Page 32 of Hunted By the Wraiths
Maris pulled me into a side passage. We pressed against opposite walls. The narrow space meant proximity. The bond pain climbed to eight.
Worth it.
The guards passed. Their boots rang on the metal grating.
Maris looked at me. Gray eyes assessing. She’d felt the pain spike.
“I’m fine,” I said.
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’m always bleeding.”
She made that sound. The one that meant she was frustrated and scared and refusing to show either.
I loved that sound.
We continued up. The ventilation shaft Maris had mapped out appeared ahead. She pried open the panel.
“After you,” I said.
She climbed in. I followed.
The shaft was narrow. My shoulders scraped the sides. Every movement pulled at the wounds. The copper taste in my mouth got stronger.
But we were close. The Fortress was just ahead.
We reached the grating. Maris positioned herself below it. I braced my feet and pushed.
The grating popped free. Too loud. We both froze.
No alarms. No shouts.
She pulled herself through. I squeezed after her, my shoulder screaming as I forced it through the gap.
We dropped into The Fortress.
The command core was exactly as she’d described. Circular room. Dormant servers. Glass walls overlooking a dark cavern. Single terminal in the center.
Cache three.
The bond hummed. I felt Maris’s spike of satisfaction. Almost there.
She crossed to the terminal. Started working. Her fingers moved fast, certain. She knew these systems. She’d built them.
I positioned myself by the door. Listened. Watched the glass walls.
Movement outside. Multiple hostiles converging on our position.
“Maris,” I said. “Thirty seconds.”
“I need sixty.”
“You have thirty.”
Her fingers moved faster.
I counted hostiles through the glass. Twelve. Armed. Moving in coordinated pairs.
