LOG NINETEEN – BEHAVIORAL NOTE: WHEN WATCHED, SHE SITS SILENT, POSTURE PERFECT, EXPRESSION BLANK. WHEN SHE THINKS SHE IS ALONE, HER SHOULDERS SLUMP. SHE LOOKS SAD.
“I’m tapping out,”Aurora gasps, slapping her arm frantically against the padded training mat.
I immediately release the chokehold, and we both collapse onto our backs, chests heaving like we ran a marathon. Sweat drips down my temples, and my muscles are screaming in that satisfying way that means we pushed ourselves today.
“Fuck, I’m completely wiped,” I pant, staring up at the bright lights of the Depths training room.
“Damn right we are.” Aurora grins, still catching her breath. “We’re becoming some seriously fierce bitches, if I do say so myself.” She gives me a weak but triumphant elbow to the ribs.
It’s been two weeks since the Southern District Massacre Ball, and we’ve been training like our lives depend on it, which they probably do.
Malachi kept pushing back our mission date, insisting we need more preparation time. Normally I’d be climbing the walls, arguing that we’re wasting precious time while people suffer in those labs. But I’m grateful for the extra training.The ball showed me how little control I really have over my abilities when the stakes get high.
The political landscape has shifted a bit since that night. Irina is still in the South, apparently providing stability during this difficult transition, which really means she’s systematically installing her own people in positions of power while the surviving district leaders are too traumatized to stop her. Meanwhile, Rain’s entire team has been permanently stationed at Marco’s former compound. Irina’s not giving up that strategic stronghold now that she controls it.
And Marco’s made himself quite comfortable in Viktor’s sprawling estate. As Viktor’s twin brother, he inherited everything by default—which I’m sure was exactly what Irina intended when she had Viktor killed. Or maybe Marco had him killed. I know he never trusted him, and this way he can be closer to his sick experiments. Now the bastard is literally sitting on top of the very lab we need to infiltrate, probably torturing more innocent Avids while we sit here perfecting our combat roles. Okay, he’s not right on top of it, but he’s close, too close for comfort.
“Go get changed and meet me by the elevators. I have an idea,” Aurora announces, jumping to her feet and offering me her hand with a mischievous grin.
“Why do I get the feeling your idea is going to get us killed?” I narrow my eyes at her as she grasps my hand and pulls me up effortlessly. Geez, she really is stronger than she looks.
“Only one way to find out. Now, move your ass,” she snipes over her shoulder as she bounces toward the gym door, red curls flying.
I head down to the bedroom Malachi and I have been sharing. It’s a far cry from his cozy cabin, but it’ll have to do since he’s convinced returning there is a death wish. I throw onleggings and a sweater, figuring whatever Aurora has planned will either require running or hiding.
“Took you long enough,” Aurora says when I meet her at the elevators, tapping her foot impatiently.
“That was literally three minutes, and I’m still gross from sparring,” I protest.
“You’re fine. Besides, we’re not going anywhere fancy.” She hits the button for the surface level. “Trust me.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter as we ascend.
“Oh, live a little,” she laughs, practically vibrating with excitement as we step outside into the biting wind.
Cade’s jeep is on the street, surrounded by other Syndicate vehicles, making this sleepy neighborhood of tract houses look like a government stakeout.
“Please tell me Cade knows we’re commandeering his ride,” I say, climbing into the passenger seat.
“Commandeering sounds so official. We’re borrowing it.” Aurora turns the key. “Along with some of their expense account. When’s the last time you did something for fun?”
The engine purrs to life, and despite everything going on right now, I find myself grinning like an idiot. “You know what? You’re absolutely right.”
“Malachi is going to kill me when he finds out I let you take me to a deserted part of town,” I say as we park behind a dilapidated mall.
The building is a disaster—broken windows covered with plywood, graffiti covering every surface, chunks of concrete missing from the walls. This place looks like it could be smack in the middle of a gutter zone.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?” she says, hopping out of the jeep with infectious energy and shooting me a broad smile as she loops her arm through mine.
Despite the perpetual cold, the sun is actually out today, making the temperature almost tolerable for once.
“Sure, but this is a far cry from a book, Aurora. This looks like we might get murdered before I even see whatever surprise you have planned,” I quip.
She lets go of my arm and pushes open one of the heavy mall doors. I follow her inside, and the interior matches the exterior perfectly—abandoned storefronts, broken tiles, the musty smell of decay and neglect.
I glance at a section of wall near the entrance where someone has spray-painted in bright blue letters, “EAT THE RICH OR FEED THEM TO THE GUTTER RATS.”
“Nice. Real classy, Aurora. How do you even know about places like this?” I ask, gesturing at our lovely surroundings.
