Page 167 of Seasons of War
“Who are you?”
Wincing from lifting his arm, he ripped his mask off, and the major drew back when he saw his face. “Zayne Riven,” he said.
Ashantae lifted Zayne’s shirt and applied pressure to his wound. He growled through gritted teeth at the explosion of pain, casting a look at his friend over his shoulder.
“What did you do?” Major Tyndale asked. “Why are you here?”
“I want to make a deal,” Zayne said, wincing.
Alcohol poured over the wound like fucking lava right in the middle of Zayne negotiating, and he lowered his head, muscles shaking from how hard he tensed. They only had two minutes. He knew Ashantae couldn't wait, but he scarcely controlled his temper.
Major Tyndale looked skeptical, but impressively calm. “What kind of deal?”
“My brother led an operation to extract information from Becka.” His nostrils flared when Ashantae pinched the wound closed, applying medical strips. “She's unharmed. We attacked the squad before they could interrogate her, but someonewill find the bodies soon. If we're going to negotiate, you need to help us escape for now.”
“I'm not sure how much of a choice I have given your weapon.”
“My friend's intel shows you're the only one who objected to killing Kira Stiles.” He wiped the sweat from his face, feeling Ashantae bandaging the wound now. “I'm the one who tried to break her out.”
“You?” The major asked. “That's hard to believe.”
“I need someone I can trust not to kill her. In return, I'll give you whatever you want that I can reasonably provide.”
“Is this a trick?”
“I just stopped my brother from forcing Becka to divulge the location of Followers all over Ciondo. There's no way what I'm doing benefits the Phaedra.”
Ashantae applied the pressure bandage. “Done.”
“There's no time to talk today,” Zayne said. “I wanted to introduce myself. My friend will be in contact. Please, hear us out before saying no.”
The major's hand still rested near his gun. “I'm willing to talk if I choose the location.”
“Fine with me,” Ashantae said.
Zayne held the major's eyes. “Tell anyone about this, and I'll kill you. You'll hear from us soon.”
Any second now, they'd hear the alarms. No more time. He and Ashantae sprinted from the room toward their escape. On the way, Zayne stripped off his shirt and tossed it to his friend. Then he pulled the uniform and helmet he was supposed to be wearing from his bag. Once they made it to the closet with the window they'd use, he switched his pants and passed his bag to Ashantae.
“Thank you.”
“Can you hide the wound?” they asked.
“Yeah. I'll deal with it. Be safe.”
Every movement hurt when he dragged himself through the window, but he couldn't slow down.
Zayne reached Brock with less than a minute to spare, and together they took the service exit out of the base, while the alarms started blaring in the background.
The half-mile hike to the van waiting for them drained Zayne's waning energy. “I need you to watch my back for blood. Left side.”
Brock groaned. “I knew something was wrong with you.”
“Don't worry. I can hide it once we're with the others. Luke is hurt too.”
Despite the mission going awry, everyone still alive made it to the vehicles on time.
“I'm sorry I didn't reach you during the attack.” Zayne looked down at the ground. “I ran as fast as I could.”
