Jericho drives. I navigate using coordinates from his memory. The facility is remote—deep in the mountains north of Aurora. Hidden by forest and terrain.
Smart placement for something Syndicate wants kept quiet.
We don’t talk much. Both preparing mentally. But there are small moments. His hand finding mine briefly at a stop. My fingers brushing his shoulder when I lean forward to check the map.
Small acknowledgments. We’re in this together.
The facility comes into view just after fourteen hundred hours. We stop well back. Hidden by trees and elevation. Jericho pulls out binoculars from my supply pack.
“Security looks standard,” he murmurs. “Guard rotation on perimeter. Six visible. Probably more inside.”
I take the binoculars. The building is larger than I expected. Three stories. Industrial. Surrounded by fencing topped with razor wire.
“A lot more inside,” I say.
He doesn’t argue. We both know the real defenses are inside. Whatever Vex has protecting his research.
We settle in to wait. Find a position with good sight lines. Both checking weapons. Going over the plan again.
The wait is excruciating. Fourteen hundred hours passes. Then fourteen fifteen.
At fourteen thirty, I check my phone. No messages.
“They’ll make it,” Jericho says quietly.
“They have to.”
Fourteen forty arrives. No sign of my pack.
I scan the approaches. Nothing. Just empty road and forest.
“Nadia.” Jericho’s voice is tight. “Guard shift starts in fifteen minutes.”
“I know.”
Fourteen forty-five. Still nothing.
My heart is pounding. Where are they? They said they’d be here. Merric always keeps his word.
“Something’s wrong,” I say.
“Accident? Roadblock?”
“Maybe. Or Aurora caught up to them. Warned them off.” I scan again desperately. “Or they’re just delayed. Traffic. Something.”
Fourteen fifty.
The facility guards below are starting their pre-shift routines. I can see movement through binoculars. Preparation for rotation.
“Window opens in ten minutes,” Jericho says. “Eight-minute gap during shift change. That’s all we get.”
“I know.”
“If we miss it, the next shift change isn’t until twenty-three hundred hours. By then—”
“I know.” My voice is sharper than intended. “By then, there are captives who might be dead. I know.”
Fourteen fifty-five.
