Page 165 of Daggermouth

Some days he truly felt as if he was no better than the rest of the garbage in this city.

“Confirmed,” Callum replied. “Maintain escort protocol.”

He ended the transmission, exhaling slowly. Mikel was the linchpin—the inside man with direct access to both prisoners. If he turned on them, if he had been compromised . . .

No. He couldn’t think that way. Trust was a commodity in short supply, but they had no choice but to extend it now. Mikel had proven himself loyal to the cause, had risked everything to protect his son.

His son.

The truth still stunned Callum, though he’d had days to process it. He knew most secrets kept in this city, but this one—this one he was not prepared for. Greyson Serel, son of Mikel. Not Maximus.

He checked his watch. Thirty minutes until the first phase needed to be complete. His throat felt dry, constricted. He reached for the glass of water on his desk, careful not to disturb the maps as he took a drink.

His fingers swiped over his tablet, punching in the numbers for this third status report.

“Ghost, what’s your position?”

Jameson’s voice came through immediately, thrumming with anticipation. “In position at entry point. Teams ready for ascent.”

Callum pulled up a different screen, this one showing the old maintenance shaft that led directly from Cardinal to the Heart. To the basement of his club. The access point should have been sealed years ago, but Callum had bribed the right officials, falsified the right reports. On paper, it didn’t exist anymore.

“Shaft is secured,” Callum confirmed, checking the feed one last time. “You’re clear to begin your ascent. Remember, when you arrive at the basement, do not leave it under any circumstances until you receive the signal.”

“Copy that.” A pause, then Jameson added, “Any word on Shade?”

The concern in his voice was unmistakable.

“She’s alive,” he said. “Moving to the plaza with Greyson. Mikel is with them.”

A tense silence followed before he answered. “Understood.”

Callum pulled the tablet from his ear. He knew what Jameson was thinking—that Mikel better have protected her, that someone would pay if she’d been harmed. The love Jameson had for Shadera was as obvious as it was hopeless. Some part of Callum pitied him for it.

Three calls down.

His fingers hesitated to dial the number. This was different. They had barely spoken since the meeting, outside of required conversation about the rebellion they hadn’t truly spoken.

He scratched at his brow, an uncomfortable feeling settling into his chest, then dialed her number.

She answered on the first ring, her voice clear and focused. “Yes?”

Just hearing her steadied something in him. Lira had always been his constant, his North Star. Five years of watching her from a distance, of loving her in silence, had taught him to recognize every nuance in her voice. She was afraid, but resolute. Ready.

“Are the drones in position?” he asked, focusing on the mission first.

“Yes,” she replied. “All media feeds are secure and ready. The primary broadcast will begin in thirty minutes, and the secondary feeds showing people arriving are already live.”

Callum nodded. The media was her domain—the official channels through which the Heart disseminated its propaganda, now reprogrammed to serve the rebellion instead. When the time came, they would broadcast the truth and no one would be able to look away.

“And Brooker?”

“He and his Veyra are at the base, they are working to secure the bombs.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s . . . good.”

A silence stretched between them, filled with all the things they hadn’t said, all the fears they hadn’t voiced. Lira would be the most exposed of all of them when this began. She would be standing besideher father on that platform, playing her role as the dutiful daughter one last time while the rebellion erupted around her.

“Callum?” Her voice was softer now, private.