Grudge comes and stands next to me, taking his own look. “Warehouse four it is,” he whispers.
There’s the familiar sound of weapons being checked, safeties removed.
“We search in twos,” Grudge says. “One on one is a risk. Classic stalemate if he has a gun to Wren’s head. In twos, we stand a chance.”
He orders, “Catfish and Atom. Jackal and Shade. Smoke and Wraith. I’ll go with Taco.”
I don’t wait to hear the rest of the instructions. We move.
“There,” Jackal says. “Footprints. Longer stride for him. Shorter for Wren. To that door.”
I try to ignore the gut-wrenching agony induced by seeing that, occasionally, their footsteps turn into drag marks. But when I see the blood drops on the snow, I turn and throw up. I wipe my mouth on the back of my sleeve.
Grudge tries the door, and the handle gives.
Once inside, we split; Atom and I follow the blood and take the stairs immediately facing us.
I need to find Wren, because I want the life we planned. Turning the ranch house into our home. Giving Wren a safe place where they can do all those things they wanted to do.
I remember what they said in the kitchen.
Once this is all over, I want to sit somewhere quiet. Get some rest. Eat good food. Get back into the habit of hitting the gym because my routine has been a mess for the last month. Maybeget a dog I can walk every morning to get outside. Ride Blaze, if you’ll let me. Then, get a blank piece of paper and plot out what the rest of my life looks like. But it doesn’t look like this. I mean, it involves technology. That’s my skill. But something different. Maybe build something people need.
“Just fucking fight, Wren,” I mutter.
We make our way into the upper hallway, continuing our search. I was hoping it would be a large open-plan mezzanine overlooking the warehouse, but it’s a kick in the gut to realize it’s lots of offices off a long hallway. Now would be a real good time for my mom’s lifetime commitment to crystals and sigils and mantras to kick in. I remember the crystal she gave me that’s still in the pocket of my jacket, and I take half a second to pat it.
And as I do, I see a sliver of light from beneath the door of one of the offices.
It lasts less than a second before it’s off again.
“Wren’s there,” I say.
“You sure?” Atom whispers.
“Just saw a light go on and off.”
“I’ll let the others know.” Atom pulls out his phone and types a quick message.
Don’t let this be the end. Don’t let this be all my life adds up to.
I want our fucking future. Wren and me. A hundred years from now won’t be enough.
Suddenly, Wren screams.
And God, it’s never sounded so fucking good. Because it means they’re alive.
But…fuck…
I run to the office and shove the door wide open. With Atom to my right, I move to the left.
Wren is sitting tied to a wooden chair at an ugly round table. Chase is behind them. Gun to their head.
Their shirt is ripped open. And the fucker has tried to remove Wren’s binder with a knife but only got part way before we disturbed him.
There’s a large patch of blood, a bright red comma on Wren’s skin, just below their shoulder.
Relief that Wren’s alive, and fury that they’re hurt intertwine; I know Wren would hate to be exposed like this.
