My first mission. The words echo in my mind, a hollow reminder of what I’ve gotten myself into. Mere weeks of training, and now they’re sending us to hunt women in hiding.
Women like me.
The weight of the mission seizes my lungs, making each breath a conscious effort. I distract myself with the barren landscape outside—scrubland giving way to the outskirts of Pyrem’s residential district. Not far from where I grew up. Not far from the house where my parents are probably still wondering if I’m alive.
“Keep your eyes sharp,” Kellen instructs from the front compartment, his voice carrying the calm authority I appreciate. Especially when frenzied butterflies invade my stomach. “We don’t leave room formistakes.”
I swallow hard, grateful the tremor in my jaw is hidden. Six other recruits sit across from me, their identical masks hiding whatever thoughts might be passing through their minds. Are they excited? Nervous? Do they feel anything at all about what we’re to do? I could use my power to figure that out, but I’m too wound up. I’ll probably lash my terror out on someone and give myself away.
The transport slows as we enter a neighborhood of modest homes. Nothing fancy—just simple structures where ordinary people live ordinary lives. Except there’s nothing ordinary about this place anymore. Not with us here, or what we’ve come to accomplish.
The vehicle lurches to a stop, and my stomach goes with it. The back doors swing open, flooding the dim interior with harsh sunlight. Arayik stands outside, his mask tilted toward us expectantly.
“Move,” he commands.
We file out in practiced order, our boots hitting the packed gravel in near-unison. The sound is obscene with how quiet it is.
My eyes scan our surroundings, absorbing details from the cluster of small houses. They remind me of my own home—the place I left behind. My throat tightens at the thought.
Kellen gestures to a gray-stone house at the end of the street. The structure is unremarkable—worn shutters, a small garden out front with withering vegetables. Nothing about it screamsrebellionorharboring fugitives.
It’s just a home. Someone’s sanctuary.
Just like mine was.
“Intelligence confirms one female presence,” Arayik states, monotone as if discussing the weather rather than a human life. “Standard procedure. Secure the men, extract the woman.”
I’m going to vomit. How in the world did I think I could do this?
I blindly stumble alongside the others in formation as we spread around the house. I’m paired with Calder, positioned at the side entrance. My pulse hammers in my ears as we take position and my power releases. I can already sense the emotions emanating from inside the house—fear, sharp and acrid like burning metal; determination, a steady undercurrent like a river flowing beneath ice in the dead of winter; and something deeper, something like resignation. They know we’re here, and they know there’s nothing they can do about it.
Arayik signals and the front door crashes inward under Nash’s boot. Shouts erupt from inside—male voices, desperate and angry. I cringe as Kellen bark commands, biting my tongue when furniture topples.
“Go,” Calder whispers, nodding toward the door beside us.
I draw the standard-issue stun weapon from my belt. It feels wrong in my hand. The weight of it makes my covered palm sweat.
Calder places his hand against the lock, and the metal changes, glowing red-hot then white. It melts inward with a soft hiss, and he kicks the door open.
We enter a small kitchen. A cracked porcelain mug rests on the counter, the handle poorly glued back in place. Pink and purple flowers outline the exterior, reminding me so much of the mug my mother uses for her tea every morning. A throat clears, and I focus on anything else. Dishes sit half-washed in a basin while a pot of something—stew, maybe—simmers on a heating element. It’s so…domestic.
This is theirlife. How can we do this to them?
A crash from the front room snaps me back to the present. Calder moves and I follow, our boots creaking against the wornfloorboards. Everything is magnified, each step bringing me closer to something I can’t undo.
The emotions intensify as we approach the main room—fear becoming terror, determination hardening into desperation. I round the corner and freeze.
Three men kneel on the floor, hands behind their heads. Enforcers stand over them, weapons trained on their skulls. One of the men is older, gray streaking his temples. The other two seem younger—brothers, perhaps, with similar features. Their faces are etched with defiance even as their bodies tremble.
“Where is she?” Arayik demands, his voice slicing through the room.
None of the men answer. The oldest one spits at Arayik’s feet, earning himself a vicious backhand that sends him sprawling.
“Search the house,” Arayik orders. “Find her.”
Pieces of my team disperse, tearing through rooms, upending furniture, ripping apart anything that might conceal a hiding place. I stand rooted to the spot, my mind racing. I should be helping. Playing my part. But all I can think is:These men are going to die. They’re going to die, and I’m going to watch it happen.
A shout from the left tilts the very axis of my world. “Found her! Hidden compartment in the floor!”
