of yours. I have skin in this rebellion, and I plan to save it.”
“Where’s the target?” Jaeger intervened before Jameson could snap back.
Mikel turned forward, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, meeting Jaeger’s reflective faceplate before pulling his helmet back over his head. “She was last seen entering Club Thane in the Entertainment District, approximately eighty minutes ago, with him.”
With him.
Two words that twisted into Jameson’s gut like a serrated blade. He didn’t need clarification on who he was speaking of. The Executioner. The man who had taken Shadera, who was parading her through the Heart like a trophy.
His hand clenched around the credential so tightly the metal edge bit into his palm through the glove. The pain was grounding, a sharp counterpoint to the rage threatening to cloud his judgment. This wasn’t about Serel. It was about Shadera. Getting her out. Getting her home.
“Club security?” Jaeger prompted.
