I can’t do it.
I can’t be the one to condemn these innocents to the fate I’ve spent my life hiding from. The woman with the infant appears barely older than me. The children are scared and confused, tears descending their blotchy faces while they reach for any form of comfort.
My arms waver, lowering the gun to hang at my side once more.
“Ashford!” Elias’ voice cuts through my paralysis. “What are you waiting for?”
I should move. Should follow orders, complete the mission, maintain my cover. But my body refuses to obey. Every instinct screams against what I’m being asked to do.
They’ll kill me for this—something I no longer care about. The Syndicate can have my life if it means those people can be free.
The moment of hesitation costs me immediately. One of the escapee fighters emerges from behind a tree to myright. His weapon swings toward me, and I know I won’t be fast enough to react.
The world slows to a crawl. The muzzle flashes, the displacement of air a small comfort as the bullet passes inches from my head. Then Elias is there, his shoulder slamming into my side as he shoves me down.
My elbow slams into the ground at a bad angle, tearing a cry from me as a searing pain travels through the bone. Elias rolls us behind a thick trunk as more shots pepper the bark above us. His weight pins me down, his breathing harsh in my ear.
“Stay down,” he growls, then rises to return fire.
The rebel’s weapon falls silent, and I know my leader well enough to know his shot was permanent.
Elias’ gaze blazes with an emotion I can’t quite identify. Anger, certainly, but something else underneath. Concern? Suspicion?
“What the hell was that?” he demands, his voice a charged whisper.
“I—” The words stick in my throat. How do I explain without revealing everything? “This is our first real combat…I froze.”
His stare bores into me, searching for truth behind the excuse. “Freezing gets you killed, Ashford. Gets your team killed.”
“I know.” The admission tastes like ash. “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not.” He checks the mag on his weapon, then peers around our cover. “Because next time, I’m not saving your ass.”
The battle is dwindling. I’m unsure of how many escaped, but by the fury in our Commander’s eyes when I round the tree, I would say too many.
I watch as Kellen zip-ties the hands of a man who can’t be more than twenty. Blood seeps from a gash on the prisoner’s forehead, but his eyes remain on the two women next to him. Kellen tugs him forward, and he spits on the leader’s feet, earning a rifle butt to the stomach that doubles him over.
The women are handled with more care, but no less firmly. They’re assets now, property of the Syndicate. Tears cover their faces as Nash approaches and plastic restraints are secured around their wrists.
One of their gazes meets mine, a girl with tangled brown hair. Her eyes hold a question I can’t answer—an accusation I can’t deny. She doesn’t understand why these masked figures have destroyed her world when she’s wanted nothing but autonomy over her own body.
Unable to hold her stare a moment longer, my eyes shift away.
“Deplorable,” Arayik announces as he surveys the aftermath. “We should have had them all contained in half the time. And yetdozens of themmanaged to flee!”
He’s right, and we all know it. The escapees fought harder than expected, as if they were more than prepared for us. Several of our team sport wounds—nothing fatal, but enough to slow us on the journey back.
“We underestimated their capabilities,” Kellen observes, dressing a cut on Ronan’s arm. “They’re better organized than the reports indicated.”
“Better armed, too,” Elias adds. He’s combing through their defenses, cataloging what they’ve collected. “These aren’t homemade weapons or basic hunting rifles. Someone’s been supplying them with Enforcer-grade equipment.”
Truthfully, I’m not surprised.
What did the Syndicate expect? If someone was aidingthem in leaving Dascenia, why wouldn’t they also provide things they could protect themselves with?
But now they know. And if they’re organized enough to mount effective resistance, then this mission is just the beginning. The Syndicate will send more forces, better equipped and less concerned with taking prisoners.
“Pack it up,” the Commander orders. “We’re moving out in ten minutes. I want to be back at the perimeter before dark tomorrow.”
