My pulse jumps.
It’s time.
Time to rescue Malik. Time to bring Yara’s brother home. And once we do, I’m not fucking around anymore. I’m telling her I love her.
CHAPTER 19
YARA
As soon asRafe’s hand comes down, we all take off running.
Crouched low, making ourselves as small of targets as possible, we head due north, towards a small copse of trees halfway between us and the house up ahead. Ace is in the lead, then me, and Indy at my six. Though I’ve never run an op with them before, it feels natural, like we’ve done this dozens of times.
Off to our right, Rafe, Tyler, Trigger, and Grover are doing the same as they move towards their next destination. With my goggles on, I catch a glimpse of the four of them, moving in tandem. But to the average person, they’d be no more than shifting shadows in the night.
It was a good idea of Rafe’s, waiting an extra day for the new moon. It stung at first, delaying our rescue attempt when I knew Malik was so close. But being out here, seeing the difference between last night’s moon and tonight… I’m glad we did it.
As the trees grow closer, my adrenaline surges.
We’re so close.
In only minutes, we’ll be breaching the house.
And then…
Oh, please. Let it all go as planned.
Let Malik be in there, as our source claimed.
Let us get through this rescue without complications.
Let everyone make it home safely.
And please,oh please, let Ace come through this okay.
An icy hand wraps around my heart and squeezes. With it, fear clutches my chest. The same question that’s haunted me for the last week comes at me again.
What if this mission goes sideways? What if, in my desperation to rescue Malik, I end up getting my friends hurt? Or even killed?
What if Ace?—
No.
I grab hold of the metaphorical steel door in my mind and yank it shut, sealing off the unwelcome thoughts. There’s no place for them here, not when I need to be solely focused on what’s coming next.
With our comms silent for now, the only sound I can hear is the faint crunch of my footsteps on the patchy grass. Unused to wearing full tactical gear after three years out, my skin prickles with sweat. With the heavy weight of my bulletproof vest pressing down on my chest, a wave of claustrophobia hits me. My pulse jumps.
Self-doubt nudges in, growing more oppressive the closer to the trees we get.
What if I can’t handle this, despite my insistence of the opposite? What if I’m not as strong as I claimed? What if I freeze up in there, and I end up getting someone killed?
My fear is a rip current, trapping me. Dragging me down. Stealing my confidence and making me doubt coming at all.
Maybe I should have stayed back at B and A, like Ace gently suggested at the start. “You’re still healing,” he explained. “And after everything with Davis…”
I got mad at him for that. Afterwards, back in his—or is it our?—apartment, I argued with him about it. I laid out all the reasons why I was more than capable of going on this mission, and I even accused him of not believing in me.
How ironic is that? Accusing Ace of not believing in me when I don’t even believe in myself?
