Page 340 of Immune

Her mouth opens and then closes just as quickly. Then she pulls a keyring from her belt and throws it to Fletcher with conviction. “Old drainage access runs under the generator shed and out past the south service road. If they had the map, they’ll use the industrial estate beyond the quarry. Half the buildings are shielded from aerial sight. We never cleared it properly.”

Fletcher catches the keys effortlessly. “Entrances?”

“Three main. More if the old storm tunnels still hold.”

“Guards?”

“If Vector has it, assume perimeter defense.”

Xeon steps away from the hatch and crouches near the ground. He touches two fingers to a dark smear on the concrete, drawing his hand up to peer at it. I already know it’s blood, and something dark inside me acknowledges that it’s Dakota’s.

My bond reacts so violently I have to lock my knees and clench my jaw so tight that my teeth ache.

Xeon lifts his fingers to his nose and his eyes close as he focuses. When they open again, whatever softness grief might have left in him is gone. There’s nothing soft and quiet about him anymore. “She marked the edge.”

I look quickly and, sure enough, it’s there. Close to the hatch frame, three thin scratches cut through grime and old rust. Not at all random.

Dakota.

Even drugged, hauled over a shoulder and dragged away, she left marks on the world that has done its very best to makeher journey as difficult as it could possibly make it. I’m really starting to understand why she hates the universe so much.

Maine sees it and breaks a little. Only a little. Enough that Ewan’s grip on him turns from impressive restraint to much-needed support.

Fletcher kneels beside the marks and his voice is rough when he mutters, “That’s our girl.”

Ours.

Not owned.

Chosen.

This time, none of us bother to correct it. Because deep down, secretly and without the intention of telling Dakota, she really is ours. Ours to look after, to follow wherever she wants to take us, to make sure she feels safe, and to support whatever choices she makes so she doesn’t feel trapped.

We leave three minutes later without a word of permission. In its place, we take weapons. Valeria is generous enough to load us with ammunition, tunnel routes, and two guards who look more loyal to her than Hale. Mercer gives us filters, stimulant shots, and a small black case of antidotes he admits may only partially counter what Vector used.

“Don’t give her anything until you know what’s in her system,” he warns.

Ewan takes the case. His hands shake once before he stills them. “And if she’s not breathing?”

Mercer’s face tightens. “Then make her breathe until I can.”

No one speaks after that.

We enter the drainage route through a maintenance shaft behind the generator shed. The tunnel smells like rust, wet concrete, rot, and the aftermath of chemical warfare. My bond pulls through it in thin, violent draws.

Fletcher maps as we move, marking each turn with chalk from Mercer’s kit, and Ewan listens with his headphones in place. Without his usual humor, he becomes sharper than anyone would ever expect. Every guard movement above us, every soft faint of an engine shift, every scrape through the tunnel, he catches it.

Maine walks behind him with a shotgun in both hands. You can see the grief in him trying to override everything else, even sense, but he keeps pushing it back. It’s in the way his shoulders straighten when they start curling in on themselves, or the way his face will crumple before a frown appears and stays.

I stay with the bond, tracking it through the tunnel very much like I tracked Dakota after she disappeared from the school. After she vanished from that little house where she patched me up. This seems to be our thing, so I focus on that instead of the anger I can feel pulsing under my skin.

Xeon stays with the signs.

A smear of blood on a pipe edge, black polish scraped against concrete, a torn thread from Dakota’s shirt. One dead Vector soldier shoved into an alcove with his throat cut badly, messily, but effectively.

Even drugged, she fought them. Especially drugged, she gave them hell.

Xeon crouches beside the body. “She had a blade here.”