Page 72 of Sacrifice

“Extraction point in sight,” Luka murmurs, and I nod. Up ahead, the night sky waits, an open canvas ready to be painted with the fire of our retribution.

“Commence phase two,” I whisper into the comm, knowing Inari and her Bluestockings are listening.

As we slip out the back entrance, the ground beneath us trembles, a prelude to the destruction we’re about to unleash. The air grows thick with anticipation, electric with the promise of freedom.

“Vance, you’re with me,” I call out, not missing the steel edge in my own voice. I need him close, need to see the realization dawn in those eyes when he understands what’s coming. Through the corner of my eye, I spot Isla and her crew closing in, silent as the desert night.

“Gotcha,” she whispers, almost tenderly, as she and her Bluestockings swoop in. Vance doesn’t even see it coming—doesn’t see the betrayal that’s been hiding in plain sight.

The rough fabric of the black bag slips over Vance’s head with a rustle, and I can’t help the smirk that tugs at my lips. He struggles against Isla’s grip, but it’s half-hearted—he knows he’s done for. In one smooth motion, we haul him up and shove him into the waiting vehicle.

“What the…what the fuck is going on?” Vance shouts. He’s pinned by at least a dozen women, a tranquilizer already working its way through his system courtesy of the needle in his neck. “Let me out of here.”

“I’m sorry, Vance—but you were too dangerous,” I say quietly.

“Gunnar?” he snarls. “What the fuck. What the…you’re making a huge mistake.”

“You forced me to do this.”

“Fuck you, Gunnar,” Vance hisses through the small opening before Oberon slides the panel closed. “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

“Get in line,” I retort, my voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

We turn our backs on Vance and dash back inside. Rook and the Bluestockings have all the prisoners gathered; they’re shaky, disoriented, but alive. That’s what matters. We didn’t come here just to settle scores—we came to save lives.

“Move! Move!” I bark out orders like a drill sergeant, pushing everyone forward. The dull echo of the countdown from the charges reverberates through the facility’s walls, syncing with my heartbeat.

“Four minutes,” Luka says, his voice calm but carrying the weight of urgency. We’re cutting it close – too close for comfort.

“Keep it tight,” I shout over my shoulder as we herd the freed prisoners towards the exit. They stumble and clutch at each other, their whispers sharp with fear. Some are still wearing the tattered remains of lab gowns, their skin marked by bruises and worse.

“Three minutes,” Luka updates. His hand finds the small of my back, a silent reassurance that we’re almost out. I don’t need to look to know his face is set in grim determination, the same look he had when he plunged his knife into Malik’s chest.

“Two minutes.” The words hang heavy in the air as we reach the final stretch, the cold night beckoning us to safety.

“Nearly there,” I encourage the group, my voice strained but hopeful. The outside world greets us with a blast of chilly desert air, the stars overhead indifferent to the chaos below.

“Go, go, go!” Oberon urges from the open doors of the remaining vehicles. Everyone piles in, no order, just bodies desperate for escape.

“Sixty seconds,” Luka warns, his eyes scanning the horizon. We’re all accounted for, every soul precious cargo as we speed away from the Mojave Lab.

“Drive!” I command, and the engines roar to life, propelling us into the abyss of the desert night. With every passing second, the knot in my stomach tightens, the taste of victory bittersweet on my tongue. We’re not just fighting against time; we’re battling ghosts, memories that will haunt us long after this night is over.

“Thirty seconds,” I whisper to myself, glancing at the rearview mirror. The looming silhouette of the facility is barely visible now, a dark blot against the landscape.

“Ten,” Luka counts down, his hand gripping mine with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt. We’re in this together, forged by fire and fury, bonded by a mission that’s bigger than any of us.

“Five,” I hear someone say, and then—

“Clear,” Oberon confirms, and a collective breath is released, one we’ve been holding for too damn long.

Ahead of us lies Pacific City, its skyline a jagged promise of challenges yet to come.

But tonight, we won, and that’s enough. For now.

Chapter thirty-one

Aisling

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