Page 6 of Dark Rebel's Mystery

Syssi shook her head. "It was hard to tell. Her face was always covered with a scarf, and she wore loose clothing."

"Jasmine is going to speak with her father soon," Kian said. "I know that she wants to take Ell-rom with her, but neither of them can thrall, so a Guardian will need to accompany them. Once he gets into Jasmine's father's memories of Kyra, we might learn more."

"Which Guardian are you planning to send?"

"I haven't decided yet. Why?"

She shrugged. "Max should go with them."

Kian arched a brow. "Why Max? He doesn't even like Jasmine. When Amanda tried to play matchmaker between him and Jasmine on the cruise, he made it clear that he wasn't interested. Jasmine reminds him of someone from his past he has bad residual feelings about. Also, I'm quite sure that Jasmine wouldn't be happy about him accompanying her either."

Syssi knew the general gist of that story, but her gut told her that Max was the right guy for the job, even though she couldn't explain why. "Maybe it's time he got over it. He needs to move past his prejudice, and spending time with Jasmine would show him how different she is from that woman who wronged him."

"I still don't think he's a good choice for this little mission," Kian said. "Then again, he has seniority, and I need someone capable to watch over Ell-rom."

"Maybe that's exactly why Max needs to go." Syssi pressed her face against Kian's chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "I trust the Fates, and they are telling me that Max is the right choice.What's the worst that can happen if I'm wrong? Max getting over his phobia of curvy, gorgeous brunettes?"

Kian laughed. "Well, when you put it like that, there is really no good reason for him to decline the mission."

3

KYRA

As the first rays of dawn filtered through the canvas of Kyra's tent, she looked over the medical inventory list, her eyes cataloging the supplies they'd pilfered during last night's mission. Regrettably, antibiotics hadn't been part of the loot.

Six prisoners had been rescued, three of them with old wounds that appeared to be infected, and they didn't have the right stuff to treat them.

They had driven hard all night to get away from their pursuers, taking them on a wild chase until losing them in the mountains. The truth was that the pursuit had been half-hearted, and she was worried that they had been allowed to take the prisoners on purpose, and one or more of them had a tracker and would lead the guards to them.

Sitting beside her, Soran leaned over and tapped his pen on the list. "We'll need to trade for antibiotics."

"I have a contact in Erbid, but we can't risk sending anyone right now. I also think that we should move the prisoners out as soon as possible. This extraction was too easy."

Soran laughed. "It might have seemed easy to you, but there was nothing easy about it." He pushed to his feet. "I'll get us coffee."

"Thank you." Kyra smiled at him. "You're a lifesaver."

Shortly after he'd left, the tent's entrance rustled and Zara ducked inside. "The wounded have been tended to," she reported. "Hamid treated them as best he could with what we have, but we'll need the supplies to avoid complications. Or we can drive them a few hundred miles away from here and get them to a proper doctor."

"We can't drive them anywhere for at least a week." Kyra's hand unconsciously moved to the amber pendant at her throat, a nervous habit she was trying to overcome.

In moments of frustration, the stone provided comfort—in others, it guided her toward whoever and whatever she was seeking.

Perhaps this time, it could guide her to a stash of antibiotics her team could steal.

They needed so many things, and everything was so hard to come by. The lives of rebels were not easy, but what choice did they have?

To live under oppression was no life at all, and for women, sometimes death was preferable to the suffering they were made to endure under a regime that regarded them as less than human and took sadistic pleasure in trampling them under its filthy feet.

It wasn't only women, though. The men who stood by them and dared to voice opposition often found themselves at the end of a noose in the city square.

With a sigh, Kyra leaned in her chair and looked through the tent's open flap. The camp was coming to life, and she found solace in the sounds of conversations and laughter. Her people were comprised of rebels and rescued prisoners—political activists who had spoken out against the oppression. Some of them had been too traumatized to speak in the first days after their arrival, their eyes haunted by recent terrors, but soon hope rekindled in their hearts, and to hear them laughing and talking freely was the best reward she could hope for.

"Coffee?" Soran entered with a cup.

She took the cup and inhaled the brew. "You are my favorite guy in the world right now."

He chuckled nervously before turning around and walking out of the tent.

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