"They think we're still inside," Rocco whispered. A tremendous explosion rocked the clearing, and flames erupted through the roof of the cabin.
Lark gasped. "They blew it up."
Rocco stared silently at the burning cabin. "My dad would've hated having to watch that."
Lark slipped her hand into his. "I'm sorry."
He squeezed her hand in his own. "We'll build another."
“Damn straight we will,” Dante growled.
“But first, we need to go get your sister,” Rocco insisted.
“And then, we rebuild the cabin—together,” Lark said.
They started walking towards town, keeping to the shadows of the forest. Saint Michael's Mission appeared just before sunset. The old stone buildings stood isolated against the mountains, surrounded by rusted fencing and towering pines. It looked abandoned.
Rocco studied it through binoculars. "There,” he said, pointing to the left side of the building. “Two guards.”
Dante grabbed the binoculars from him and took a look at the old mission. “There are four more guards over on the right back side of the building. And if I’m not mistaken, there’s a hidden snipers nest up on the ridge.” His expression hardened as he handed the binoculars back to Rocco.
"This place isn't abandoned,” Rocco breathed, taking a second look. “They're guarding something." Dante took the binoculars back from Rocco.
Lark looked toward the old chapel, and a strange feeling settled over her—hope and possibly fear. A figure appeared briefly in one of the second-floor windows. She was sure that it was a young woman—thin with dark hair. She looked frightened and disappeared almost instantly.
Dante inhaled sharply. "No."
Lark looked at him. "What?"
His voice cracked. "That was her in the window." He lowered the binoculars, his eyes glistening. "That was Sofia." For a long moment, no one spoke, and then Lark reached for his hand.
"We're getting her out." Dante looked from Lark to Rocco, and then back to the mission where his sister had spent years waiting for someone to find her.
His jaw tightened with determination. "No." His voice was calm and certain. "We're bringing everyone home. If Keller has hidden Sofia there all this time, then she’s probably not his only prisoner. We’re going to get them all out.”
Dante
The mission sat in the valley like a forgotten ghost. Rain clouds had rolled back in, cloaking the old stone buildings in gray shadows as the last of the daylight disappeared behind the mountains. Dante lowered the binoculars, and his hands were shaking—not from fear, but from hope.
He hadn't allowed himself to feel it in three years because hope got people killed. It made them careless, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. But he'd seen her, just for a second. She was thinner, and her hair was longer. There were shadows beneath her eyes that hadn't existed the last time he'd held her after she'd cried over a nightmare. But she'd been alive.
"Lark." He didn't realize he'd spoken until she touched his arm.
She looked up at him. "We'll get her,” she promised. He wanted to believe that. God, he wanted to. But he'd led enough missions for her father to know better than to promise success before the first shot was fired.
Instead, he nodded. "We're bringing her home."
Rocco spread a weathered map across a large boulder. “It looks like they are running two perimeter patrols." He markedtheir routes with a pencil. “There are four towers. I’m betting that they have cameras, motion sensors—the whole nine yards.”
Lark frowned. "This isn't just a prison,” she said.
"No." Rocco circled the largest building. "It's a processing site."
The words made Dante's stomach turn. "How many guards total?"
Rocco looked toward the compound again. "I counted at least eighteen guards." He paused. "But that's not what worries me."
"What does?" Dante asked.
