“And that was…?” I prompt, already realizing the answer.
Haskal grins. “Keep tabs on Miss Nautia Olson—aquator extraordinaire. Piss her off if I can. Cara guaranteed my safety through this.” Haskal turns his leg to the side. Just above his ankle is a jagged, red scar. “It was a tracking device.”
“Was?”
Haskal nods his chin at me. “Yeah. Was. I cut it out the first night you almost killed us.”
“Killed you,” I clarify.
“Wow. What changed your mind?” Kray asks, inching toward me.
“What good is five million when you don’t have a life to live? Fuck the tracker. Had Nautia succeeded, I would have been dead long before Cara found me. Nautia is crazy powerful. More than Cara, which is why she’s threatened by you. You have the juice to beat her, and she doesn’t like competition.”
“Did she tell you her plans? Why she wanted you to spy on Nautia?” Riley asks.
“No, and I didn’t ask.”
“You didn’t ask?” I choke out. “Because spying on me and pissing me off is a completely normal thing for a trainer to request?”
“How many times do I have to say ‘five million dollars and a ticket out’? Besides, it was Cara. Like Britta, who strangely had something intelligent to add, said, Brighton trainers are trustworthy. I assumed she was protecting you.”
Britta glares at him, then flips him off. He blows her a kiss.
“Yeah, well if that’s true, she’s got a strange way of going about it,” I mutter.
“How do we know Haskal is telling the truth?” Gibson asks. “Where’s the tracking device now?”
“Kray?” Riley says.
“Seems to be,” Kray answers cautiously, eyes digging into the accused. “The tracking device is at the bottom of the ocean, a good five hundred miles back.”
“Not far enough,” I say.
“You didn’t catch anything suspicious from him before?” Gibson asks.
“Dude, I try really hard to stay out of Haskal’s head. You have no idea the shit rolling around in there. It’s enough to make a sailor blush—no offense,” he adds, nodding toward Riley.
Gibson huffs. “So we just have to trust he’s on our side?”
“He’s as good as dead if he isn’t,” Riley says. “And if we don’t work together, we’ll all be dead. Cara leaves no survivors. I’m sorry to say, Haskal, your five million and name erased isn’t going to happen either way.”
“Yeah, I wondered if I’d be sideswiped. Like Cara, I needed leverage. Why do you think I gave Nautia the information I stole from Cara?”
Riley looks at Kray, who gives a nod back. “I’m not a lie detector, but that seems legit.”
A few moments of silence tick by as Riley studies Haskal. “I’ll be watching you very closely, Smith.”
“Aren’t you already?”
Riley’s gaze lands on me for a second before he spans out to the group. “We technically have six weeks left out here for training. Cara expects an attack around September third, but we’re not going to give that to her. We’ll strike on August eighteenth—two weeks early.”
“Element of surprise. I like it. But that only gives us four more weeks to train. Will that be enough time?” Gibson asks.
“It’ll have to be. If Cara has her North Korean contacts in the know, and we have to assume she does, they’ll be unprepared. We need to be prepared.”
Britta straightens, turning to Kray. “We’ll work until sunset every night.”
“We’ll all work until sunset every night,” Riley confirms. “Hone your skills, personally and as a group. Any downtime should be spent in the shooting range. Starting today, early training is over. Today, you’ll take what you’ve learned and apply it. Today, we’re starting simulations.”
“I can’t feel my arms,” Britta says, curling and uncurling her fingers into fists. “This vest is so heavy. Why do I even have to wear it?”
Gibson readjusts the straps at her waist and has her turn around to check the fit. “Because it’s bulletproof.”
She points to her forehead. “Then what about this? Do I get to wear bulletproof ski mask too?”
“Free advice, sweetheart: if you see a red laser pointing at your head, duck,” Haskal says, holstering his simulation gun. “You coming in too, Captain?”
“I’m part of the team,” I reply.
“But won’t you know what’s coming since you designed the simulation?” Gibson asks.
I recheck Britta’s gear. Hand her a gun that’s a replica of the ones we’ll be using in the field. “No. I programmed the computer to think on its own. Throw out over a thousand different scenarios based on our actions and reactions in the previous one. I’ll be in the dark about what’s coming next too.”
I’m about to explain how the computer can choose multiple scenarios at the same time and in different locations, when Kray and Nautia walk in. They’re dressed like the rest of us: black pants, long-sleeved black shirts, and black military-issued Kevlar vests. But Nautia has her hair over one shoulder in a ponytail, just like last night, and she looks stunning. Dark clothing with her blue-green eyes—my mouth goes dry.
She catches me staring, but she doesn’t look away. Instead, she saunters over and turns to so that her hip pops out. “Is this on right? It feels loose.”
I move to her back and check the latch of her holster. “You missed a loop,” I say as I unclasp the buckle. She twists and throws a glance over her shoulder to watch what I’m doing.
This isn’t the time or place for the throb I feel in my pants, so I don’t look at her. I keep my eyes on what I’m doing—and on the sliver of bronzed skin that peeks out over her waistband. Gently, I let the tips of my fingers slip over the exposed flesh as I slide the belt out of position and back into the missed loop. She stiffens at my touch.
“Sorry,” I mutter, even though I’m not. In fact, I’d like to get more of my hands on her. I tighten the buckle, her body jerking a little as I do. “Tight enough?”
“Yeah. It’s good,” she replies, still studying me.
I clear my throat to wipe the image of her naked body from my mind and finally meet her gaze. Pink lips taunt me as she bites into them. “Good. Your equipment needs to stay secure.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
I nod toward the table Kray’s at. “Pick two weapons. A gun and a knife.”
After everyone is loaded and ready, I explain the parameters. The logistics of using their abilities. And what happens if they die while inside. But nothing I say can mentally prepare them for what they’ll experience.
“You said the computer knows when we get shot and will erase us. How?” Kray asks when I finish.
“Before the simulation begins, each of us will provide a drop of blood into the input panel. The computer then reads your DNA and tailors the situation to you personally.”
“Wow. Military technology,” he says.
“I don’t expect the first try to be perfect, but I do expect everyone to stick to the plan. Speak into your earpieces and communicate with each other as if this is North Korean territory. And even though this is a simulation, it won’t feel like a simulation.”
A quick glance at Nautia tells me she’s uneasy about this new revelation; she has a sudden interest in the floor.
“It’s only temporary, though,” I add for her benefit. “The effects wear off as soon as the simulation ends.”
She peers up at me, her expression unreadable. I want to tell her she’ll be okay. That I’ll take care of her. My stare hangs on her too long, until the sound of Kray clearing his throat rips my attention to him.
“What are these bracelets?” he says, holding up his wrist.
From my peripheral vision, I notice Nautia looking up at me now, curious as well.
“Those are your Digis.
They track body temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and location,” I explain.
“A fancy tracking device?” Haskal groans. “Because the government needs more information on our whereabouts.”
“Actually, that information will only been seen by other members of this team. All the Digis are linked, and the signals are transmitted to Britta and Kray’s computer. Along with translation and lookout duties, they will be in charge of monitoring the team.”
“Heart rate. Body temperature,” Kray reasons out loud. “We’re in charge of monitoring who’s still alive and who’s not.”
“Yes,” I answer simply.
I allow the weight of that to hang in the air for a moment, because it should. This isn’t a game, and the sooner they understand that, the more serious they’ll take the simulations. I will always, always work my ass off to bring home every person on my team. But the reality is, everyone may not return to USS Triton.
“All right. The best way to learn is by doing, so let’s get in there. Keep your eyes open, chatter with each other, and don’t stray from the plan unless otherwise told. Understood?”
Nerves, I’m guessing, keeps everyone’s mouths closed as they all bob their heads slightly. Haskal cracks his knuckles. Britta restlessly plays with a strand of her hair, and Nautia’s eyes lock onto mine. A small swell of water laps over her pupils, thin white lines stretching across the blue. That, combined with a lip curled between her teeth makes her as sexy as hell.
When I said I didn’t expect perfection on the first attempt, I’d extended that to myself as well. This plan will only work if each of us succeeds at our tasks and doesn’t try to play the hero. I’ll have to fight my urges to jump in and save Nautia when she’s in trouble. Within the simulation, I’ll have to watch her die. On the field, though? Her life comes before mine.
I lead my team to the input panel on the south wall. It’s voice activated. Once unlocked, it does a retina scan to give me complete access. I go first as an example.
“Captain. Riley. Barton. ID number 964. 311. 5662.”
A moment later, a glass tube emerges, and I place my index finger inside. A small light tells me the laser is finished drawing the necessary one drop of blood. I remove my finger and wait.
“DNA approved and registered,” the computer says, and I move aside.
Gibson is my second-in-command inside the simulations. He’s next, repeating what I just did.
“DNA approved and registered.”
Haskal, Kray, and Britta follow suit. Nautia is last.
“Special. Officer. Nautia. Olson. ID number 234. 441. 9006.”
She places her finger into the channel. A full minute passes, and the computer doesn’t respond. Nautia’s eyes snap to me, a concerned glint passing over her features. Finally, the light comes on, and Nautia whips her hand back. She examines the pad of her finger, which is bright red. Probably from several drops of blood removed.
“DNA registered,” the computer confirms.
“Wait. It’s registered, but not approved?” Kray asks, coming forward to look over Nautia’s shoulder at the screen. “What does that mean?”
I slide in between Nautia and the computer. Enter password after password to get into the system. I find Nautia’s newly created file. Inside is a 3D image of her DNA. The strand spins slowly, showing me all of the details and protein bonds. But then it changes. Mixes up, and I feel my eyes widen at what I see. How the hell?
I keep the anomaly to myself, needing time to process it first. Right now, I say, “She’s approved.”
“Why wasn’t she earlier?” Kray insists.
“A small piece of her DNA wasn’t detected by the system, so I had to manually override it,” I half-lie, making sure to block the whole truth from Kray’s nosy brain search. It should be up to Nautia whether or not she tells him. Or it should at least come from her head when he sniffs out the details.
“All right. Everyone inside the red line,” I command.
They shuffle inside and stand as a group at the center of the room. Silence drops in around us.
I straighten and project my voice out. “Simulation begin: TorpMissionTwo 034411.”
Not even Riley knows what will be thrown at us, so we huddle together as the room goes black. My palms sweat. I wipe them on my pants to deter my mind from whatever scene will be presented to us. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work. My heart hammers against my ribs.
Calm down. Breathe. Slow your heart rate.
I suck in a lungful of air. Blowing it out, I catch the soft sound of the incoming tide. Then I feel it—actually feel the water push up over the top of my shoes. Light slowly emerges in the form of a starlit sky and full moon. The scent of saltwater is carried along a cool breeze that rushes over my skin. It’d be refreshing if it weren’t Yun Ji-jin’s territory.
We’re here to make sure his command stays only on this strip of land, I remind myself. The thought doesn’t soothe my nerves, though. I walk backwards over sand and bump into Kray.
“Something tells me this isn’t Plage de Tahiti,” he says. “And I’m pretty sure I’d rather be at Plage de Tahiti right now.”
We’ve just swum to shore from the submarine. I hold out both palms to my teammates and evaporate the water off them.
“All right. There’s a North Korean military base just north of us,” Riley says, pointing toward a large group of lights. “The weapons facility, however, is at the center of the city. Keep your heads down and remain out of sight. Britta and Kray, two miles from here is a hotel the government has closed off. That’s where you two will need to set up your equipment. Let’s move out.”
Kray and I have to split up. My hand trembles in his, not wanting to let go.
“Just follow orders, okay?” he says. “Barton will keep you safe.”
“What about you?”
The corner of his mouth curves up. “Don’t worry. I have Britta.”
The wink he sends me isn’t funny. He presses a kiss to my forehead and peels my hand from his. Offering no more reassurance, he follows Riley up the beach. Eyes wide, scanning the beach like I’m a surveillance camera, I jog beside him. Britta trudges behind the group until Gibson drops back and takes the heavy backpack from her.
As he does, she stops. “I hear voices,” she says. She pauses for a moment, listening. “I can’t make out words, but they’re coming from the north.”
“Get down,” Riley commands.
We all obey, crouching down to the sand. Kray looks at me, but he’s not seeing me; he’s concentrating on the direction Britta indicated, attempting to dig into the minds accompanying the voices.
“They know we’re here,” Britta whispers, giving us the Cliffs Notes translation. “They’re searching for us.”
“You catching anything, Kray?” Riley asks.
“Yeah,” Kray says, turning his attention to Britta. Then he spouts off Korean to her like he’s spoken it since birth. Her brow just furrows in response.
“You just listed off breakfast foods,” she quips, annoyed. “Are you sure you heard their thoughts correctly?”
“They’re muffled because they’re far away. It’s the best I can do,” he counters. A moment of silence passes before Kray holds up a hand to her. “Hang on. I hear more.” This time he puts more emphasis on the enunciation.
“They’re calling for backup. Six vehicles,” Britta translates the thoughts Kray stole. “We need to get out of here.”
“Nautia,” Riley says, his golden irises holding me in place. Fear cuts the oxygen from my lungs. “Can you take them out?”
“I can try,” I murmur.
You’re doing this for Nate.
I lift my hands out to the ocean. I concentrate on one section of water, in a twenty-foot expanse. It’s pitch-black out here; by the time they see the wave, they won’t be able to outrun it.
Until it stops.
“Idonghaji anhseubnida,” a voice demands.
“Don’t move,” Britta translates unnecessarily.
I feel the cool barrel of the gun against my temple before I hear the click. The sound echoes all around me like thunder.
Terror seizes me, striking me to the bone. Instinct tells me to keep raising the wave. My eyes flick over to Riley for direction, and he gives a tiny bob of the head. We’re in sync, reading each other’s minds without having the power.
I close my eyes and force all of my energy into my outstretched fingers. I don’t have to see the wave building to know it’s happening; I experience it deep in my core. When it’s ready, I open my eyes and release the beast.
Shouts ring out around me, and everything happens in slow motion.
“Geudeul-eul jug-yeo,” the soldiers yell.
I jerk around just in time to see one of them place the barrel of his gun against Kray’s head and pull the trigger. Wide pupils lock with mine for a split second before my friend’s body topples onto the sand.
“Noooo!” I scream. Heat runs like lava through my veins, and I don’t think.
I whip an arm upward, knocking away the gun at my temple. Springing to my feet, I throw both hands out to my sides as I channel the ocean behind me. Below me, Riley rolls over the sand, shooting at Ji-jin’s army. One of them has Britta by the hair, holding her up off the ground. Her screams ring out, piercing my eardrums and fueling the power within me. One shot, and her chin slumps forward on her chest.
Haskal holds out a dead soldier in front of him, using him as a shield, and Gibson has one of his hands raised into the air, a dozen weapons spinning above him. More shots zip past us from the south as the backups arrive. Gibson sweeps his arm in their direction, stopping a mass of bullets, but he’s defenseless against the one coming in from the east. Blood splatters onto my vest as Gibson falls to the ground at my feet.
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