Page 70 of Rogue Mission

We don’t speak because there’s no need. When he motions for me to take the lead, we fall into a familiar rhythm.

Systematically, we clear the upper floor.

There’s an electrical hum to the house, too.

Feels like a breath being held.

For the next scream.

Our boots hit the stairs in sync, two soundless killers. I’m twitchy though. All the nerves in my body are alive, every sense heightened. Tuned into Rosalie, just a few doors away.

Vulnerable.

She’s getting trained in weapons and self defense. It’s the only way I’ll survive being ten feet away from her.

At the bottom of the stairs, we move slowly through the large home.

The alarm system didn’t go off. The perimeter should be secure. But we both know, anything can happen.

Sweat cools on my back, the metallic tang of sex and adrenaline mixing with the faint static of charged air the entire time.

Then we hit the living room and everything stops.

Fucking hell.

Camile’s in the center of the floor, folded in on herself. Not moving.

Not crying. Just still.

As if someone cut a puppet’s strings.

I’d rather see an intruder. I’d know what I was dealing with.

The silence surrounding her cuts me deeper than any scream.

“Go tell Rosalie and Allison it’s clear. Get them down here,” I murmur to Truck without looking away from Beast’s girl.

“Camile heard from Beast,” Marshall calls as he emerges from the first floor hallway, his hair is standing up from his hand being shoved into it.

“We’re mobilizing. Get your gear,” he orders.

“He’s alive, thank fuck,” I say with a rush of emotion that makes my throat expand and contract simultaneously.

Moving to touch Camile’s shoulder to reassure her, I crouch down til we’re eye-to-eye. “Hey,” I rasp, unable to say more.

She’s crying quietly, gripping her cell phone with an iron hold.

“He sent a message in code,” Marshall tells us, tapping rapid-fire into his cell phone. “I’m relaying the message to Mako and Danee right now.”

A patter of small feet hit the stairs, and both Rosalie and Allison practically tumble into the living room.

“What’s happening?” Allison asks, her expression as tense as the rest of us.

“Beast got in touch,” Truck tells her quietly.

Allison gasps. “Oh my god, this is great news.”

It is.It fucking is, but I’m not sure what’s happening inside of me. I can’t move. Can’t breathe. And the more time that passes, the tighter my muscles coil.