“There’s been a new development. We have reports that Cross Redden is on-site.”
Chapter 25
Cross is at the salt mine.
Teriq’s words run on an endless loop in my mind. The entire flight, I vacillate about when to reach out to Cross. I fully intend to warn him about our impending assault—I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him—but this entire mission hinges on the element of surprise.
And you don’t trust him.
I try to shove the accusation out of my mind, but it’s too late. It’s taken root.
It’s not true, though.
I trust him. Of course I do.
Then why aren’t you contacting him right now?
My anxiety has me in a choke hold, making my head spin. I’ve never been in this position before. The man I love might be in danger, and I’m purposely remaining silent.
“Two clicks from the landing zone,” Luisa says in our earpieces.
We all undo our harnesses and adjust our chutes, checking that everything’s secure. Saint rises to his full height, ducking as he makes his way to the cargo door. Once he has it open, cool air hisses throughthe small plane. I nervously tug on the straps of my parachute, praying that the rip cord works when I pull it.
The first time I jumped out of a plane was during a Command training exercise. It was the most exhilarating feeling in the world, and the novelty hasn’t worn off one bit. The moment I’m airborne, a thrill shoots through me. This is the closest a human will come to flying, and it’s a terrifying, freeing sensation. For one heart-stopping moment, you’re not tethered to the earth or the sky. You just…exist. Suspended in the air.
The sky is more purple than black tonight, the color of bruised eggplant. I don’t know why that’s the image that comes to mind, but it’s all I’m picturing as I fall from the plane, the cold wind biting into my face. The drop zone looms far, far below us. I wait until I see Saint’s parachute billow open before pulling my own rip cord, and it engages with a sharp snap.
I focus on the ground, hitting it with a soft thud a few moments later. Several meters away, Neema lands, rolling and then rising to her feet in one fluid, practiced motion. It annoys me how skillfully she did that.
The moment my boots meet land, my anxiety returns. It’s been churning like an eddy in my stomach since I found out Cross was here. Iwillwarn him. Soon. We just need to take out those perimeter guards first.
“This way,” Saint says, striding toward the tree line. He looks deadly as hell in a tight black shirt that hugs his impressive chest, weapons strapped to every inch of him.
In the brush we find a cache of vehicles in a hidden carport like the one Gray showed me outside the city. Saint, Henley, and the rest of the attack team converge on the supply truck while Neema and I hang back, waiting for direction. It soon comes in the form of a lanky figure emerging from the shadows.
It’s Declan. The last time I saw the man, he was taking me to a safe house in the Point, which I then escaped so I could try to save Uncle Jim.
I know he recognizes me, because his dark-brown eyes narrow when they flick over me. He doesn’t remark on my presence, turninginstead to report to Saint. Silently. They’re both in long sleeves, but Saint’s are pulled up just enough that I can see the veins in his wrists shimmering. So much for full disclosure. The telepathic conversation doesn’t last long, and then Declan addresses me and Neema.
“You’re with me. We’re taking the bikes.”
My pulse quickens as I watch Declan stalk toward one of the sleek bullet bikes in the corner of the carport.
Neema hisses under her breath as she passes me. “Don’t fuck this up.”
I roll my eyes at her back.
The attack team piles into the black supply truck, Henley sliding behind the wheel. His golden hair is pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck, emphasizing his chiseled features. The engine barely makes a sound as Henley starts the truck. Headlights off, he pulls out of the port, tires crunching over branches and overgrowth as the vehicle slips away into the darkness.
Declan secures his pack over his shoulders, as does Neema. They’re carrying the charges. I twist my rifle so it’s strapped across my back.
“Stay close.” Declan swings his leg over one of the motorcycles.
Neema and I follow suit, the soft rumble of our engines breaking the silence a moment later. I keep my head low, fingers curled around the handlebars as we speed down the dark road in the direction of the mine.
It isn’t long before the silhouette of the sprawling facility comes into view. It looms in the distance, its shadow stretching across the barren land. From what I read earlier in the files, the Ice Canyon salt mine runs over eight miles underground. It taps into a huge salt deposit that stretches from Ward B all the way north to New Ontario, the former name of Ward A.
Chatter echoes through the feed as the other teams get into position. With our signal jammers preventing her from being spotted by the Company’s radar tower, Luisa is already back in the air, ready to launch her air assault. No sugar bombs tonight—the goal isn’t to obliterate the entire facility—but she’s been tasked with causing damage to the watchtower in the northeast corner.
