Page 25 of Secrecy

Brok had stood before us, his scarred face grim as he’d addressed the assembled warriors. "I have a request from the Academy. A covert reconnaissance mission into Kronock territory."

The room had gone silent. Missions into Kronock space were essentially suicide runs, with a return rate hovering around thirty percent.

Then her face had appeared on the screen, stunning yet defiant even in a military identification photo, dark hair pulled back severely, eyes that seemed to look right through you. The bruises, dirt, and sunken cheeks hadn’t been present then, only flawless skin and the confidence of the untested.

"Earth pilot Sasha Bowman," Brok had continued. "Captured during the Kronock invasion of Earth. Sister to an Academy instructor. The Academy Master wants her location confirmed before mounting a rescue operation."

I'd stepped forward before I even realized what I was doing. "I volunteer.”

Brok had fixed me with a calculating stare. "This isn't a glory run, Lieutenant. You'll be alone, deep in enemy territory, with no backup crew.”

"Understood, Captain."

Later, as I'd prepared for the mission, Brok had cornered me in the armory. "Why this mission, Deklyn?"

I couldn't answer him, not truthfully. I didn't understand it myself. Something about her face, her eyes. I’d known in my gut she was meant to be mine. But I would never tell her that. Sasha wasn't the kind of female who wanted to be told anything, even if she wanted it herself.

"How big of a distraction are you planning?" Her voice snapped me back to the present, to the Kronock weapons room where we stood surrounded by enough firepower to start a small war.

I winked at her, slinging a rifle over my shoulder. "Enough to get the other female and escape while sending the enemy into chaos."

"Define 'chaos,'" she pressed, eyeing the thermal detonators I was attaching to my belt.

"The kind that makes them too busy putting out fires to worry about a few missing prisoners." I handed her a blade.

She hesitated, then took it, her fingers brushing mine in a touch that sent electricity racing up my arm. "And what if your brilliant plan gets us killed instead?"

"Then we die gloriously," I replied with a grin that didn't quite reach my eyes. The thought of Sasha dying, and of failing her after coming this far, made something inside me twist painfully.

"I've never been interested in a glorious death," she muttered. “I prefer the kind where I don't die at all."

"That's the spirit," I said, moving to the door and cracking it open to check the corridor. "Ready to raise some hell?"

She appeared at my shoulder, her body heat a subtle presence at my side. "I don't suppose there's any point in suggesting a less dangerous approach?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"You and I have very different definitions of 'fun,'" she replied, but there was a hint of excitement beneath the exasperation in her voice.

I handed her one of the detonators. "Set this for two minutes and place it at the junction of the far corridors. That'll draw their security forces.”

She took the device with surprising confidence. "And what will you be doing while I'm playing decoy?"

"Setting up a few surprises of my own. Don’t worry. I’ll catch up with you.”

"You're assuming a lot about my willingness to follow your orders," she said, but she was already checking the detonator's mechanism.

"I'm not ordering," I corrected her. "I'm suggesting. Forcefully."

That earned me the whisper of a smile that transformed her gaunt face. "How magnanimous of you."

"I'm a giver," I deadpanned, then grew serious. "Be careful. These lizards don't play nice."

"Neither do I," she replied, a dangerous glint in her eye that made my pulse quicken.

As she slipped out the door, moving with a stealth that reminded me she was no ordinary pilot, I found myself thinking that getting her out alive wasn't just about the mission anymore. It was about a future where I might have the chance to discover all the layers beneath that defiant exterior.

But first, we had to survive. And that meant giving the Kronock something they wouldn't soon forget.