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“Charlotte.” Desmond turns to me, his face a mix of worry and determination as my hand hesitates over the door handle. “Wait.” Every instinct screams at me to move, to rush to Milo. “Lyric, stealth. Matty, negotiation. Charlotte, you are our secret. Don’t reveal yourself unless you have to.”
“Done.” Matty and Lyric leap out of the car, the door left ajar as they head to the trunk, which they pop open.
“What’s the plan?” My heart races with a fusion of fear and anticipation.
“I’m going to waltz in,” Desmond states with a half smile and determination in his eyes. “Try to stay close to Lyric. He knows how to move without being seen.” He leans in and plants a swift, reassuring kiss on my cheek before climbing out of the car.
This is it.
As I step out, the sun slowly slips toward the horizon, its fading light casting eerie shadows over the landscape. The days are shorter up here, hidden by the thick trees that obscure the sun. As I approach Lyric, my mind can’t help but drift to the countless children who might be suffering like Milo—children who don’t have a supportive family to rescue them when they deserve to be saved just as much as anyone else.
Lyric has a rope across his chest, and although I hope it’s not for what I fear, I push those thoughts away. That’s a problem for future Charlotte. I slip my hand into Lyric’s, finding solace in his steady grip. He glances at the hangar, his thumb brushing thoughtfully along his bottom lip. I wait patiently, knowing Lyric is experienced and knows what to do.
“All right,” he murmurs, contemplating. “Above or below.” His fingers tap on his thigh, mapping out the plan. “Above.”
I follow him as he leads me to a ladder on the side of the hangar. He’s fortunate I’m not afraid of heights. I climb the ladder behind him, doing my best to mimic his quiet, careful movements.
I only glance down once, catching a glimpse of Desmond and Matty watching and waiting below, their presence a silent reassurance that we’re in this together.
Once we breach the top of the hangar, I swallow my fear, steeling myself for what’s to come.
This is for Milo.
I hear an engine starting up. “Lyric.”
“I hear it,” Lyric whispers, leading me to an opening in the roof and peeling off the top. It’s a big drop, and for a moment, I feel queasy as I glance down. Lyric settles on his stomach, pulling a gun from his holster. I notice he only has two guns.
There’s an airplane below, its propeller spinning.
“Lyric,” I whisper, my hand settling on the gun at my thigh, my stomach churning.
“All you ever need is a breath and a bullet,” he says, firing his gun. The sound explodes in my ears before it fades away.
There’s a sputter, then the engine stops.
Desmond and Matty step in front of the plane.
“Bullseye,” Lyric whispers, hopping back up. “They aren’t flying out of here in that plane.”
Relief spills across my shoulders. “How do we get down?” My eyes remain glued to the plane, my heart thundering in my chest.
“We rappel,” he replies, picking up the rope he grabbed from the trunk.
“There’s no way I’m going to rappel,” I snark.
“Yes, you are,” he states as he anchors the rope, then comes at me with a harness.
I take a step back. “You rappel, I’ll take the ladder.”
“Charlotte.” His eyes darken in challenge.
I shake my head and take another step back. “Hard line, Lyric.” I look over my shoulder as a gust of wind ruffles my hair. “Meet me below.”
Shouts rise up, and Lyric’s face goes hard. “Fine. Go now.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I take off toward the ladder.
As I race toward the ladder, the adrenaline surging through my veins fuels my sprint. My fingers grip the rungs, each step a heartbeat in the chaotic rhythm of this rescue. The rungs feel cool and solid beneath my fingertips, grounding me as I descend.
