I let myself drift, hand curled protectively on my dog, the warmth of Wrecker at my back, and the knowledge that when this world ended, we’d end it together.
It was 4 a.m. when Wrecker shook me gently awake. Most of the house was dark, but the air vibrated with something more than caffeine or cold. I drank down a mug of black coffee, hands trembling with a little more than anticipation, then walked with him through the pre-dawn silence toward the main compound.
The snow had stopped, but the ground was covered, the ice creaking under our boots. Every light on the perimeter burned white and clean. I could smell gasoline from the generator house, and the faint, savory scent of the sausage biscuits Bronc insisted on as “breakfast of champions.” I wasn’t hungry. I was too wired.
I set up inside the war room. First, the comms panel: check, double-check, color-coded for Bronc’s system. Then, the tablets—one for drone feeds, one for the security grid, one for remote patch-in to the backup servers that we’d stashed off-site. I lined them up like chess pieces on the large solid wood table. The tactile clicks of the keyboards, the soft beeps of systems coming online, were all the comfort I needed.
Pearl and Maddie arrived ten minutes later, Maddie still in pajama pants under her parka, Pearl in a butter-yellow sweater and the pearls that gave her name. Pearl’s hair was pinned up, her makeup perfect, even at this hour. Maddie was all sleep-creased skin and wild hair, but her eyes were sharp as a hawk’s.
“Showtime?” Pearl asked, taking the rolling chair at the monitor bank.
“Not quite,” I said, “but close.”
Maddie pulled her own seat up to the main comms desk, elbows on the table, waiting for instruction. She’d always been quick on the uptake, but she looked like she wanted to say something.
“You good?” I asked.
She nodded. “I’m.” Then she took a deep breath. “Look, I never got to tell you that I think it was incredibly brave of you to run into this damn clubhouse thinking I was inside when you knew they were planning to blow it up. I know everything started because of the whole hacking thing.” She looked down at her hands. “And I was mad at you at first. But when I heard about what your asshole brother had done to you. I thought about if someone had threatened Bronc, and what I’d do to save his life.” Her eyes met mine. “I can’t blame you for what you did. I’d probably have done the same thing. Your getting yourself blown to hell has nothing to do with my knowing what a good person you are.”
I squeezed her arm. “I appreciate you saying that. I was still wrong in the way I’d handled things. I should have just come to Bronc. Hindsight and all. But we’re here now, and maybe Iron Valor might get closure for what Greenbriar did to Emma Harding all those years ago.”
She just nodded.
I started the system check: camera feeds, every quadrant. Gate 1—clear. Gate 2—clear. South fence, nothing. West approach, a tumbleweed drifted in the wind, but otherwise empty. I pinged each team leader by radio and got a quick status report in return.
Arsenal, up on the ridge: “Locked and loaded.”
Gunner, covering the main gate: “Nothing but whiteout, boss.”
Tyler, on the western perimeter: “Just the coyotes howling. Kinda pretty.”
Each voice in my ear made the world a little more real, a little less like the nightmare of the past week.
Pearl, eyes never leaving the security monitors, said, “I heard Lucia’s vamps had a run-in on the county road. Everything okay?”
“Yep. They shredded two Greenbriar scouts at the gas station just past the airport. Lucia says they’re running clean now.”
“Good,” Pearl said. “Nothing ruins a plan like unexpected company.”
Maddie yawned, then asked, “You nervous?”
I was, but I shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve seen what they’re sending. It’s nothing compared to what’s in this room.”
Maddie flashed a wolfy smile. “God, I love you, Parker.”
“Save it for when we win,” I said with a small smile.
I tapped the earbud, ran diagnostics, synced it to the primary channel. I tested the backup and then the private line that only reached Wrecker. He was already out in the sub-basement, prepping the remote explosives that were our last line of defense.
I checked the time: 5:00 a.m.
I ran the final systems check, hands flying over the keys. The muscle memory was perfect. I didn’t have to think about it anymore; my body was wired for this.
Pearl watched me, eyes creased at the corners. “You’re good at this, you know.”
I shrugged. “I have to be. There’s no one else.”
She nodded, satisfied. “You ever think about what you’ll do after?”
