Chapter 24 24
A young woman named Emily. "Five different containment areas, each with its own locking system. The wards prevent most shapeshifters from shifting to break out, so even a subject who wanted to escape couldn't without outside help."
I thought about the night Charles had been held in Xiang's facility. About how even with all my strength, I'd been trapped.
"We'll split into three teams," Alex said, his tactical mind already working. "Dave leads Team One through the main gate, that's our visible assault, meant to draw security attention. Team Two, led by me, goes through the secondary tunnel system to reach the subject containment areas. Team Three, with Mia, handles extraction and medical support."
"Mia shouldn't be in active combat," I said, knowing what he was thinking.
Everyone looked at me.
"I'm not putting you in danger," I finished. "I'm saying that my abilities make me more useful in the extraction phase. I can help transport the more severely injured subjects. I can protect people who can't protect themselves. You need me in a support role, not on the front lines."
Alex wanted to argue, I could see it in his expression. But he was also smart enough to know I was right.
"Fine," he said. "You're with Team Three. But you're not leaving the facility without me. Understood?"
"Understood," I agreed, though we both knew that was a promise neither of us could guarantee under combat conditions.
Over the next two weeks, we trained constantly. Physical conditioning to prepare for the strain of the operation. Combat simulations with the resistance fighters. Medical training so I could triage the subjects when we brought them out.
The subjects themselves haunted me. Lucy had obtained mugshots and brief bios from the facility's internal records. A twenty-year-old wolf named David who'd been taken at sixteen. A water sprite named Coral who'd been missing for four years. A young man named Thomas whose species wasn't even documented—something between human and something else, the records said.
These weren't statistics. These were people with names and histories and families who'd been looking for them.
At night, Alex and I would lie awake, his arms around me.
"We're going to save them," he'd whisper like a prayer.
"We're going to try," I'd correct, unable to promise more than that.
One week before the planned raid, we got unexpected help.
Charles arrived at the safe house with a team of ten other survivors from Xiang's facility. They'd trained together since their rescue, rebuilding strength and confidence. Now they wanted to fight.
"You don't owe us anything," I said when Charles approached me privately. "This isn't your battle."
"It is," he said firmly. "I spent two years in those facilities. I watched people break. I helped some of them when I could, looked the other way when I couldn't. I'm done looking the other way."
"The danger—"
"I know the danger," he interrupted. "I know exactly what I'm walking into. But I also know what happens if we don't act. More facilities open. More people get taken. The network grows. I'm not letting that happen if I can stop it."
I hugged him, surprising both of us. He hugged back, and for a moment, we were just two broken people trying to do the right thing.
"Your sister—" I started.
"Insisted I came," Charles said. "She told me if I didn't fight for others like her, she'd never forgive me."
Three days before the raid, Dr. Mitchell released another video. This one was different—darker, more threatening.
"To those planning to interfere with my research," she said coldly, "I say this: you will fail. My facilities are better protected than you can imagine. My network extends further than you understand. And when you do attempt your rescue mission, and I know you will—we'll be waiting.
She knew. Somehow, she knew we were planning something.
"She has moles in our organization," Dave said, his expression grim. "Or in one of the allied groups. Either way, security is compromised."
"Do we abort?" I asked.
"No," Alex said immediately. "If anything, this makes it more important. If they're expecting us, they'll have prepared. But they'll also be focused on defense instead of offense. That gives us an advantage."
"How does that logic work?" I demanded.
"It means they'll be waiting for an attack but won't know exactly when or how," he explained. "They'll be stretched thin covering defensive positions. And if we hit them hard and fast, we can overwhelm their preparations before they can adapt."
It made sense tactically. It also made me want to vomit.
The night before the raid, I couldn't sleep at all.
I stood on the safe house balcony, looking out at the Romanian mountains, and thought about all the possible ways this could go wrong.
Alex joined me in the early hours of morning, two cups of coffee in his hands.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked.
"Constant thoughts," I said. "Fearful thoughts. Thoughts about how many people could die because of this."
"Thoughts about how many people will definitely suffer if we don't do this," he countered.
"That too," I admitted.
He set the coffee down and pulled me close. "I'm terrified too. I won't pretend otherwise. But I'm also proud of you. Of us. For choosing to fight instead of hiding."
"If something happens tomorrow—" I started.
"Nothing's going to happen," he interrupted.
"You can't promise that."
"No," he agreed. "But I can promise that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, and to make sure we get those people out. I can't promise success. But I can promise you my effort. I can promise you everything I have."
"That's enough," I said, and I meant it.
We made love as the sun rose, gentle and desperate, each of us trying to memorize the other in case tomorrow didn't come. When it was over, we held each other in silence, drawing strength from the connection.
By noon, everyone was in position.
Team One, Dave's assault unit was staged at the main gate, ready to move on signal. Team Two was hidden near the secondary tunnel entrance, waiting for the chaos to begin. Team Three, my group was in the village, ready to activate the medical stations we'd prepared for injured subjects.
I was in a small cottage with Emily and three other support personnel, checking and rechecking medical supplies we might not need but prayed we wouldn't.
At 21:00 hours, my phone buzzed with a single message from Alex: Starting now.
I watched the monitors Emily had hacked into the facility's security feed. The main gate suddenly lit up as Dave's team opened fire on the guard stations. The security alarm wailed through the facility's speakers.
It was beginning.
"Team One engaging," Emily reported, her eyes on the feed. "Security responding. Gate breached."
I saw the guards scatter, heard the gunfire even through the monitors. It looked like chaos, but Dave's team moved with precision, taking down opposition with minimal collateral damage.
"Team Two entering the secondary tunnel," Emily continued. "No opposition yet."
My heart hammered in my chest.
Alex was inside now. Moving through the tunnels, approaching the containment areas.