Into the Fire (Flame in the Shadows Trilogy #1)

39. Mel

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

MEL

I’m not sure whether it was an angel or a demon who brought Tommy following after me back in the caves, but either way, I’m grateful.

As much as I hate to admit it, he was right. I wouldn’t have lasted two seconds out here on my own. Because of his expertise, we might stand a chance at destroying the pathogen.

On the other hand, my life won’t be the only price paid. Now we’ll both die tonight.

Hidden among the trees at the edge of the forest, we have an excellent view of the field where the Organization has camped. Guards are everywhere, patrolling between rows of one-man tents, stoking fires, wending around cars, standing outside a tiny, ramshackle cabin on the far side of the clearing. An unmarked eighteen-wheeler cargo truck is parked in the center of it all, surrounded by grim-faced sentries.

Tommy is half-hidden in shadow beside me, so close I can smell his autumn-and-pine scent on the breeze. There’s enough light emanating from the fires below to see the determination in his narrowed green eyes. The intensity of his focus sharpens his features, turning his beautiful face into something fierce.

The sight leaves me breathless. Even now, on the brink of death.

With a small shake of his head, he whispers, “There are so many.”

“They’re not playing around.”

“No. The pathogen could be anywhere in the truck, by the way.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

The corner of his mouth lifts, but he otherwise ignores my teasing. “It’s going to be almost impossible to get close enough to fire on it.”

“Well, it’d be ideal to get closer, sure, but why can’t we just blow it from here?”

He gives me a wry smile. “You know we’re not in an action movie, right?”

I tilt my head, waiting for him to explain.

“Even if we ignore the fact that we’re way out of range, a grenade can’t blow up a whole truck on its own, not even these high-explosive rounds. At best, we might destroy some of the pathogen, if we’re lucky. We’d probably just give away our position though, and possibly leak BioAgent into the clearing.”

He pauses, pursing his lips as he takes another long look at our target. “We’ll fire at the gas tank. That explosion will kill the pathogen for sure, but to get an accurate shot, we’ll need to move quite a bit closer. We’ll only get one try before they’re on us.”

I glance at the clearing. Guards are everywhere. “But how will we do that without getting caught?”

Tommy takes my icy hands in his. “It’s the only way. If we’re … stealthy enough”—he stumbles over the word, probably because he knows I’m not up to the task—“we might stand a chance.”

I bite my lip, cheeks hot. How awful. The fate of thousands rests on my ability to sneak.

“You can do this.” Tommy gives my hands a squeeze. “Remember the day we met, when we raced through the woods? This is like that. Focus on your breathing, let your body take over. Don’t overthink. Trust yourself.”

Tommy’s eyes burn, twin emerald flames in the night. There’s an air to him I’ve never sensed before: a vitality, an openness, some kind of profound release. It’s like a shadow’s lifted off him, and for the first time, I can see his full, vibrant color, the shining kaleidoscope that is his magnificent soul.

In a few minutes, that soul will cease to exist. What a sad, beautiful thing to have escaped his pain just in time to die.

Throat tight, I nod.

“Follow me. Move how I move, when I move. You’ll have to trust me. We can’t blow our cover to check the guards’ positions, but I’ll be listening for them.” He taps his ear.

With a reluctant smile, I say, “Trust you? Ugh. We’re doomed.”

He rolls his eyes, humor tugging at his flawless lips. “Ha-ha. Are you ready? We shouldn’t wait. Every second counts.”

I throw my arms around his neck, leaning up on my toes to give him a quick, soft kiss. One last embrace to carry with me as I meet my end. I breathe in his woodsy scent as I whisper, “I’m ready.”

Tommy winds his arms around my waist, gorgeous eyes glowing. His sweet, shy smile knocks me senseless.

I love him so. Deep in my bones, and with everything I am. I don’t know how I haven’t disintegrated from the force of it.

“Okay then. Let’s get this done,” he growls, dark and intense. The way he looks right now…

Heat floods my system. Tommy’s smile turns a bit smug as I hesitate, aching to pull him closer, knowing I shouldn’t.

Not here, not now.

“There’s no time,” he murmurs, and I’m thrilled by the rough edge that’s crept into his voice, by the way his eyes smolder as they flick to my mouth. “Later. When we make it out alive.”

With a steadying breath, I drop my arms and step back. “When we make it out.”

Tommy brushes his fingers lightly down my cheek, eyes brimming with emotion. Then he’s gone, pacing away toward the clearing.

Absolutely silent, he slinks from the trees with me hot on his heels. Somehow, he finds the darkest, emptiest route through the city of tents. His every movement flows like water in a stream. Graceful, mesmerizing. I try to copy the way he rolls into his movements, almost melting into each step, each turn.

On several occasions, Tommy throws out an arm, signaling me to stop. We freeze, listening together to the soft steps of the guards, to their muted conversations. When the coast is clear, Tommy motions and we creep forward again. Slowly, painfully slowly, the truck looms closer.

Just when I think we can’t possibly go farther thanks to the guards surrounding every inch of the semi, Tommy halts behind one of the dark tents.

“We’re plenty close enough.” He’s barely audible over the chilly wind whipping around us. Tendrils of hair pull free of my braid and lash across my face as panic sears through my chest.

This is it. Our last chance to turn back. Every fiber of my being pulls toward the dark forest, toward safety, but I can’t give in. I’m all that stands between life and death for thousands of innocent people. I will not fail them.

Tommy indicates the grenade launcher at my hip. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

“Sam taught me the theory.”

Although Tommy has helped hone my skill with handguns over the last few months, Sam took it upon himself to teach me about as many other types of weapons as possible, from daggers to machine guns to this. We’ve practiced nearly every day since I volunteered to lead the video mission, but I didn’t spend long with the M320. I never expected to need it.

“Will you do it?” I ask, my breaths starting to come faster. “I might miss, I might screw it up, I might?—”

“Shh.” Tommy cuts me off, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “You’ve earned the right to take this shot. I know you can do it. I’m right here with you, whatever happens.”

With shaking hands, I pull the grenade launcher free of its holster. The arctic breeze stings my exposed skin as I snap the handle out and flick the sights into place. I have to pause and swallow the dryness in my mouth before I pop the launcher open and slide a grenade in. My heart thunders as I click off the safety.

“Mel,” Tommy murmurs, just loud enough for me to hear over the howling wind. I turn toward him, the air rasping too quickly up and down my desiccated throat.

His eyes are warm and glazed with grief. It’s not the same sadness I’ve seen there before. This grief isn’t painful; it isn’t tortured. This grief is sweet. Full of support. Of love.

The unconditional kind.

I’m right here with you.

My heart shimmers. Stings. When I fire this shot, I will give away our position. The guards will be on us before we can move.

These are our last … our last moments…

“I love you, Mel.”

Tommy’s words whisper through the wind, stretching across the space between us to wrap around my heart. Glittering warmth blooms in my chest, swelling until it blocks my throat.

I stare at him, at the wet now swimming in his stunning eyes, and it hits me again, harder this time, more painful than a deathblow. When I pull the trigger, I will not be the only one to die.

Anguish rips through me as a hundred beautiful pictures flash in my mind. Tommy, flushed and roaring with laughter; the way his green-and-gold eyes dance when he teases me; that heart-melting, shy smile; pages and pages of sketches, haunting in their beauty; the grace with which he moves. Tommy diving in front of a bullet to save me. His hands gliding over my skin; those tempting lips—everywhere; the fire in his eyes when he gave in to my pleas; the way he breathed my name, like a prayer.

Am I strong enough? Can I give, not only my life, but his life, his infinitely precious life, to save nameless and faceless people?

Could I live with myself if I let them die, knowing I could have prevented it?

Tears well up and spill over, dripping down my cheeks. “I love you too, Tommy.”

Tommy smiles through his own tears, glowing with quiet joy. He doesn’t speak. He just nods once.

It’s time, he seems to say.

Dragging in a breath, I tear my eyes from his and raise the launcher. My arms tremble so hard I can barely keep my grip on it.

“Range is about fifty meters,” Tommy breathes in my ear. “See the silver cylinder, there, under the semi’s cabin? You want to aim for that. Don’t forget to account for the wind.”

I peer through the sight, lining up the shot according to Tommy’s information.

“Easy,” he cautions. “Wait until you’re sure you’ve got a line on it.”

I gulp down the icy air, working to still the shaking in my hands. My finger twitches on the trigger.

Snap.

A twig. Someone’s behind us.

Abruptly, a thick, hairy arm is around my neck and my feet dangle off the ground. The launcher’s muzzle swings out as the trigger slides home, sending the grenade rocketing over the truck and into the forest behind the tents. I drop the launcher and yelp, thrashing against the man now pinning me to his doughy abdomen while the grenade explodes harmlessly in the woods. I can’t see Tommy, but I hear him struggling too. The man squeezes tighter … tighter…

Black oblivion descends. I fight viciously against the chokehold, my vision flagging. I can’t … I can’t … see…