Page 51 of Faron
My pulse kicked up. This was happening. We were going. And Faron—my stubborn, beautiful, reckless Faron—wasn’t going to be left behind.
River spread a worn map across the table. “We got a GPS ping. Only lasted twelve seconds. Came from thirty clicks out from the Pakistan border.”
“Could be a glitch,” Tag muttered. “Could be everything.”
“What’s the terrain?” I asked.
“Dust. Rocks. Hills. A couple of abandoned villages. No good cover.”
“Sounds like home,” I said.
River looked at me, his voice lower now. “You sure you’re ready?”
I didn’t blink. “I was born ready.”
47
Faron
The lights flickered.
Once. Twice.
Kash and I locked eyes.
“That’s new,” he muttered, rolling his shoulder like it still hurt to move. We’d been down too long. Starving too long.
The hallway buzzed with radio static… and then—silence. Thick. Wrong.
Cyclone stood slowly, tense as a drawn bowstring. “Something’s happening.”
Even Grayson stirred in the corner, one eye still swollen shut. “You think it’s her?”
“Leila?” I asked.
Cyclone gave a tight nod. “She said, ‘When the lights go out.’”
So we waited.
Five minutes. Ten. My heart thudded so loud it felt like it might give us away.
Then—
BOOM.
The wall behind us shuddered. Dust rained from the ceiling. Another explosion ripped through the corridor—closer.A scream echoed. Then another. Alarms shrieked, shorted, and fell silent.
“Move!” Kash barked, slamming his weight against the bars.
They held—until footsteps thundered down the hall.
One guard. Alone. Panicked.
He didn’t even see us until I reached through the bars and yanked him back by the collar. He slammed to the ground hard, head cracking against the floor. Cyclone reached through, yanked the ring of keys off his belt.
We were out seconds later.
No one said a word—we didn’t need to.
