Page 38 of Rebel
“You always pick the loud exits,” I whisper.
“Shut up,” she breathes, but she doesn’t move away, and my dick takes notice. Now is not the time to get an erection.
The guards pass, their flashlights slicing through the shadows. We don’t move until silence returns.
Then she looks at me with wide, furious eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Bishop?”
I hesitate, the truth crawling up my throat. “There was someone else there the night Alex died. Someone was feeding the Vultures intel.”
Her breath catches. “You know who?”
“Not yet,” I lie.
Her gaze lingers, suspicion sharp, but she lets it go. “Then we find out. Together.”
“Together,” I echo, knowing that word’s gonna burn later.
We move through the tunnel and emerge behind the plant, the city’s hum waiting like a held breath. Sirens moan somewhere distant.
“Bad news,” Divine’s voice cuts in. “You just tripped an exterior cam. Ten hostiles inbound.”
Rebel grins. It’s wild, beautiful, and reckless. “Guess subtlety’s over.”
“Guess so.”
We take positions behind a stack of pallets, guns drawn. The first headlights slice through the dark, beams catching the dust like falling stars.
Rebel exhales beside me, fingers flexing around her grip.
“You ready?” she asks.
“Never,” I say. “That’s how I know it’s time.”
She smirks. “You really are a pessimist.”
“I’m a realist.”
“That’s just pessimism with better PR.” I laugh under my breath, and it feels foreign, almost human.
The engines roar closer. We rise together, side by side, two soldiers waiting for the storm to break. And for the first time since Alex Slade died, I’m not just surviving.
I’m fighting for something that matters.
11
REBEL
Engines snarl closer. Ten vehicles, maybe more. Headlights slice through the smog like knives. The air tastes of oil and ozone, the way it does right before everything goes to hell. Carter’s shoulder brushes mine, steady and unspoken. Move or die.
Divine’s voice snaps through the comm, calm but sharp.“South alley is boxed. Your only clean exit is under the east conveyor. It’s a service crawl space, twelve meters ahead. Cameras are offline for ninety seconds. Run!”
Carter’s hand finds mine before I can think. “You heard her. Run.”
That’s all I need.
We dive out from behind the pallets as the first volley of gunfire erupts. Bullets chew the crates we were using for cover, wood splintering into dust. Carter pulls me with him. I don’t argue. Carter moves in controlled bursts, calm, where I’m all pulse and grit. We zigzag through metal racks until Divine’s voice hits again.
“Sixty seconds.”
