“Maintain position,” I say. “They want us disoriented. Do not fold!”
Another detonation rips through the ground. The force slams me sideways. Debris clips my leg, pain spiking through my flesh. An aide races towards me. A lanky boy who just graduated from university. All high-level officers are required to bring along a medical aide on their missions.
The aide reaches for me.
“Sir—”
“I’m standing,” I snap, already forcing myself upright.
Blood slicks the inside of my trousers, and I ignore the wound.
“Look after the others.”
The realization settles in with cold clarity. They knew we were coming. Someone inside our fold is a traitor.
My gaze flicks instinctively toward the active camera feed on the truck, the one streaming back to the Forge. The officers are watching from the command center and will forward this to my father.
Knox stares at me with concern.
“Retreat?” he asks.
“No,” I say, between gritted teeth.
I refuse to lose.
Another bomb detonates. Screams of pain pierce my ears as the rebels surge forward. They are not trying to kill me. They are trying to captureme.
Knox is right. As much as I want to continue, the risks are too high. We’ve lost before the battle even began, and I refuse to lose any of my people in the hopes of salvaging what looks to be another failed mission.
“Retreat,” I command. “We move on my mark.”
I step back, my boot catching on a limp body.
“I got him,” Orion says, picking up an unconscious Spider.
His head is bleeding, and his tan skin looks ashen. Worry tightens my brows as my fingers search for a pulse.
“He’s alive,” Orion says. “I checked.”
Knox takes the driver’s seat, and I slide into the passenger side while Orion lays an unconscious Spider flat on his back.
I create an illusion, masking us, and hoping it holds. My power feels weak with the injury.
The rebels stand around, confused by our sudden disappearance. It gives us time to slide into our four vehicles. It isn’t until we crank the engine and slam the doors shut that they understand what I’ve done. They still can’t see us, but they shoot blindly in our direction.
“Drive,” I bark.
Knox slams on the gas, and the vehicle lurches.
“How is he?” I ask.
The aide went into the other car. The recruits were in worse shape. Tyson got his arm blown off. A part of me is glad that Haven isn’t here. I don’t know what I would do if she got hurt.
“Silent, for once,” Orion says. “It’s weird.”
I lean back and search for a pulse again. It’s there, but it’s faint. Guilt eats away at me. The kid is in bad shape. I should have made us retreat the second I realized it was an ambush. The rebels were always weak and unorganized. They’ve never attacked us at this scale. This was a coordinated effort. The plan had to be designed by a military strategist.
We’ve underestimated them. The Resistance is a lot stronger than we assumed.
