Zayne and Ashantae hid in a service closet that shared a wall with Becka's room, waiting for Luke to enter her cell. Though Zayne was supposed to work with Brock to secure and protect a direct connection to the camera system, he slipped out to assist Ashantae.
They couldn't allow his brother to question Becka. Once he showed her footage of Kira in the tank and claimed it was live, the mother would likely break in order to save her from drowning.
Luke only had a five-minute window with her due to the patrol schedule at the base. So, Zayne needed to keep him occupied for that amount of time and make sure Becka didn't talk.
The most difficult part of this all would be making it to the rendezvous point on time with Brock as if he never left him, because he also planned to strike a deal with their chosen united officer—Major Tyndale.
Not a simple operation at all.
Ashantae looked at Zayne from beneath their dark mask. Though he couldn't see his friend's eyes, he felt the concern. This wasn't just dangerous. He faced off against his own brother and comrades.
Right on time, Luke's voice drifted from the room, something stifling a woman's scream.
“If you care about your daughter,” he said, tone menacing, “shut your mouth. Look at this. She's running out of oxygen.”
“Let her go.” Becka sobbed. “Please.”
Zayne clenched his body at the sound of Kira thrashing and drowning in the tank. Ashantae checked the hall and nodded for him. They slipped out of the closet for the door to Becka's room.
“How can you do that to her? How—”
“Shut up. I want locations.”
Ashantae pushed the door open and threw a knife at the closest soldier, piercing his throat. Stomach wrapped in knots, Zayne took out his target at the same time.
He knew these people by name. Knew their families. Most of them were ruthless soldiers who his brother hand-selected for their brutality and efficiency. But still, Zayne knew them. And he'd just ended the life of one.
It wasn't his first time killing a fellow soldier, not even his first time doing it for Kira, but each time hurt. Reminded him that fighting the Phaedra meant betraying someone. More names for his tree. But he couldn't think of that now. His brother and the remaining soldiers moved fast, too fast for him to get distracted by guilt.
They'd been ordered not to use their guns around Becka Rogers to ensure she didn't get caught in the crossfire, but these soldiers were lethal without any weapons. Especially Luke.
Becka threw herself into the corner of the room and pulled a chair over herself. “What about my daughter?”
Everyone ignored her. There wasn't time to answer.
Zayne ducked the slash of a knife and drove straight for his brother, knowing he'd be the most deadly.
With a blade in each hand, Luke kicked the nightstand at Zayne. He jumped and picked his knees up to clear the object, but figured Luke did it to limit his positions. So while in the air, Zayne threw his remaining blade for Luke's chest, forcing him to defend himself.
He landed in front of his brother and slammed his shoulder into the man's stomach.
While stumbling back, Luke managed a kick, and Zayne twisted to avoid it, coming too close to another soldier.
It forced him to drop to the ground, skidding across the carpet on his knees.
And it didn't put him in an ideal position as Luke swiped both blades for him.
Zayne rolled off his shoulder, narrowly avoiding a strike, and picked up the knife he'd thrown, aiming for his brother's side. The man was a good fighter and in too good a position not to block it, but it interrupted his offense.
Their blades caught against each other, metal scraping metal.
They grew up training together and sparring after graduation. Regardless of disagreements, Luke poured even more time than Father into teaching Zayne how to fight when he was young. That meant he knew Luke's combat style well, but the opposite was true, too. And Zayne made a concerted effort to disguise his movements as much as possible, slouching his shoulders, favoring his left fist over his right. Not easy to do while his brother tried to kill him.
But the familiarity of fighting Luke fooled Zayne's body into feeling like this was just another match, just two brothers in a rivalry who might hit too hard sometimes and pull their punches another. Brothers who danced around love and hate, around protecting and fighting.
Right now, Luke didn't know he faced off against Zayne. This wasn't a training session. It was life and death.
But if his brother did know it was him, how would that change things?
