I placed my hand in his, hoping I wasn’t making the biggest mistake of my life. I didn’t need it to come back and bite me in the ass. My fingers barely grazed his when he reached for me quickly, securing our twined fingers firmly together. He moved without a second thought, keeping his head and shoulders down. I followed clumsily as shots rained from all directions, my feet tripping over each other.
“Kaylor!” Rusty bellowed, my name crackling through the speakers.
The stranger picked up his pace, a sense of urgency nipping at our heels. “Don’t stop.”
Oh, I didn’t plan on it.
10
KREED
Kaylor screaming my name was the last thing I heard before I collapsed into fitful sleep and the first thing that slammed into my consciousness when I jolted awake in a cold sweat at three in the morning. Raw, desperate, terrified, the sound carved itself into my skull.
Sleep had become a foreign concept. I’d spent the entire night pacing the length of her bedroom, wearing a path in the hardwood as I replayed every possible scenario of how this rescue could go catastrophically wrong. There was no margin for error. Not a fucking millimeter of wiggle room. One wrong step, one mistimed move, or one guard we didn’t account for, and I could lose her forever. The thought made my chest constrict until breathing became painful.
Brock, Grayson, Micah, Fynn, Raine, Maddox, Mason, and I spent every waking hour gathering information on the house they were holding the auction at, dissecting the plan, turning it over from every angle until nothing was left unchecked. Brock’s dining room table disappeared beneath a sprawling map of blueprints, surveillance photos, and personnel files. Red ink marked entry points,escape routes, and contingency plans. Black X’s marked possible guard posts.
Fynn and Raine transformed the living room into a command center, setting up their laptops and monitors. Empty energy drink cans and coffee cups littered every surface, evidence of their seventy-two-hour marathon session.
Lines of green code scrolled down their screens faster than my eye could follow, an endless waterfall of numbers and symbols that might as well have been hieroglyphics, but I watched anyway, mesmerized by their fingers dancing across keyboards as they picked apart the auction house’s security system piece by digital piece.
“We’re in,” Fynn announced around hour sixty, leaning back and scrubbing a hand down his face. “Let’s make these assholes our bitches.”
Raine leaned back, a smirk playing at his lips. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was enjoying working with Fynn. He was feeling pretty good about himself right now, which made me start to believe this might actually work. “Seconds before we break those locked gates open for the auction, the entire security grid will go dark. Cameras, alarms, motion sensors—all of it.”
Fynn rubbed at the back of his neck before his gaze met mine. “They’ll be flying blind for exactly twelve minutes before backup power kicks in. That’s our window. You’re up, Corvo.”
Twelve minutes. Seven hundred and twenty seconds to infiltrate, locate her, and get her the fuck out. It sounded like an eternity and no time at all. “We’ll make it work.” I glanced at Brock as he got to his feet. “And your guy. He’s up for this?”
“If he wants that gambling debt he incurred with a not-so-friendly bunch wiped and to live, he’ll keep up his charade flawlessly,” Brock said.
I nodded. “A last-minute buyer could be suspicious. He needs to keep a low profile inside. I don’t want him to be too eager or fidgety.”
Brock’s stormy aqua eyes met mine. “I still can’t believe your dad just handed over the address.”
Me neither. “Trust me, it won’t come without a price.”
“And you’re willing to pay it? Regardless of the fallout?”
“I am for her,” I replied without a speck of hesitation.
Brock seemed to approve of my response, nodding. “Good man. I knew there was something redeemable about you.”
“I wouldn’t deem me a saint just yet.” There was plenty of time for me to still fuck up.
In the abandoned warehouse my father had converted into an armory years ago, Mason, Maddox, and Micah were locked and loaded with a select handful of Ravens. I wasn’t sure it was the wisest plan to have those three leading the firepower, but I trusted no one else. Not with this.
When I stepped inside the warehouse, my eyes immediately found Mason and Maddox. Having the location meant we didn’t necessarily need an inside man, but Brock and I both agreed, for Kaylor’s safety, it made sense to have someone undercover once shit hit the fan. It would ease both of our minds knowing he had eyes on her and could get to her quickly while the rest of us created enough of a diversion to get her out. It was like having a fail-safe.
Maddox sat hunched over a workbench with Alex, sorting through guns. Beside them, Torres was checking ammunition, counting rounds, and loading magazines until his movements became hypnotic.Click, slide, click, slide.
At the far end of the warehouse, Mason and Micah were strapping blades to their thighs, forearms, and the small of their backs. Brock noticed my gaze, and from the pull of his lips, I had an inkling he was thinking the same thing I was…should the two of them be doing anything together, let alone something that involved sharp weapons?
“I’m rethinking all my decisions,” Brock grumbled.
“You’re not the only one. They’re going to be okay, right?” I asked.
“Tonight or in general?”
