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The tavern was mostly constructed of white and grey river stones, yet as Reya had pointed out, the front wall was made of glass, opening up the whole main floor to the public’s eye. Although it was too far away for even our sharpened gazes to see clearly, I had a general idea of what was going on without any form of magnification. People cowered along the bar that took up the back wall or hid under tables; three men paced throughout the room, their movements erratic. Although I couldn’t make out what they were saying, the booming of their shouts drifted toward us on the wind.
“Are those bodies I see?” I pointed to the still forms lying on a few of the tables.
“Unfortunately.” Reya nodded. “First death was confirmed about ten minutes ago.”
“Why haven’t you infiltrated yet?”
“We got one of the guards closer to try and negotiate.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “He was able to confirm that all three suspects are Shrivikas, and based on their erratic behavior and the blackened veins running up their necks and faces, all three of them are currently high on blackthorn.”
“Futeacha,” Nolan swore in Old Kazalonian, his fists clutching around the handle of his Amalgam Blade; mine did the same as I pulled my bow from my back.
Blackthorn was one of two illegal drugs we were constantly fighting against the distribution and use of. The crushed gray powder was incredibly addicting to Shrivikas, giving them a sense of invincibility or euphoria. To them, everything felt possible, which led to dangerous and erratic behavior that not only put them in danger, but the people around them. Even worse, when high concentrations of it were taken, Shrivikas became insatiable for blood, their lust for it heightened to a point that they could drain multiple people dry and still feel unsatisfied. Many mass-murder cases had been linked to a blackthorn high, one of the many reasons we wanted to keep it off the streets.
If all three of these men were high off blackthorn, it made this whole situation even more contentious. One wrong move, and they would kill everyone inside if they felt it was for the best in their altered state of mind.
My finger tightened around my bow, eyes scanning the area around the tavern, looking for any spot that might have allowed me to get a sniper’s view. It wasn’t our best option, since the suspects were keeping themselves covered between the other patrons and victims, most likely making it too dangerous for me to take a clean shot at them. Still, we were taught to exhaust every option before infiltrating, knowing that an act like that could cause more harm than good if the suspects were enraged enough. And by the way these three were feeding and the darkened veins on their skin growing larger, their blackthorn high wasn’t dissipating anytime soon.
Something off to the side caught my eye, a chill sweeping so suddenly over my body, I barely believed what was right in front of me.
“Commander?” I turned to her. “Can I borrow your spyglass?”
“Of course, Beta.”
She handed over the long cylinder before I brought the small opening to my eye, scanning the area to the right of the tavern, bile rising in my throat as I confirmed my fear. “Goddess, no.”
“What is it?” Beckett asked, nudging my shoulder.
“That’s Lea’s cart.” I pointed to the wooden cart, black-dyed canvas covering the top of it to protect all her wares, the slats painted a bright green with the words ‘Adelaide's Armory & Blacksmith’.
“Who’s Lea?” Nolan asked.
“My roommate.” My fingers tightened around the spyglass, my eyes searching for any sign of her through the front of the tavern. I couldn’t spot her, my stomach lurching. “She told me this morning she had a delivery today at the local garrison. She must have stopped for dinner on her way home.”
“Are you sure?”
“I can’t spot her in the crowd, but there are plenty of blind spots she could be in.” I handed the spyglass back to Commander Reya. “I know that’s her cart.”
Why? Justwhywas all I could think, constantly repeating it in my mind. Lea had been there for me throughout my entire life. She was my best friend growing up, she had come over almost every night after my mother passed to keep me company. She had been there when I transformed into my wolf form for the first time and we had briefly been in the same pack until I joined the guard at eighteen. Throughout it all, she had been a constant, and she had showed up when I needed to get away from my Faction after being released from the hospital. When I felt hopeless and lost, she gave me a sanctuary to run to. And now her life was at risk for no other reason than three men decided to go ravage a tavern.
Goddess, why was life so unfair?
“We’re gonna get her out.” Nolan gripped my shoulder, shaking me from my thoughts, my imagination getting the best of me at the idea of her lifeless body splayed across the bar with the stack of others already piling up.
“I know.” I nodded, trying my best to believe it myself, but the pained cry that pierced the air from inside the tavern made it difficult.
“With the dead piling up, I think the best thing to do is infiltrate,” Beckett said, his arms crossed tightly against his chest. “Negotiation didn’t work, and we can’t wait for their high to wear off, not when it’s obvious they still have a ways to go before they crash.”
“They could kill half the tavern by then,” I whispered.
“Exactly.” Beckett nodded. “Better to try and save as many as possible then sit back and let them be picked off one by one.”
“I agree.” Nolan nodded, giving my shoulder one last pat before pulling away.
“There’s a back point of entry that my soldiers were able to scout out during the preliminary investigation,” Reya said. “They’re so distracted by their own bloodlust, they shouldn’t see a team sneaking around the side, even with the windows.”
“Perfect.” Beckett nodded, waving the rest of our team to move closer, all of them crowding around us for next steps. “We’re infiltrating, with the local guard staying outside to help usher out any captives and get them to safety.”
“The goal is to get everyone out alive, even the suspects,” Nolan said, his fingers twitching at his sheathed blades. “But the captives are our first priority.”
