Page 96 of Their Mate
They all looked to the woman, and she only nodded once, as if that was introduction enough. She didn’t give me her name, didn’t even hint at one. Just folded her arms and looked up at the cliffs as though she was considering leaping off the boat and scaling them all on her own right then.
“So,” I said, planting my hands on my hips. “We’ve got the Watch sitting fat in their cave, and if your intel’s right, a sea full of lycans heading straight for us. Tell me, mystery lass, do you have a plan?”
Her eyes flicked back to me, dark and cool. “First, we get your pack out. Second, we hold this island until there’s nothing left to hold.”
Griff cracked his knuckles, smiling. Bishop’s mouth twitched in disapproval. Nox’s grin was chilling, and Eamon just adjusted his bag like he was already tallying up the damage.
“Sounds like a proper morning. Right then,” I said, hitching my rifle higher on my shoulder. “You’ve come all this way, mystery lass, so let’s hear it. What clever ideas do you have for breaking into a steel hole in solid rock full of people who hate our guts?”
She crouched, tugging a waterproof map from her coat, slapping it down on a crate. Pencil lines marked the headland in neat, clean strokes.
“The Watch have three obvious access points,” she explained. “Front cave entrance, old service tunnel here, and the vent shafts further inland. The cave is a kill zone. The service tunnel is sealed, but could be breached. The vents…” she tapped the paper, “…are our best chance.”
Bishop knelt beside her, arms folded, mouth pulled into a thin line. “They’ll have every corridor stacked with firepower. No way through without a body count.”
“Aye,” I said, crouching opposite him, tracing the vent lines with a gloved finger. “But these vents cut into maintenance corridors, aye? Nothing to worry about there. Just ducts, catwalks, and some poor sod who forgot to oil all the hinges since 1945.”
Nox’s grin widened. “Quiet in. Loud out.”
Griff chuckled, big and easy. “Loud’s my favorite part.”
Eamon crouched near the map too. “If the lycans arrive while you’re still inside?—”
“Theywillarrive,” the woman cut in, eyes flicking to me. “Hundreds, by water, and if the Elder Lycan leads them himself, this island won’t hold.”
I blew out a breath, raking a hand through my hair. “So we’re fighting them off with six people and a prayer. Brilliant. No wonder you needed me.”
Eamon glanced toward the cliffs. “Did you tell him that the Brits are coming too?”
“On their way,” the woman said.
Silence fell, heavy and bitter.
Finally, I clapped my hands together. “Well, that paints a cheery picture. So, here’s what I say: we wriggle into the Watch’s bowels together, and we find Sera and the others, then we get the fuck off this island before all hell breaks loose.”
Griff grinned like I’d just told him he’d won the lottery. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
Bishop gave me a long look, then nodded once. “Strength in cohesion. Divide, and the Watch will crush us piecemeal.”
Nox twirled one of his knives, catching the light. “All together then.”
Eamon gave a small, exasperated huff, adjusting the strap on his medic’s bag again. “Better for me, anyway. Easier to patch you idiots if I don’t have to chase you down in different corners of the island.”
The woman’s pale blue eyes found mine. “And if the British arrive while we’re inside?”
I bared my teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Then we’ll greet them the same way we greet the Watch—with the pointy end first.”
Her mouth twitched, almost approving. “You don’t lack confidence.”
“Confidence?” I grinned. “No, lass. I just lack options.”
Bishop rolled the map tight, tucking it back into his coat. “One team. One strike. Maximum force at the point of contact. We make it count, or we don’t make it at all.”
Griff cracked his knuckles again, the sound like snapping branches. “Good. I would have hated missing out on the fun.”
The woman straightened, cloak whipping in the sea breeze. “We’re out of time,” she said simply. “We do this together now.”
I looked up at the cliffs, the black mouth of the cave yawning like it was laughing. My pack was in there, shackled and strung up like meat. The sea was crawling with lycans, the bloody British were on their way, and Zara’s pack was somewhere out there in the fray too.
