“Give me one tactical reason.”
“I’ll give you four.” I pulled my jacket tighter and met his gaze. “The security grid runs through three access points that require compound-level clearance. My clearance. The day before we breach, someone has to physically prep those systems so that when the signal comes, the grid drops in seconds instead of minutes. Minutes mean crossfire. Crossfire means dead wolves in cells who never asked to be there.”
The tent was quiet.
“Wyatt can help me with the prep, but he can’t do it alone. The access points need two sets of hands on two different terminals simultaneously. That’s the mechanical reality. Beyond that, I still need to feed Thiago a reason to leave with the bulk of his hunters on the day we move. False intel that sends him chasing shadows while our converted hunters handle the skeleton crew left behind.”
I stared at them with a serious look.
“I lock the grid, seal the Purifier stores in the sublevel, and fire the flare. You come in with everything we’ve got. The lycans downstairs, every cell, every level, I’ll have mapped before you breach. You won’t be walking in blind.”
I paused. Let the plan sit in the space between us.
“And when it’s over, the converted hunters help me destroy every vial of Purifier in that compound while you three deal with Thiago. That’s the endgame. That’s why I’m going back.”
Solomon’s jaw worked with the muscle tic. I knew what it meant: the tactical argument was sound and he hated that.
“We can’t pull back now. Even with Annora and Giselle’s unexpected poisoning,” I said. “We have to get ahead of Thiago before he gets ahead of us, and every hour I’m standing in this tent is an hour he’s using to prepare for the attack he knows is coming.”
“He doesn’t know when,” Lucian said.
“He will. Men with that much paranoia always figure out the when. The question is whether we’re ready before he does.”
Silence again. Longer this time.
“There is no going back on this,” I said. “We all agreed. The operation is greenlit. Altun and Rheda sanctioned it. The alliance is assembled. Pulling out now because I got hurt doesn’t protect me. It just gives Thiago more time.”
Nobody moved or spoke. Three men processing three different arguments and arriving at the same conclusion they didn’t want to reach.
I stepped forward. Kissed Percy on the left cheek. He closed his eyes and his hand came up to grip my elbow, holding me there for two extra seconds before letting go.
Lucian got the right cheek. His jaw was clenched so tight I felt the tension through my lips. He didn’t close his eyes. Just watched me pull back wearing the expression of a king swallowing a command he wanted to give.
Solomon required logistics. I stood on my toes and aimed for his cheek but the height difference was unreasonable, and my mouth landed closer to his chin. He frowned. Bent at the knees until his face was level with mine, turned his cheek toward me, and waited with the rigid patience of a man submitting to an indignity he refused to acknowledge as affection.
I kissed his cheek properly. He straightened. The frown stayed but his ears were red.
“Was that so hard?” I asked.
“Move. Before I change my mind.”
Farmon’s supplements took ten minutes. Percy hovered while I swallowed the vials. Solomon reviewed the tunnel route with me for the fourth time this month. Lucian spoke with Voss at the perimeter, and when I started toward the eastern tree line, all three of them fell into step behind me.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“You’re getting one,” Lucian said.
“Through the forest?”
“To the compound.”
I stopped walking. “You’re not serious.”
“One sniff of danger,” Percy said. “One thing that feels off. And the plan is gone. We pull you out and we don’t go back.”
“Percy.”
“This is not a discussion, love.”
