Page 25 of Wilde and Untamed
“Interesting is one word for it,” Mia muttered, clutching her stomach.
They crested a low ridge, and suddenly the station was spread out below them in all its modest glory. Thwaites Research Station consisted of seven main buildings connected by covered walkways, with several smaller outbuildings scattered around the perimeter. Solar panels glinted on every roof, and the communication towers rose like metal trees against the white landscape.
It looked exactly like what it was—a small outpost of human civilization clinging to existence in one of the most hostile environments on Earth.
And for the next three weeks, it would be home.
“There she is,” Rue announced, feeling a familiar surge of satisfaction at successfully delivering her charges to their destination. “Welcome to Thwaites Station.”
The radio crackled again. “Cat One, this is Station Control,” said a man with a South African accent. “We have you on approach. Bay doors are opening.”
Rue frowned. She hadn’t expected anyone to be at the station. According to the mission briefing, they were supposed to be the only research team in residence.
“Station Control, this is Expedition Leader Bristow. Who is this?”
A pause. Then: “We’re what’s left of the summer crew. Just three of us now. Don’t worry, we’ll make space.”
Something cold that had nothing to do with the Antarctic wind settled in Rue’s stomach. No summer team had been mentioned in any of the briefings. This was exactly the kind of surprise she hated—the kind that could get people killed.
She grabbed the radio again. “I wasn’t informed of any?—”
“Just follow the guide lights to the garage bay,” the voice interrupted smoothly. “We’ll have you sorted in no time.”
Through the windshield, Rue could see a figure in arctic gear standing near the main building, waving them toward a large bay door that was sliding open. The person was too bundled up to make out any details, but their posture was relaxed, welcoming.
Everything looked normal. Safe.
So why did every instinct she possessed suddenly scream danger?
nine
As their snowcatrumbled across the ice behind Rue’s, Elliot fixated on the bundled figure signaling them forward with two glowing orange wands, and a bad feeling knotted his gut. This wasn’t part of the brief. No summer crew had been mentioned in any of the expedition documents he’d reviewed, and he’d reviewed them all twice—because that’s what he did. He planned. He anticipated. He eliminated surprises before they had a chance to kill his people.
And yet here was a surprise, standing in the middle of the ice, waving them in.
His gaze slid to the back of Dr. Noah Braddock’s head. The geologist hadn’t reacted at all to the unexpected welcome committee. Almost like he’d been expecting this.
What the fuck was really going on here?
Elliot’s mind ticked through the worst-case scenarios, all possible moves and countermoves unfolding like a chess game in his head. Every instinct he had clanged with warning.
When their snowcat lurched into the cavernous bay of Thwaites Station, he cataloged the space automatically: three exits besides the main door, shelving units that could providecover, tools that could be repurposed as weapons, cameras—too many cameras for a station this size. Surveillance meant secrets. Secrets meant danger.
He felt the prickle along the back of his neck as the bay door clanged shut. Trapped. Contained. His instincts screamed to abort, to turn Rue around before it was too late. But she was already climbing down from the first snowcat, every line of her body radiating confidence.
But he knew her better than he knew just about anyone, and under all that bravado was tension. She knew something was wrong, too.
“Everyone out.” Noah’s voice was clipped as he killed the engine.
Elliot was first out of the vehicle, positioning himself between Rue and the three strangers who approached from the far side of the bay. Two men and a woman—all wearing thick parkas with no visible insignia or identification. Curious.
“Welcome to Thwaites,” the taller man said, his voice matching the South African accent they’d heard over the radio. He set aside the signal wands and pulled down his face covering, revealing dark skin, dark eyes, and a thick, wiry beard peppered with gray. “Jacobus Khoza. Everyone calls me Koos. I handle operations, and if you break something, I’m the guy to fix it. So don’t break anything.”
The second man stepped forward. Thin and gaunt with permanent shadows under his eyes as if he never slept, he looked almost vampiric. “Dr. Emerson Moretti. Hydrologist.” His voice was as dry and brittle as old paper.
The woman beside him made no move to approach and instead crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Her short hair was dyed a dark green that stood out starkly against the muted colors of the station. “Jess Temple. Comms,” she said flatly. “If you need to talk to the outside world, I’m your girl.”
Dr. Moretti cleared his throat. “I’m assuming you’re Ms. Bristow?” he addressed Rue, ignoring Elliot completely.
