Sean, as expected, was the first to speak up. “I get the strategy and all, but why include Emma in this mission? We’ve spent ages building a crew thatclicks. She’s not exactly part of it.” He glanced her way, thumb grazing the edge of the table before retreating to his lap. “I don’t mean to question yer skills. It’s only… it’s taken us a long time to get this team running smoothly. Yer not a part of its dynamic, and it’s a risk.”
Emma stayed quiet, her face giving nothing away.
I felt a flicker of irritation rise, but I kept my voice steady. “Do you know if the Radicals are in possession of a LiaPrism?”
Sean blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, no, I haven’t heard anything about them having one.”
“Does that mean they definitely don’t?” I pressed, not letting him off the hook.
He hesitated, swallowing hard. “Not necessarily. They could have one. After all, they managed to acquire an Amplifier, which was thought to be impossible. So, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume they might have a LiaPrism as well.”
I straightened my spine, then forced him to see the bigger picture. “And if we execute our missions in the Human World, could we operate under the radar if they do?”
Sean’s face shifted as he finally caught on. “We need her because her translation is untraceable.”
I nodded, feeling a small sense of satisfaction at his understanding. “Right.”
Emma crossed her arms, trying to steady herself. “So, that’s why you brought me here? Because you could use me?”
I kept my expression impassive. “Of course. What did you think? You thought I brought you in here out of pity for your high school relationship drama?” I let out a short, disdainful laugh.
I could practically see the anger flare in her eyes. “No, gods forbid you’d care about my personal problems.”
Meeting her glare, my tone took on a biting edge. “And I never will. I’m First Offensive of this Collective. As far as you’re concerned, I’m your commanding officer and no more than your worst nightmare.”
“Trust me, you still are,” she muttered, only loud enough for me to hear.
I didn’t react, keeping my face as stern as ever. “Good. Now both of you, listen.”
TWENTY-FIVE
EMMA
So that’s where she’d been. When Enya left so unexpectedly from Cyclos, she’d been pulled back by Caden to go undercover with the Radicals. At least it explained her radio silence through the Nexus these past few months.
My eyes darted to Caden. The man in charge. As he laid out the details of the operation—a plan I had to admit was impressively strategic—I tried to focus on his words. But despite my efforts, my mind kept drifting back to Coastal: the surgical tray, the sterile room, Rex and his violent tendencies, Caden’s stoic face when he killed him in cold blood for punching me.
What the hell was I doing here?
Keep it together, Emma. Don’t you dare show any weakness.
I snapped back. I had to focus on the present—on the mission.
As Caden wrapped up the details of the plan, he turned, locking his full attention on me. “Emma, you’ll be in charge ofall translation when we move out of the Metasphere. Once we’re certain Camp B is abandoned, we’ll portal out to Dublin.”
I nodded, reminding myself how fighting Radicals was something I’d choose over anything else, any day. Especially after remembering what they did to the children of the Scola. Jack. The image of his face—innocent, terrified—flashed in my mind. Rage simmered beneath my skin, and I tightened my grip on the table’s edge. I’d never forget it. I’d never stop fighting because of it, because of them.
“Got it,” I said, my voice calm, though the fire inside me burned hotter. “What’s our timeline?”
“We move out at midnight,” Caden replied. “I don’t want to lose too much time. You’ll need to be prepared to go in as soon as we reach our target. I trust you’ll be ready.”
“Of course,” I said, squaring my shoulders, while ignoring the insecurity lingering in the back of my mind.
Caden ushered us out of the briefing room and down a series of narrow, shadowy corridors, while the sound of our footsteps echoed way too loud, drowning out the horribly uncomfortable and awkward silence between the three of us.
We stopped in front of a massive, reinforced door stamped with the Collective’s insignia—a stylized spiral of blades encircling a single, unblinking eye—because subtlety was clearly overrated here.
Caden placed his hand on it, and with a dramatic hiss that practically screamed “Welcome to Caden’s lair,” the door slid open, revealing akitchen.
