Page 44 of Ronan

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable, as I consider the question. “I won’t pretend to know everything that’s going on. Elas and I both hold high ranks, but we are largely in charge of security or reconnaissance. There aren’t a whole lot of strategic meetings needed, and our orders are pretty cut and dry.”

“Orders straight from Bravis?”

“Yeah,” I drawl, stretching the word out as I try to remember the last time my orders came from anywhere other than his desk. It’s been decades, and I hadn’t paid enough attention to realize his one-man show was governing my every move.

“What about when you first came over?” Cameron asks. “What was your role then?”

“Infantry,” I say, glancing to see if there’s any judgment on his face. Instead, there’s only curiosity. “Our objective was to come across and secure the cities. That was about as much direction as we received as soldiers.”

“Right, but now they hold the cities and control the military and government, so what could they possibly be planning next? I’ve seen convoys in the wastelands over the years… sometimes big ones, with an entire fleet of vehicles. What are they doing out there?”

My mind spins, thinking about the missions I’ve been sent on over the decades, most with the intention to scout or track down hidden villages. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds, and for what purpose? I was always a good little soldier and never questioned my orders, but now that he’s asking the question, I don’t have a good answer.

What the hell are they searching for?

Landscapes change under the black of night. Once familiar roads twist and turn in unfamiliar ways, disorienting as you try to navigate in the darkness. Cameron has three near-meltdowns as we alter our course, but despite his frustration—and his escalating temper—we make it to our destination.

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time the wooden fence of the settlement appears in the distance, shimmering in the heat haze that burns off the baked soil. I was hoping we’d arrive under the cover of night, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. Cameron’s relief at seeing the camp is a tangible thing, the tension in the van dissipating as his legs fidget with a restless energy.

“We need to be cautious and make sure others haven’t moved in since you were last here.”

He nods, his nervous ticks spreading as he drums his finger on his leg. “If I remember correctly, there’s adense thicket of trees nearby. We can park there and walk over to investigate.”

“No matter where we park, our vehicle will be visible to anyone watching from inside,” I point out, and he worries at his lip.

“Yeah, true,” he mumbles, “but it’ll make me more comfortable than just driving up to the front gate and honking.” It only takes one pleading glance from those sky-blue eyes for me to relent. Cameron is thrilled at his power of persuasion over me, but I blame it on exhaustion.

Shadows offer a welcome relief from the sun as we pull into the trees, both of us groaning as we step out and stretch. My injuries are pounding, muscles stiff with sitting all day, and I feel like I could sleep for an entire week.

Cameron passes me some nuts and dried fruit, and we snack while Boomerang stretches her legs and circles the trees.

The expanse of land between the trees and the camp offers no cover, so I take Cameron’s hand in mine and force myself in front of him. He mutters something under his breath, but obediently stays behind me as I scan along the walls and through the gaps in the wooden planks.

I see nothing, but that doesn’t rule out someone’s presence.

A chain winds around the gate, unlocked but secured with a gap large enough to squeeze through. The quiet roars in my ears as I strain to listen for signs of movement. Trees line the path that splits the camp, leaves rustling as a warm breeze blows.

Rows of dilapidated tents border the perimeter near the fence, their canvas ripped and flapping in the wind like tattered flags. Closer to the center, wooden houses are inbetter condition, with most of the windows and roofs intact. A few larger buildings might’ve been shops at some point, and a garage sits tucked away from the main road.

It’s eerily quiet but supports Cameron’s assessment that the camp has been deserted for a long time.

We spend hours searching every building, and by the time we’re satisfied that we’re alone, I’m barely able to stay on my feet. Dirt and grime cover our skin, sweat cutting tracks through the dusty film as we stand under the scorching rays of the sun.

Feet heavy, I stumble against the side of a building and lean against it to rest, allowing my eyes to close as Cameron’s hand finds my arm. “Are you okay?”

“Just tired.” It takes effort to open my eyes again, and I try to smile. Based on his skeptical expression, it’s more of a grimace and less reassuring than I’d hoped.

“You’re exhausted, Ronan. Come on, let’s get the van pulled in so you can sleep.” He gestures at the garage, and I frown.

We need the supplies, but having the vehicle hidden outside the walls could be helpful in the event of an attack. “It’s safer in the trees. We can bring it in and unload, but it needs to go back into the woods.”

Cameron frowns, an obvious argument brewing as he shakes his head. “You’re just asking for it to be stolen.”

“I wouldn’t leave the keys inside.”

“Any thief worth his weight knows how to hotwire a vehicle.”

“Do you?” I ask, raising my brow.

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