Выбрать главу

I shake my head. This entire situation is beginning to get away from me.

I want my sniper team. I want my militia.

I want to get back in action right now.

“We can’t stand around and talk about this anymore,” I say. “I’m taking my team and going to the north side of the city. I’m going to help stop Harry’s forces from getting into the city. He’ll be bringing them in fast because by now, I can guarantee you he’s discovered that I’ve escaped, and he knows I’ll tell you everything I saw and heard.”

“My only question is,” Vera suddenly says, “how in hell did we miss five hundred troops hiding in the dunes twenty miles outside of the city limits? How is that even possible?”

My mind flashes to the heavy fog, and how our limited air support probably had trouble seeing through it. Even then, that’s no excuse.

“Who does the perimeter patrols?” I ask.

“Militias,” Devin replies.

“Which militias?”

Devin shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “The Coyotes, the Seahawks. This week the Freedom Fighters have actually been helping while they’re here.”

“Who’s been on those patrols?” I pursue. “It hasn’t been anyone on my team, has it?”

We brought about twenty of our own men and women from the Freedom Fighters into Monterey, but as far as I know, none of them have left the Naval Postgraduate School. Their purpose was to provide security for the Negotiations.

“Well, actually—” Devin begins, but he is cut off by Elle.

“Um, excuse me,” she says, pointing out the window. “But what’s that?”

I follow her line of sight. An Omega Humvee is pulling up in the parking lot. It is flanked by United States military vehicles and soldiers. I glance at Chris.

“Devin?” Chris asks.

“This leads me to my next bombshell,” Devin shrugs. “Omega sent a courier into the city. Apparently Harry’s got a message for us.”

My blood boils.

Screw Harry Lydell and his stupid games. I want to fight.

I turn away from the window and hurry down the stairs. Everyone is hot on my heels, Chris just behind my shoulder. We walk outside. O’Byrne, the guard from the checkpoint, is the first and only face I recognize among the group of soldiers.

“We’ve got an Omega scout,” he says. “He came here willingly, under a flag of truce. He says he’s got a message for all of us.”

“Let’s hear it,” I snap.

The soldiers open the door and an Omega trooper steps outside. He is tall and European, an aristocratic sneer on his lips. He reminds me of Harry, minus the devastating good looks and curly hair.

“Greetings, officers,” he says, his voice heavy with a German accent. “Commander Hart, Harry Lydell wanted to make sure that I congratulated you on your daring escape. He was most impressed.”

I’m sure he was. Impressed and enraged.

“Go on, soldier,” I say. “What’s your business here?”

“Harry Lydell, District Prefect and General, sent me here to give you a fair warning,” he continues. “Our forces surround your city. We have four warships in the bay, waiting to fire cruise missiles at a moment’s notice. You really have no chance of survival if you choose to engage in combat. A peaceful surrender will be met with gracious mercy. We will not kill… all of you.”

“Surrender is not an option,” Chris states. His voice is steely — his determination apparent for all to see. “Tell Harry Lydell that I when I see him on the battlefield, I’ll kill him myself.”

Vera, Devin, Uriah, Andrew, Sophia and Elle say nothing.

I fold my arms across my chest, glaring.

“You’re wrong,” I say. “We have a chance. If we didn’t, Harry wouldn’t have bothered to send you over here to negotiate. He’s scared, and you know it.”

The messenger blinks, taken aback for a moment.

“I’m just here to relay General Lydell’s message,” he says. “Do you accept his offer or not?”

“Let’s take not,” I answer.

“You’re digging your own graves.”

“We’ll be the judge of that, thanks.”

“Harry will stop negotiating with the Alliance. This will mean war on Monterey.”

“We’re already at war,” Chris says, stopping him. “There’s nothing you can do to stop that now.”

The messenger nods weakly, turning his back on us.

As he gets back into the car, I lock gazes with him. I can see the fear in his eyes, ill-concealed under a façade of bluster and dramatics. He knows that we mean business, and so does Harry.

As the escort leaves, I turn to Chris and Devin.

“Tell the Alliance we’ve engaged,” I say. “Omega’s already made the first move by bombing the coastline. We need to hit back, fast.”

“But we don’t have the numbers or the manpower to stand up to—” Sophia begins, but I cut her off.

“Fight or die,” I say, looking toward the horizon. “Choose your side.”

Chapter Fourteen

This is where I belong, I think.

I am dressed in black. The wind is whipping loose pieces of my red hair into circles as I stand on the crest of a hill just outside of the city. A rifle is slung across my back. Two handguns are strapped to my belt, one to my thigh. I’ve got a couple of knives, a few grenades, and an armor-plated vest.

I am back in my element.

I am in charge again.

We are waiting in a wooded area on the north side of Monterey. The terrain is strangely stepped, veering up and down at jagged angles. Roots of trees twist in different directions. The smell of saltwater and fog and coastal pines is heavy in the air. And all is silent.

We are waiting.

Watching.

I settle into a comfortable position behind a tree, checking my ammunition and weapons. My thin black gloves keep my hands warm but allow movement — potentially quick movement, when the situation calls for it.

Uriah, Andrew, Sophia and Vera are each Lieutenants, each in charge of an individual team of militiamen and women. They are spread out among the woods with their soldiers. I am in the center, the Commander that oversees each Lieutenant and their team. Chris is here with me. He is the top dog when it comes down to it, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Manny will be here soon,” Chris whispers.

“So will Omega,” I say.

He nods.

Our militias have spread out around Monterey, surrounding the city limits like a protective barrier, planning to stop the advance of Omega troops. The Alliance should take care of the warships, and this battle should be over quickly.

I hope.

I am comfortable being out in the woods again, back on the field. I’ve had so many worries and thoughts running through my head this past week, it’s been difficult to focus my efforts on one thing: winning.

“Your father would be proud of you, Cassidy,” Chris says, touching my shoulder.

“You say that like you think he’s dead,” I reply.

“I didn’t say that,” Chris answers. “I’m saying that if he knew what you’ve done with the Alliance, and surviving the Coast Guard cutter…” he breaks off. “He’d be proud. As proud as I am. You’re a strong woman, Cassidy. You’ve grown up. You don’t need anyone’s help anymore. You can stand on your own two feet.”

I look at him, smiling softly.

“Nobody can stand on their own two feet forever,” I say. “We all need friends.”

“True.” Chris kisses my forehead. “Like I said. You’ve grown up.”

I look at him. The eerie silence of the woods is unsettling.