Page 39 of Unmade

“Hillcroft dispatch, state your operator number and name.”

“Three-four-nine-two-zero-six, this is Operator Beckett breaking protocol,” I said, running down the stairs. “We have all sixteen of our recruits at the Towers. Coach is staying behind to be my eyes on the ground, and I’m heading over there. I’ll need backup right away.”

“Responding. Stand by,” the guy replied.

Two junior operators joined me on the second floor, and we flew down the stairs toward the basement. At least, I assumed they were juniors. They were young, and it tended to be their job to secure Lincoln Towers. Once in the basement, we aimed for the martial arts studio at the far end, where we ran through an emergency exit that led to the garage in the next building over. Having no clue if Hillcroft was a target, we couldn’t very well walk out the main entrance.

Dispatch spoke again. “Operators Jones and Kelley are en route, leaving the dorms now.”

“Roger, out.” I ended the call and made a new one to Coach, and as I darted up to the ground-floor level of the garage, I inserted an earbud. I didn’t know who the junior operators in front of me were; I hadn’t gotten a good look at their faces, but I ran past them and ordered them to secure the perimeter around the left tower.

This area was dead at night, and as much as I wanted to sprint across the Circle and the park, I had to keep out of sight.

Coach said something in my ear, but there was too much background noise.

“Say again,” I demanded, out of breath.

“I say again, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you now.”

“Good. There’s activity on all our floors, but I’m gonna go back to five minutes before the alarm—fuck. Two minutes before the alarm, we have an intruder trying to enter your place.”

Leighton.

“Goddammit,” I growled. I rushed across the street and brought out my gun. “How many shots did the sensors pick up?”

“Four. The intruder gets in, Beckett—he went directly to your place. I’m scrolling forward again. We have operators entering. Come back immediately—that’s an order!”

Fuck that.

CHAPTER 4

August 8th, 2024

Leighton Watts

My eyes flashed open.

4:30.

No…no, this was something else. I practically felt my cortisol levels spike with a fight-or-flight urgency. I sat up in bed, remembering I was at Beckett’s place, and I squinted in the dark. No way; it wasn’t time to get up. My alarm hadn’t gone off.

I grabbed my phone, and it flashed to life.

3:04.

There it is again.I heard a noise. Someone was on the other side of the door.

I scrambled out of bed and crossed the living room. Wait, that couldn’t be Beckett, could it? Unless he was drunk off his ass and didn’t know how to work the key. I scrubbed a quick hand over my face and peered through the peephole. Black hoodie, white male—white-ish…?

Whoever it was had a hard time opening the door, and I instantly reeled back. He didn’t belong here. He was trying to break in. Fuck me. Something was wrong.

A rush of adrenaline bolted me into action, and I hurried back to the living room, where I dug out my gun case. The one from Hillcroft, not my personal gun. No time to get dressed. If this turned into a confrontation, it was going to happen in boxer briefs. Would I have time to grab my phone? The sleep alcove was in direct line of fire from the entryway, and I couldn’t risk it.

I attached the mag to my gun and dropped low behind the kitchen bar, and I sucked in a breath. Was this part of training? It fucking couldn’t be. They knew some of us carried weapons. A few of us had been cleared early on.

The moment the door opened, a cold chill descended over me, and it felt like all my senses sharpened in the darkness. The man spoke in a hushed tone, and I identified it as German—with an accent. He had to be on the phone or something.

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