Rogue (Talon 2)

“But,” he went on as I relaxed a bit, “that doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous. These types of missions usually go one of two ways: without a hitch, or spectacularly wrong. Hopefully, we’ll be able to sneak in, find what we want and tiptoe away without anyone knowing we were there. That’s the best-case scenario. I think you can guess the worst-case scenario. So, on that note…” He held out a pistol to me. “Ever shot one of these?”

Numbly, I shook my head. I’d handled a gun before, both in my training with Lilith and then briefly when I’d disarmed the Glock aimed at my face, but I’d never fired one. Certainly not at a living creature.

Riley smiled grimly. “If it gets to the point where we’re shooting at people, then the mission is FUBAR and we need to get out of there as fast as we can.” He held up the weapon. “These are only to be used as the very last resort. But if the mission does go south, you’re going to want something to defend yourself with. The problem with claws and teeth is that you have to get in close to attack, and that might be tricky if they’re all firing M-16s at you.”

“I’ve never fired a gun before, Riley. I don’t even know if I could…shoot someone. Not for real. I’ve never killed anyone before.”

Riley’s lip curled in a hard smile. “Yeah, well, you’re gonna have to get over that, Firebrand,” he stated bluntly. “We might not be part of Talon anymore, but St. George doesn’t give a damn about that little fact. To them, all dragons are the same. Rogue, hatchling or Viper, it makes no difference to the Order. They’ll kill us regardless of faction or sympathies.” He lowered the gun, his gaze almost accusing. “This is still a war, but we aren’t just fighting one side anymore. Not only do we have to be on the lookout for St. George—Talon will be breathing down our necks, as well. We kind of got the shit end of both sticks, if you haven’t noticed by now.”

I blinked, stunned. I’d never heard Riley sound so bitter. Although, ever since we’d left Crescent Beach, he’d seemed…different. More serious and take-charge. This was not the cocky, insufferable, devil-may-care rogue I’d met before. He was not the mysterious lone rebel I’d thought he was, but the leader of an entire rogue underground, with who knew how many dragons and humans depending on him. I suspected now that the dragon I’d met in Crescent Beach had been putting on a show, a mask, the perfect identity for the current situation. I wondered, yet again, if the Riley I faced now was the real one.

At my silence, Riley gave me a weary, sympathetic look, his voice going softer.

“Sorry, Firebrand. I didn’t mean to jump down your throat like that. I know you’ve never killed anyone, and I don’t expect you to. Not tonight, anyway.” He sighed and raked his hair back. “I’ve just…seen a lot, you understand? From Talon and St. George. I’ve lost friends and hatchlings to both organizations, and some days it feels like I’m pushing a boulder up a never-ending cliff, and if I let up for one second, it’ll roll back and crush me.” His brow furrowed and his eyes darkened as he looked away. “One day it will roll back and crush me.”

His gaze flicked back to mine. “What I’m trying to say is, if you’re going to stand against Talon, you have to do whatever it takes to stay alive. And one day, that might involve shooting someone. Or incinerating them. Or tearing them apart. Yeah, it’s ugly, it’s messy and it’s not fair, but that’s the truth of it. This is our world, Firebrand. This is the world you live in now.” He held the gun out to me once more. “Unless you want to go back.”

I swallowed. “No,” I said, and reached out for the weapon, curling my fingers around the hard metal. “I’m not going back.” Riley tossed me a holster as well, and I slipped it around my shoulder, feeling the weight of the gun, cold and deadly, against my ribs. I hoped I would never have to use it.

“All right.” Riley shut the van and looked toward the distant base. I saw him take a short, furtive breath, as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I think we’re about ready. Just remember…” He shot a firm glare in my direction. “We do this my way. If I tell you to do something, don’t question it. Don’t even think about it. Just do it, understand?”

I nodded. Riley glanced at Wes, who watched him with the grave, resigned expression of someone who thought they might never see him again. “We’re going. If I give the word, get out and don’t look back. Wish us luck.”

“Luck?” Wes muttered, shaking his head. “You don’t need luck. You need a bloody miracle.”

And on that inspiring note, we started across the desert.

Riley

One mile to the gates of hell.

I shoved the thought away as I led Ember across the dusty plains, heading closer to that ominous glow looming ahead of us. Fear and second thoughts were dangerous now. This insane rescue was officially under way, and I had to focus on what was important; namely, getting us in and out without being discovered and gunned down. When I was a Basilisk, I’d been taught never to ask questions or think too hard about what I was doing. I didn’t need to know the whys, I just needed to complete the missions.

Of course, it was when I’d started asking questions that I’d realized I couldn’t be part of Talon anymore.

Ember walked behind me, silent in her black Viper’s outfit, gliding over the sand like a shadow. She made no noise, moving like a Basilisk herself, graceful and sure without even realizing it. Lilith had taught her well. The only thing she hadn’t taught her was the Vipers’ ruthlessness, that apathy toward killing that Vipers were known—and feared—for. I was glad of it, but at the same time, I knew it wouldn’t last. Not in our world. There was too much at stake. Too many factions that wanted us dead, too many people to try to protect. Eventually, the day would come when Ember would have to kill someone and when it did, she would have to make a choice as to what kind of dragon, and person, she really was. I just hoped it wouldn’t change her too drastically.

“You’re about two hundred yards from the fence.” Wes’s voice buzzed in my ear, courtesy of the wire I was wearing. Part of the package I’d picked up in L.A. “No security cameras as far as I can tell, but be careful.”

“Got it.”

We reached the perimeter fence, nothing heavy duty or unusual, just simple chain link topped with barbed wire. Signs reading Private Property and Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted hung from the links every thirty or so feet, but there was nothing to indicate that a heavily armed military compound lay beyond. St. George was nearly as good as Talon when it came to hiding in plain sight, as private armies were sort of frowned on by the United States government. The bases where the soldiers were housed used isolation and misdirection to stay off the radar of those that might take issue with a large number of armed fanatics squatting on US soil.