The camp soon came into view, a “charming” little dystopian setup of ugly-ass bunkers plopped down in the middle of nowhere. The energy signature Petru had detected was definitely coming from here. It buzzed faintly at the edges of my senses, like an annoying mosquito I couldn’t swat.
Saoirse surveyed the base while carrying the face of someone realizing they had walked into a terrible decision. “We’re going to need a miracle to pull this off,” she muttered.
“Or at least a very good plan,” I replied, scanning the buildings for anything screaming super-secret-magical-doomsday-device inside. “Which one do you think is holding the Amplifier? There are, oh, only about forty to choose from.”
“It’s that one,” Saoirse whispered, nodding toward the structure that might as well have had a neon sign readingIMPORTANT STUFF INSIDE. It was surrounded by at least twenty soldiers, all looking far too serious about their jobs. “Though I have no fucking clue how we’re supposed to get in with so many guards standing around.”
She wasn’t wrong; logically, if they were hiding a weapon of mass destruction, it made sense they’d keep it under the heaviest guard.
But something about it felt too…obvious.
“Why hide it in plain sight?” I murmured, frowning.
Saoirse shrugged; her eyes still fixed on the sentinels. “Maybe they’re not so clever.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to calm the nerves spiking at the sight of all the Radicals patrolling the grounds. There had to behundredsof them, moving in well-coordinated patterns, and each one looking way too alert for my liking.
“We’ve got time,” I said finally. “Let’s lay low for an hour or two, watch their movements and see if we can pick up on anything. If it doesn’t give us any new leads, we’ll go for the bunker. But gathering intel first could give us a better chance.”
Saoirse clenched her jaw, clearly impatient. “One hour.”
“Fine.” I scanned the area for a hiding spot less likely to get us killed on the spot.
We tucked ourselves behind a stack of tall crates, deep in the shadows—close enough to see everything without being seen ourselves. Not exactly prime real estate for spying, but it still offered a full view of the camp while keeping us out of sight.
Ten agonizingly slow minutes passed. Every rustle, every stray sound was suddenly the most important noise in the world. Anxiety coiled tight in my chest as I tracked the Radicals’ patrols, while Saoirse watched with the kind of intense focus that suggested she was either calculating our odds of survival or fantasizing about punching someone.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. “Well, one thing’s for sure—the Amplifier isn’t turned on.”
“How can you be sure?”
She tilted her head toward a group of Radicals stationed ahead. “Their hazes are visible—they’re translating. If it were active, they wouldn’t.”
I nodded slowly, a little relief settling over me. "Guess that makes our job a bit easier. As long as we can keep an eye on them, we’ll know for sure.”
A sly grin crept her face, and she switched topics without warning. “Speaking of keeping an eye on someone. What’s going on between you and our First Offensive?”
I frowned. “Nothing’s going on.”
Saoirse snorted, then shook her head. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “How does he look at me?”
Saoirse turned to me with a smirk, but her confidence faltered when she saw the genuine confusion on my face. She blinked, her expression shifting. “Oh my gods. You really don’t know.”
I simply blinked, still baffled.
She cleared her throat. “I thought maybe that was why you came to Crown. After what we did to you at Coastal, I figured you and Caden had some kind of weird, Stockholm-ish relationship.”
I let out a silent laugh, the sound incredulous. “You think I’d ever have a relationship with the man who maimed my arm to the point of permanent disfigurement?”
“Your arm?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious.
I nodded, watching her closely.
“What happened to your arm?” She seemed genuinely confused, and for a moment, I was stunned into silence. She didn’t know? I searched her face for any hint of deception but found none.
With a flick of my hand, I released my haze, keeping it contained enough to stay undetected. The ink of my tattoo faded, revealing the scars beneath. Saoirse’s gasp cut through the silence, sharp and horrified.
