He got back on the comm. “We’ve covered the full grid. There’s nothing here.”
Silence on the other end. Then Cannon’s voice filled their ears, more tense than any of them liked to hear. “Return to base.”
He stood there for another moment, listening to the driving wind. But more, he listened to the inner workings of his mind.
Something was wrong.
He couldn’t name it yet, but he’d been operating long enough to know with the cold certainty that he was standing in the wrong place.
Monk touched his shoulder. “Mount up.”
The team rolled out without a word spoken between any of them—and that worried him just as fucking much as his own misgivings.
One operator questioning orders was one thing. An entire Blackout team another.
They turned the snowmobiles back toward base. Though the wind was at their backs, the knot in Rome’s chest was as cold as ice.
He pushed harder and told himself he was being paranoid, that it was a genuine mistake—bad coordinates, a false alarm that only cost them a few hours of sleep.
By the time they neared the base, the sky was taking on a new hue, still black but a little lighter, like charcoal smudged over the screen of stars. Snow fell in fat flakes, covering the ground in fresh powder as far as they could see.
His comm crackled, and for no discernable reason, adrenaline hit his system.
He pushed the snowmobile faster, telling himself he was being paranoid.
Too bad he didn’t fucking believe it.
He leaned into the throttle and pushed down the concern that his chest hadn’t loosened even one degree as they approached base.
He just rode faster.
* * * * *
Stina sat on the edge of the bed, knees bouncing, and listened to the sounds of the empty base.
If she was sitting on her bed at this time of night in Chicago, she would hear traffic on the street, her neighbors fighting—or fucking—and the loud groan of the water pipes every time someone in the building flushed a toilet.
There wasn’t much noise on base, only the hum of ventilation. Outside noises didn’t exist underground. No wind, traffic, no world beyond these concrete walls to remind her any of this was real.
She stared at the open door straight into Rome’s room.
She could slip back into his bed and surround herself by his scent, but she was too afraid of where he was and what he was doing.
Or what was happening to him.
A figure stepped into her line of vision.
“Jolie.”
After the team left, Jolie went to her room to get dressed as if she felt more vulnerable in her pajamas and needed the armor that clothes provided.
Stina spread her hands on her bouncing knees. “I hate this.”
“I know.” Jolie strode forward and plopped onto the bed. Stina immediately leaned her head on her bestie’s shoulder, and Jolie hugged her.
They sat that way for a long time. Their worries didn’t change. Their fears were the same. But at least they were together.
Jolie pointed to the object leaning against the wall. “What’s that?”
