Page 30 of Property of Mercury

“She stays on the base channel,” Mercury dictates, his voice gruff as he looks around at the other men. “And if things go south, she doesn't try to play hero. She just calls for backup. Got it?”

I nod, my heart rate steadying. “I'm not looking to get my hands bloody, Mercury. I'm looking for a way to help.”

“Then this is it,” Gemini supplies, clapping a hand on Mercury’s shoulder. “We get you set up with the gear. When that chief calls, you're the first voice he hears.”

I feel a strange sense of relief wash over me. It’s not the frontline action I wanted, but it’s a tether. It keeps me in the loop.

“Let's get inside,” Mercury mutters, turning toward the house. “We've got work to do.”

I fall into step beside him, matching his stride. The sun is setting now, casting long shadows across the yard, but for the first time since I arrived here, I don't feel like I'm hiding. I feel like I'm finally part of the pack. We walk into the living room where the maps are being spread out, and I see the gear waiting they’ll need to take with them on this excursion on the table. It looks like life or death equipment, and now in a sense, it belongs to me too.

I pull out a heavy wooden chair and sink into it. The phone sits in the middle of the scarred table like a loaded weapon. My eyes don't move from the screen. Every second that passes feels like a physical weight pressing against my chest. I want that call to happen right now. I need it to happen. The silence in the room is thick and suffocating. It tastes like copper and stale coffee. The guys are moving around me, their boots heavy on the floorboards, but they're just shadows in my peripheral vision.

I'm tired of being the girl who waits. I'm tired of being the one who gets found. This waiting is a different kind of torture. It's quiet and slow. It gives my brain too much room to breathe and that's never a good thing. I keep seeing the jagged edges of those caves in my mind. I keep thinking about the sensors and the traps. If the chief doesn't call, we're flying blind into a nightmare that's already cost me everything.

Mercury leans over the table and his shadow falls across the phone. He doesn't say anything at first. He just stands there. I can feel the heat radiating off him. He's just as wound up as I am. His fingers twitch near the edge of the map. He wants to be out there. He wants to be hunting. We're all just trapped in this stagnant air until that piece of plastic decides to ring.

“He'll call, Fin,” Mercury says. His voice is low and gravelly. It breaks the silence but it doesn't ease the tension. It just highlights how quiet the rest of the house has become. “He knows it's urgent. They’re being cautious. These people don't ignore a threat on their doorstep.”

“What if he doesn’t?” I ask, not breaking my stare. “What if he tells us to get lost?"

“Then we find another way in,” he states, his jaw tight. “We aren't stopping because they don't call us back.”

I turn, looking up at him. His face is a mask of determination. “It feels like we’re wasting time.”

“It's not wasted time,” he insists, stepping toward me. He places a hand on the back of my chair, his presence a sudden heat against the cold air. “We're gathering intel. We're making sure when we move, we don't trip over our own feet. You know how important that is.”

“I know,” I whisper. “I just hate the waiting.”

“I know you do,” he says. He reaches down and taps the table near the phone. “But you're the one holding the line. Keep your eyes on that thing. The second it rings, you're the first one to know.”

“I won't look away,” I promise.

He nods, his gaze softening just a fraction. “Good. Because I need to know you're ready when the time comes.” My shoulders straighten, an act I know he’ll easily read. It’s one that says I won’t let anything get past me.

CHAPTER

NINETEEN

Mercury

Sutton has food waiting for us, so we fix our plates then head back in to look over the maps while we eat. The topical map is closest to me and I carefully mark the coordinates of both the camouflaged, sealed entryway as well as the trip-wired access point. It’s possible it’s more of a maze beneath the surface, full of honeycombs filled with traps for the unwary individual, but we’re going to be as prepared as we possibly can be.

“Sure as fuck glad that our dads had us practice with night vision goggles,” Aries murmurs as he starts separating the equipment into piles, ensuring that everyone will have the same thing.

“Don’t forget learning Morse code,” Orion tacks on. “Could come in handy if we need to use it instead of speaking.”

“Hand signals, we need to brush up on those as well,” Pisces adds.

“Who knew they were preparing us for a war we had no idea existed?” I ask the group at large.

“After the shit they saw and were forced to do, I know they wanted us to be prepared for anything,” Gemini says. “Once the others get here, we’re going to discuss all of it. While I know it’s not exactly protocol, I want Finley and Sutton to hear it as well. Forewarned is forearmed, after all.”

The man inside of me hates that the women have to hear, in detail, what we found, along with our suppositions about what the den may hold. But I remind myself that both of them are brave and I know they’ll be assets to our endeavor, even if they feel as though they’re mostly on the sidelines. If not for them, as well as Skippy, fuck knows how long this might have continued. Instead, we know the players, or at least the ones who probably started the whole thing.

We just need to find out how many have bought a ‘membership’ to this sick, revolting hunting club. I’m not sure how it can be managed, but if the chief calls us back, it’s possible that he might have some suggestions as to how we can find those who died so they can be properly buried. I suspect we’ll mostly find bleached bones and not even all of them, but if it helps families find out what happened to a loved one, I’ll gladly donate my time to the search and rescue efforts.

Speaking of— “I think that once we get the search and rescue thing off the ground, I want to train with a dog of my own. Maybe a bloodhound or something.”