Chapter 125
Elara's POV
I stepped out of Old Tom's cabin. The cold air hit my face. Sharp. Clean. Nothing like the stale smoke inside.
Behind me, I heard a choked sound.
I turned. Sam had dropped to his knees in the dirt. His thin shoulders shook. His hands covered his face.
"It's all my fault..." His voice cracked. Broke. "I should've protected her. I should've..."
He couldn't finish. Just sobbed into his palms like the world had ended.
Maybe for him, it had.
I stood there. Watched him fall apart. Felt something twist in my chest.
This kid. Twelve years old. Carrying guilt that would crush most adults.
I crouched down next to him. Put my hand on his shoulder. He flinched but didn't pull away.
"Sam." My voice came out steady. Calm. "Look at me."
He lifted his head. Tears streaked through the dirt on his face. His eyes were red. Desperate.
"Tell me what your sister looks like," I said. "Everything you remember. Hair color. Height. Any scars or marks."
He blinked. Confused. "Why—"
"Because if she's still alive, I'm going to bring her back to you."
The words hung in the cold air between us.
Sam stared at me. His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"You... you really mean that?"
"I don't say things I don't mean."
Something shifted in his expression. Hope. Fragile. Terrified. But there.
He wiped his face with his sleeve. Started talking. Fast. Like if he stopped, he'd lose his nerve.
"Her name's Maya. She's ten. Short for her age. Black hair, always in two braids. She has a scar on her left knee from falling off her bike last year. And she... she has this laugh. Really loud. You can hear it from across the street."
His voice broke again on the last part.
I memorized every detail. Locked it away.
"Good," I said. "Now listen carefully. You need to go home. Wait there. Don't follow me. Don't try to help. Just wait."
"But—"
"Sam." I made my voice hard. Final. "If something goes wrong and you're there, I'll have to protect you instead of finding your sister. You understand?"
He hesitated. Then nodded slowly.
"Okay. I'll wait."
I stood up. So did he. He looked at me one more time. Like he was trying to memorize my face too.
Then he turned and ran. Disappeared into the maze of broken-down houses.
I watched until I couldn't see him anymore.
---
I found Cole exactly where he said he'd be. Twenty meters into the tree line. Invisible unless you knew what to look for.
He stepped out from behind a pine tree. Handed me a small earpiece without a word.
I fitted it into my ear. His voice came through. Clear. Professional.
"I heard everything."
Of course he had. Cole didn't miss anything.
"The sawmill," I said. "What do we know?"
He pulled out a folded paper from his jacket. Spread it on a flat rock. A hand-drawn map. Detailed. Precise.
"My contact did a sweep two hours ago." He pointed to the building layout. "Main structure here. Three stories. Mostly collapsed on the east side. They're using the west wing."
His finger traced the perimeter. "Back side faces the river. Both flanks have thick forest cover. Only one access road from the front. Narrow. Easy to watch."
"Guards?"
"At least fifteen. Maybe more inside." He tapped different points on the map. "Patrols every twenty minutes. Two-man teams. Armed."
I studied the layout. Calculated angles. Entry points. Escape routes.
"What about weapons?"
Cole reached into his pack. Pulled out two handguns. A set of flash grenades. Spare magazines.
I picked up one of the guns. Checked the weight. The balance. Quality hardware.
"Where'd you get these?"
"Old contacts." His expression didn't change. "Untraceable."
I didn't ask more questions. Didn't need to.
"So what's the plan?" Cole asked.
I looked at the map again. "Going in loud is suicide. Too many of them. Too few of us."
"Agreed."
"I go in. Scout the interior. Find out where they're keeping prisoners." I traced a path with my finger. "You stay outside. Create a distraction if things go wrong."
Cole's jaw tightened. "You're going in alone."
"I'm smaller. Faster. Less likely to be noticed." I met his eyes. "And if they catch me, you're the backup plan."
He didn't like it. I could see that. But he nodded.
"If you're not out in thirty minutes, I'm coming in."
"Fair enough."
---
We drove to the sawmill in silence. Cole's truck ate up the miles. The sun dropped lower. Painted the sky orange and red.
By the time we reached the outer perimeter, dusk had settled in. Perfect timing.
Cole parked the truck a quarter mile out. Hidden in a cluster of trees.
We got out. I changed quickly. Black tactical pants. Dark long-sleeve shirt. Boots with good grip. Pulled my hair back tight.
Cole handed me a knife. Small. Sharp. I strapped it to my thigh.
"Comms check," he said.
I tapped the earpiece. "Hearing you."
"Good." He pulled out binoculars. Scanned the building. "Five guards visible. Two at the main entrance. Three on patrol."
I followed his gaze. The sawmill loomed ahead. Skeletal. Broken windows like empty eye sockets. But light glowed on the second floor.
Someone was definitely inside.
A black van sat near the back entrance. Engine off. No one around it.
"That van," I said. "They use it for transport?"
"Probably." Cole lowered the binoculars. "Guard shift change is at eight. That's your window."
I checked my watch. Seven forty-five.
Fifteen minutes.
I took a slow breath. Let it out. Felt my heartbeat steady. My mind clear.
This was it.
"Ready?" Cole asked.
I nodded.
He touched my shoulder. Brief. Firm. "Don't die."
"Wasn't planning on it."
I moved into the shadows. Started my approach.
---
The fence was old. Rusted. Easy to find the gap.
I slipped through. Stayed low. Moved along the tree line on the north flank until I reached the building's blind spot near the river side.
Eight o'clock. Right on schedule, I heard voices. Footsteps. The guards changing positions.
I counted to ten. Then moved.
The side door was ajar. I pushed it open slowly. Inch by inch. No creaking. Good.
Inside, the air smelled like rot and machine oil. Broken equipment everywhere. Rusted saw blades. Collapsed scaffolding.
I picked my way through carefully. Each step deliberate. Silent.
Stairs. Metal. Leading up.
I tested the first step. Solid enough. Started climbing.
The voices got louder as I reached the second floor. Rough. Male. Laughing about something.
A hallway stretched ahead. Dim. Narrow. Doors on both sides.
At the far end, a heavy metal door. Closed. Locked.
I moved closer. Pressed my ear against it.
Breathing. Soft. Scared.
Someone crying.
My pulse spiked.
Lynette?
I reached for the lock. Started examining it. Simple mechanism. I could pick it in under a minute if—
"Looking for something, little mouse?"
Ice flooded my veins.
I spun around.
A man stood at the top of the stairs. Scarred face. One eye milky white. The other fixed on me with cold amusement.
My hand went to the knife at my thigh.
He smiled. Slow. Predatory.
"Don't bother." He tilted his head. "This place is already surrounded. We knew someone was watching us."
No.
My mind raced. Cole. Had they found him?
The scarred man took a step forward. I took a step back.
Then I heard them. Footsteps. From both ends of the hallway.
Four. No. Five men. Emerged from the shadows.
Blocked every exit.
The scarred man's smile widened.
"Looks like we caught ourselves a second little mouse."