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Now I have a purpose, at least.

As we gear up for the journey down the mountain to hit the Omega base in the nearby valley city of Sanger, my nerves are all over the place. I give an Oscar-winning performance of calmness for Chris and the rest of the camp, but on the inside, I’m being eaten alive with anxiety. We’ve never tried to attack a target this big before, and we’ve really never tried to hit anything outside of the foothills.

Something about this whole mission seems… off.

Go with your gut instinct, Chris told me. But my gut instincts aren’t like his. Mine are tainted with fear and raw nerves, which makes the “instinct” a little hard to decipher. How do you know what’s real and what’s not?

I’m guessing this is why I’m not in charge.

The night we’re supposed to carry out our mission on the supply depot finally rolls in. Chris is wound tight — more so than usual. My stomach is tied into knots. Even Alexander seems tense about the situation. I guess it’s natural. We are wandering out of our comfort zone this time.

“Maybe we should just wait and see if the Rangers will help us,” I suggest to Chris. We’re waiting by our pickup truck, checking our gear. “This is a big target. We’ve got a lot of men, but backup could never hurt, right?”

“We don’t have time to wait around for the Underground to bring us a message back from the Rangers,” Chris replies, tugging on his jacket collar. “I want to hit the depot before they’ve got everything completely mobilized. Before they get everything set up. We can’t wait.”

I sigh.

“I just have a bad feeling about this one, Chris.”

He presses his lips together, meeting my gaze.

“Don’t let fear back you into a corner,” he warns. “This is new for us, so it’s intimidating. But we’re more than capable. You know that.”

“I know. But—”

“—No. Cassie, remember what I said about people respecting you? You’re an example. Don’t let people see you being afraid. Be brave. Even if you don’t feel that way.”

I nod, blinking back tears.

“Yes, sir.”

He traces my cheek with the back of his hand.

“We’ll be fine.”

How many times are we going to have to go through this kind of scene? I guess that’s what war does to you. It’s repetitive. It’s also terrifying. Going to college and getting my criminal justice degree would have been a lot easier than this.

Leave it to me to do things the hard way.

“Be careful,” Isabel says.

She’s wrapped up in an oversized windbreaker. Her wild blonde hair is sticking up in every direction, and her baby blue eyes are tinged with red. She’s as tired as the rest of us, despite the fact that she doesn’t do any fighting. Living in an active warzone is enough.

“We will be.” I give her a hug. “Take care of everything until we get back.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“We should be back by morning.”

Chris musses up her hair.

“See you, kid.” He gives her a smile and walks to the center of the camp. It’s time to run through the plan one more time before we move out. I walk around the edge of the ring, spotting Harry in the crowd. He’s talking animatedly to somebody, but he’s too far away for me to make out what he’s saying. I inch closer, straining to hear. Chris steps into the middle of the circle and starts speaking.

“This will be the biggest target we’ve hit to date,” he says. “Let’s go through the plan one more time and make sure everybody’s completely clear on what they’re supposed to do…”

The man that Harry’s talking to has his back turned to me, and I can’t see who it is in the darkness. I weave through the crowd, trying to concentrate on Chris’s speech and Harry’s movements at the same time.

“…You just watch yourself,” I hear.

Harry’s gaze snaps to the left. He sees me. He stiffens and mutters something under his breath. The man he’s talking to turns around, glaring at me. Alexander Ramos. I suck in my breath. Harry takes a few steps backwards and melts into the crowd, throwing a nervous glance over his shoulder.

“Well?” Alexander demands.

I open and close my mouth a few times, unsure of what to say.

He scowls and brushes past me.

“Watch yourself, Hart.”

His tone is harsh. Harry and Alexander disappear into the crowd in two different directions. My mind is spinning. What could those two possibly be talking about?

I move back through the audience to catch the tail end of Chris’s talk.

“It’s the same principle as all of the attacks we’ve done before,” he’s saying, “only on a larger scale. We’ll still surround the depot on four sides, and Max and his team will still open the gates for us…but this depot isn’t fully operational yet, so I’m counting on security being a little more lax than what we’ve experienced in the past. Does anybody have any questions?”

Silence.

“Good. Remember, in the event that something does go wrong,” he continues, “We revert to using our backup plan.” A smile touches his lips, and I instantly know what he’s talking about. “Surround the enemy, take cover, and start firing. If they try to break through our lines, just keep retreating and moving with them. Create an inescapable circle of fire. It will be unlike anything Omega’s ever been hit with. Any more questions?”

Nope. Chris’s father steps forward and offers a brief prayer over the camp. When he’s done, I trail behind Chris and corner him back at the truck.

“Alexander Ramos was talking to Harry,” I say.

“Yeah?” He looks at his notebook, biting his lower lip.

“You don’t find that highly suspicious?”

Chris opens the driver door and gestures

for me to crawl inside.

“No. Somebody needs to keep Harry in

line.”

“No. They were talking. Like, engaging in

actual chitchat. It wasn’t cool.”

“Cassie…” Chris literally picks me up and moves me towards the door. “Get in. We’re leaving now. If Alexander was talking to Harry, it wasn’t because he was plotting world domination. He’s a rough guy, but he’s not evil.”

I slide into the passenger seat and roll the window down.

“I disagree,” I shrug. “I think the dude is creepy.”

“He’s not warm and fuzzy, but he’s not a bad guy.”

I disagree with that, too. Alexander is very unpredictable, plus he walks around with a chip on his shoulder. He resents Chris for taking away his position of leadership. I can see it in his face every time I look at him.

But what do I know? I’m not in charge. I’m just going off instinct.

We move out. We’ve got about a dozen trucks loaded with militiamen. The other trucks have already gone on without us. They’ll meet us at a pre-planned rally point down the road. We’re traveling separately to keep the engine noise down — plus, it’s safer for everybody involved if we’re not traveling in one giant wagon train. A bigger group means a bigger target, and that’s not how guerilla war fighters roll.

Sophia jumps into the back of the truck. We lock gazes through the window. She nods, giving me a Girl Scout salute and a weak smile. “It’s going to be okay,” she mouths.

“I know,” I say.

By the time we hit the dusty road, my nerves have calmed down a little. I’ve gone from raw fear to acceptance of the situation, which is what happens to me before every mission these days. And then once the fighting actually starts, adrenaline takes over and I feel like a ninja warrior.