Wildfire (Hidden Legacy #3)(48)

Leon decided to shut up.

I had been in a firefight before, but this sitting still while riding to one was completely different. The urge to jump up, scream, do something hummed through my body. My rifle felt too heavy in my hands. My adrenaline was up and the fight hadn’t even started. My mother was still in her serene place. Sergeant Heart on my left had an almost identical expression on his face. Rogan on my right was smiling quietly to himself. At least Leon hadn’t gone to his happy place.

My cousin fidgeted in his seat. “Why don’t we just shoot a rocket at the building? It would be faster and easier.”

“Because the Verona Exception obligates us to avoid unnecessary loss of life,” Rogan answered. “When you blow up buildings, fallen debris and explosives don’t discriminate between combatants and civilians.”

“What would happen if we did it anyway?” Leon asked.

“Your sister and I would be hauled before the Assembly and forced to explain ourselves. Depending on our answers, we would be released with a fine, jailed, or killed.”

“But you’re Mad Rogan. A Prime.”

“Primes have rules,” I told him. I was learning them, and none of it made me happy.

“Weapons check,” Heart called out.

I checked my rifle. I had a thirty-round magazine and three more in the pockets of my ACUs. My helmet felt too heavy. Sweat gathered on my hairline.

Heart leaned toward me. “Don’t worry. It will be fine. Watch me, watch what the others are doing, follow orders, and you will survive this.”

I pulled my phone out and made a group text message, tagging my sisters, Bern, and Grandma Frida. I love you so much.

That’s it. There were other things to say, but that would have to be enough. I turned off the phone and put it away.

The carrier came to a stop. My mother rose and nodded to Leon. He unbuckled his harness and went toward the side door. I had this terrible feeling that I would never see them again.

My mother fixed the sergeant next to me with her sniper stare, distant and cold. “Keep my daughter alive.”

“I will,” he told her.

“I love you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“I love you too. Don’t forget to breathe.”

My mother exited the vehicle, the door slammed shut, and we were off again.

Rogan’s phone rang. He answered it and put it on speaker.

“Liam, what a pleasure.”

“As I said, we don’t know where Vincent is. So I suggest you turn your transports around and go back the way you came.”

“I prefer to ask your father in person.”

“Not going to happen.”

“I must insist.”

“No, you mustn’t. We have four Primes in residence. Do the lives of your soldiers mean so little to you? They think they’re going to come in here and kick our asses. We both know it’s not going to happen. If you care about them, take them home.”

“Your concern for my people is touching. If you want to avoid bloodshed, open the gates and we can talk like civilized people.”

“No. You’re not coming in. You’re not talking to anyone. Don’t come here with your bullet-meat soldiers and threaten us. Nobody is scared, Rogan. If you persist in your idiocy, we’ll wipe you off the face of the planet.”

“That’s a big promise.” Rogan smiled.

“Suit yourself. Your funeral.”

Liam hung up.

Rogan slid the phone into an inner pocket and squeezed my hand. “Hold on.”

The vehicle made a sharp turn and my insides went sideways. The back of the carrier dropped open, turning into a ramp. Rogan was already moving, lost ahead of me behind bodies in fatigues. Sergeant Heart thrust himself into my view and barked, “Follow me! Move!”

I grabbed my Ruger and got the hell out of the carrier.



Outside, the bright sunlight slapped me. Bullets buzzed by us like pissed-off bees, striking the top of the armored carrier with metallic pings. The space directly above us pulsed with blue as the two aegises shielded us with magic.

“Move!” Sergeant Heart roared.

I dashed forward, following the line of ex-soldiers. They grabbed the edge of the armored plate on the side of the carrier. Metal clanged, sliding into place. The armored plate split and its bottom half dropped down, forming a platform attached to the carrier’s flank.

“Up!”

I jumped onto the platform and pulled myself up between the other soldiers. Servomotors whined and the platform rose, carrying us up. Rogan’s people grabbed the top half of the armored plate, still attached to the carrier. Metal clanged again, and the armored plate slid up. Heart reached in front of me, yanked on a lever, pulled a rectangular shutter open within the plate, and secured it. I was looking through a window, two feet wide and one foot tall. The top of the armored carrier was right in front of me and I could rest my rifle on it.

A concrete yard stretched in front of us, bathed in bright sunlight. Sheer walls rose on both sides, and ahead, about two hundred yards away, another wall towered. Within it a massive door loomed, painted black, like the door of some giant castle.

Next to me, Heart called out, “Okay boys and girls, weapons ready. Safeties off.”

I slid the selector switch on my rifle to full auto.

A chorus of voices barked back. “Roger, Top.”