Preparation began before the sun rose.
Same crew. Same tension. Same silence.
We didn't speak much, but we didn't have to. Every member of the old team knew what we were walking into—and more importantly, what we were pretending we didn't know.
Kol handed me the manifest. His eyes flicked up to mine for only a second. "Same route. Same cover story."
I nodded. "Same consequences if we mess up."
He smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Always."
Mira's name wasn't on the manifest, thank the gods. She'd been relocated to a smaller shelter after what happened last time, and I didn't have to carry the guilt of her safety on top of everything else.
Still, that didn't stop Nyx from whispering.
Check the third crate.
I didn't. Not yet. Not with eyes everywhere. I needed to survive this mission, and survival meant playing the part.
The loading dock was bathed in fog. Shadows shifted across the cargo lot. Somewhere out in the mist, the transport van rumbled to life.
"Any changes to the route?" I asked, voice sharp.
Kol shook his head. "Detour around Sector Nine. Road construction. Adds six hours."
Six hours. Just enough time for something to go catastrophically wrong.
I scanned the manifest again.
Boxes marked with numbers. No names. No indicators. But the weight of that third crate pulsed like a bruise beneath my ribs.
It's not dormant, Nyx said.
I didn't reply.
When I returned to my quarters to gather my gear, Nine was already awake.
He stood at the window, bathed in pale light. Hair mussed. Shirt rumpled. The bandage still wrapped tight around the mark I'd given him.
He turned the second I entered.
Today?
I nodded.
His hands fisted at his sides. When will you be back?
"Three days. Maybe four."
He didn't say anything.
But I felt it.
Every fractured piece of him trembling beneath the surface.
I crossed the room and cupped his face.
"You'll be safe," I promised. "They won't send anyone else to you. They know I've been managing your schedule personally."
He leaned into the touch. Don't let them hurt you.
"I won't."
He reached for me then, arms around my waist, pulling me close like he could lock me there.
Just a little longer, I whispered in the bond. Then we find a way out.
He pressed his face to my neck and inhaled deeply. Promise?
I swear it.
When I left him, he was still standing there.
Watching me.
Believing me.
And that belief was heavier than any crate I'd be loading.
Kol met me at the back of the van.
"We got movement reports two towns over. Could be stragglers. Could be cops. Could be nothing."
I checked the security locks on the crates myself.
"What about inside?"
He gave me a look. "What inside?"
I didn't smile.
Good. He was still pretending.
The rest of the crew filtered in silently. Weapons checked. Routes memorized. No one touched the third crate. Not even with a glance.
Which meant everyone knew.
And no one was willing to say it.
When the van pulled away from the dock, I felt it.
The weight of everything waiting to go wrong.
And in the silence of the hum of the tires and the whispered chatter of the radio, I pressed my hand to the metal wall between me and the cargo hold.
Still asleep, Nyx muttered.
Let it stay that way.
For all our sakes.