Page 255 of Entangled

There are teenagers here.

Perhaps two dozen of them litter the halls and rooms, all about fifteen or sixteen years old. They sit and walk together in small clusters, laughing and chattering carelessly. They must have only been ten or eleven when the strikes hit, and Bentley quietly explains that they’d been on an overnight field trip for their history class to visit the medieval society and the museum.

Most of them never saw their families again.

As Bentley walks around his “war room,” I find myself looking at him differently. Despite his air of ridiculousness, he stayed. He stayed and risked his life to keep a class full of terrified children safe from an apocalypse. For five years, he and his society have made their own history. I have to admire them for that.

Even if they do spend twenty minutes begging Dom to let them use a battering ram on the hospital’s front gates.

The room is bustling, with people coming in and out as they go to rest or refuel or pick up final supplies for our attack tonight. But in all the commotion, my eyes keep drifting to the lonely teenager standing still and silent by the darkened window. A slim shadow with curious eyes.

The table is layered with two dozen maps from different years. This city used to be a hub of rail activity, and for over two hundred years it’s been built up, layer by layer. The original street level is far below what is used today.

Bentley found several maps that indicated a way up inside the hospital grounds through those tunnels. Apparently, the runner he sent confirmed it—they’re useable.

The plan expanded from there.

The idea is to move in the middle of the night. The decoy group will create a diversion to spur the guards into raising an alert, drawing as many as possible away from the women and children and out into the street.

The rooftop group will be watching from above and will rain hell down on the exposed Sinners, and then the underground group will pour out of the ground and into the hospital to covertly infiltrate the Den, handle any remaining Sinners, and rescue the women and children.

For hours, they’ve argued over every detail, and night started its creep over the sky hours ago. It won’t be long until we leave, and nervousness is growing in me with every minute.

We’re actually doing it. We’re going to attack the Den, the Sinners’ base. We’re outnumbered, and likely outgunned, and the only edges we have are surprise and an experienced team of Rangers. I’m trying not to underestimate the value of that, but this rock of dread in my stomach refuses to budge.

Dom nods at something Jasper said. “We need a Ranger with each group on radio comms to direct the assault. I’ll take the underground group with our stealthiest—and as many women as we can. Heather, Ava, Sloane, Jennifer, and Eden, that’s you with me, and whoever else you have for me, Bentley. We don’t want to frighten these captive civs any more than we have to, and friendly faces won’t go astray. Beau, you’re on the roof with Red Zone, and Lucky, you’re running the decoy with Jasper and Aaron.”

“No, no,no.” Aaron’s frustration is palpable, and he punches his index finger against the map. “I should lead the decoy force. The Rangers should take the underground pass, Red Zone can take the rooftops, and I am the next most senior. I led our people when Thomas left. Give me some men and some of those explosives. I’ll run the decoy.”

“For fuck’s sake, Aaron, enough,” Heather snaps. She’s rubbing her forehead with an index finger, and she looks more exhausted than she should, given our comparatively easy day. “Tommy was never in charge, I was—and you sure as hell didn’ttake overanything. You wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t a crack shot.”

I bite my tongue, grimacing as Aaron’s face turns a mottled red.

Aaron has been an uncomfortable addition to our trip—largely because of his own irrepressible urge to talk down to everyone, and partially because Heather has had the temper of a wounded hyena.

Bentley whistles low, then holds up a map in front of his face. His warm-faced right-hand man beside him, Arthur, ducks behind it as well.

Lucky’s foot plays with mine under the table, like it has for the last twenty minutes, though he appears to remain studiously attentive to the group. I nudge him back, and his foot taps on the top of mine like a little spank.

And the shadow in the corner only tilts his head, watching and watching.

Aaron’s bruised ego flashes in his eyes, and he leans over the table toward Heather. “Why areyouhere, Madison? Your last mission into Cyanide was a fucking disaster. I can’t believe any of them want to follow you after you got Thomas killed.”

“Hey!” Sloane snaps at him, pushing up from her chair.

Faster than I can suck in a breath, Heather has thrown her dagger. It pierces the wood right in front of his crotch.

Aaron wheels back with a shout. “Fuckingbitch!”

“For fuck’s sake.” Dom points at Aaron, then at Heather. “Both of you, get out. Come back when you’ve cooled off. We don’t have time for this.”

Aaron gives him a dark, sullen glare and stalks out of the room, but Heather stands, breathing heavily, seeming lost in herself. Jasper watches her with a concerned crease to his brow that I recognize.

I stand, but before I can go over to her, she shakes herself. “I’ll take five, but you’re not benching me just because some twenty-two-year-old testosterone factory can’t see past his own unimpressive dick.”

Heather leaves a heavy tension in her wake. I debate following her, but I finally decide to give her some space. I know she won’t be satisfied until Alastair’s head is rolling between her feet.

“She’s right,” Ava says loyally, leaning against the wall. “Aaron keeps trying to push her buttons.”

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