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Raven gives a backward nod. “Bring out a drone.”
We all turn to look at Raven.
So does the surveillance guard. “How many? And where do you want them? East? West? Port Mrei entrance?” he asks with no surprise as he picks up his phone and dials someone.
“One, for now. Night vision model,” says Raven, his arms crossed at his chest as if he’s the boss here. “Start with the road from Port Mrei, bring it lower to the ground but high enough so no one can reach it. It’ll be easier for the kid to orient himself.”
The surveillance guy does as he’s told, and in a minute, Sonny stabs the screen with his finger. “Turn left. Behin’ the broken shed, there’s a trap door.”
Kai marks it on the paper map in front of him.
In a minute, Sonny stabs the screen again. “Under the big ol’ tent with a wind bird, there’s a door tha’ goes down under.”
He points out two more places like this, and we all stare in shock.
Just then, the screen goes dark.
“What happened?” Kai blurts out.
“Someone must’ve knocked it out,” the surveillance guy says, makes a phone call, then announces, “Signal lost.”
That’s when Raven says quietly, his voice low but etched with danger, “Send a dozen more drones to scout the area. Get every surveillance guy on it. I’m staying here with the kid. Call Marlow, Bishop, and get the head of security. We need to send the swat team to the Ashlands. Now.”
54
ARCHER
God,how I never wanted to see this place. But here we are, the Ashlands, the den of Savages. The rain makes everything even worse, lifting off the putrid smells into the air.
It’s nighttime, but the shantytown teems with life. Barracks, makeshift tents, fire pits—who knows what happens in the darkest pits of this hell… Those fires never die, not even during rains and storms. Warming, cooking, burning remains…
There are muffled voices everywhere. A freaking baby is crying in one of the dirty nests that make up this God-awful place. That’s humanity—carrying on even in the worst places.
I’m trying to figure out what our next move is. We are half-naked, barefoot, with two guns but in hostile territory and chased by maniacs. Shadows creep here and there. There are glints of bonfires in the distance. In places like this, one never knows who is an enemy or just a bystander. Someone might rat us out with just one shout. Someone might mess with us just for fun.
Kat and I sit with our backs against the wooden boards of someone’s shack and wait for a chance—for what, I’m not sure, hopefully, to get out of this fucking place, though this might be way harder than escaping the underground prison cell.
The group of thugs behind our building doesn’t move. A scooter pulls up to them, then storms off. We can’t come out or move yet. We might have to wait it out.
For a place that doesn’t have electricity, for the middle of the night or whatever time it is, this place is set in a soft hazy glow—fires, smoke, dust. My eyes have adjusted to semi-darkness. Kat’s eyes wander around, assessing, her expression too calm, considering the situation we’re in.
She sounds almost dreamy when she whispers, “Remember you said once, ‘We don’t do anything but fuck?’”
“Yeah. We did way more than that.”
“We danced.”
“We danced,” I echo with a smile.
“Now we’ve been kidnapped, we beat the guys up, and are hunted in the filthiest pits of this island. You jinxed us, Archer. I wish we weren’t doingthatmuch. We always get carried away, huh?”
I chuckle but don’t like that it sounds like it’s my fault. “I never wanted to put you in danger, Kat. You know that, right?”
We’ve been through highs and lows that top most relationships I know, but this is the cherry on the cake.
“I have a feeling it’s my fault,” she says quietly.
“What? No. Absolutely not. We’ll make it,” I reassure her. “I don’t have a choice. I can’t lose you.”
