Or did seeing him at all after spending time around him unmasked give him away?
“The United agreed to let Becka Rogers and our prisoner talk.”
Zayne's focus snapped to his father at this.
“There will be a delay on each end so we can sever communication if we need to,” the High General said. “It's unlikely we'll gather important information from the talk, but it would help for Kira Stiles to encourage her mother and the United to provide information.”
His insides twisted. Kira would refuse. So stubborn. And Zayne understood that really said something coming from him.
“Will the United allow the message through?” Zayne asked.
“Likely not, but it'll be a good opportunity for the prisoner to prove her cooperation.”
The first test of many. Kira should be out in the territories this morning, not trapped at his parents' house. Everything had gone so wrong. So incredibly wrong.
If being Becka Roger's daughter made life dangerous for Kira, then being the woman Zayne spent three years protecting promised a long, miserable death for her. Should the Phaedra ever discover his duplicity and his connection to Kira…
He couldn't imagine it. He'd lived through that nightmare with his comrades in the north. If the Phaedra hurt Kira the way the militia hurt his comrades, Zayne wouldn't control himself.
He blinked away the flickers of gray fingers and cut off thought. Spiraling didn't help Kira, just like breaking his forearm on the floor didn't.
Control. Like when he worked out. That was what he needed.
“Once the channel is open in a few days, we hope to receive intel from Ms. Rogers,” the High General said. “If she resists, seeing her daughter will encourage her. Especially if we use the footage of the tank.”
Bristling, Zayne caught his father's eyes. “We'll pretend the recording is a consequence of not sending information?”
“Yes. You're establishing trust with Kira, as is Adelle. There's no reason to hurt that budding relationship when we have a video to send to the mother.”
How much time did this buy Zayne? He nodded. “Smart plan.”
“We'll meet again after we establish contact.”
Once the meeting ended, Zayne left the room before anyone else and logged hours at the shooting range. A few days ago, a physician cleared him for light duty, removing him from injured reserve, and he welcomed the distraction of the dailymandatory training while awaiting reassignment. His father offered to exempt him due to this mission, but Zayne thought and planned best when moving.
That was what he needed to do more than anything right now. Plan.
But it was too bad he couldn’t use the excuse to skip the classes he’d soon enroll in to continue his officer’s training. No one would ever let him out of leadership courses. He’d spent his life in neverending preparation for High General when not at war.
Bypassing the simple targets, Zayne climbed the stairs to the second floor, where he chose an advanced training room. This one was a replica of a city block, one that looked like so many in the territories. Like Bluehaven.
Drawing his weapon in a war-torn street swept his mind back to the massacre, but it also forced his body into war, where instinct cut off everything except survival. No matter how dire a problem, it stopped existing when soldiers fired from all sides.
A buzz sounded, and he pivoted in a slow circle, scanning the perimeter for a target. Seconds passed in silence until the cut-out of a United soldier popped out of a window.
He aimed and fired, splintering the wooden head as the target withdrew back into the building.
Good.
The more targets he shot, the quieter his mind became, even if his mind came alive with snippets of memory.
A dozen times he replayed shooting the soldier closest to Kira right as Brock pushed her to the ground. It comforted him knowing she was safe, but that she spent a second beside the man Zayne killed haunted him.
Soon, Miya would make contact with Becka Rogers. She'd leave her with an inhaler for her asthma that hid a microphone and a location tracker. But Ashantae tampered with the device, working with Reinard to intercept the communication and relay it back to Ciondo on a two-minute delay. If Becka gave up the Follower's location, then Ashantae or Reinard would block it from transmitting. But the Phaedra would quickly lose patience when Becka didn't send information to him.
This was a disaster. There wasn't time for failure.
Rage flushed through his heart as he shot a target in the head three times before it disappeared.
