Predatory

52: No Pressure

DRAKE POV

"How ya holdin' up there, Drake?" Commander Baryshnikov asks from the other side of his bullet train as it hurtles through its tunnel, supposedly towards my parents' underground hideout beneath the mountains of Maine.

"I...don't know," I reply. My fingers tighten around the tablet that's supposed to give me a view of what's going on with Sasha. Static gave way to a visual of what must be her new office at WASP HQ just a couple minutes ago, which was a huge relief. I don't like the looks on her fae assistants' faces, though. Why wouldn't they just let me go with her?!

"Let 'im be," Callum says behind me. "All of us been havin' a rough time, and some of us ain't sure we's doin' the right thing."

"Will you come off it?" Xander demands. "The Elders are on board now. Even if we'd stayed home in Maine and been sensible this whole time, we would've ended up dragged into this revolution whenever and however it was set into motion. Just cuz Drake's got a personal stake in it and you don't like her—"

"Even if we factor out all the lies and manipulation and bullshit she put us all through, fact remains she's been borderline suicidal since she offed Anselm, and I just ain't sure that puttin' our faith in someone who ain't sure she wants to survive this revolution is the best course of action."

"We's all worried about that, t' some extent," Commander Baryshnikov cuts in. "But she's the one top brass wants to see, an' she's the one we got with the skills an' convictions necessary to survive meetin' with top brass at all."

"What you mean? You still ain't told us what she's up against, what the top brass is like."

"An' what would knowin' help ya? Y'all got enough to worry about, an' knowin' what Sasha's up against won't help you or her t'accomplish the tasks before ya. An' besides, this here's our stop."

Sure enough, the bullet train is slowing down. I gather my things, heart in my throat. On the tablet, Sasha's still talking with the fae and Rika and Zoe. So far, everything's fine, and more or less on the schedule we've been planning from.

Which is good, because we just don't have wiggle room in the plan for surprises. Or mistakes.

Another thing Callum's not thrilled about, but with all the pieces of the plan and all the information Commander Baryshnikov was willing to share with us, he couldn't come up with anything better.

I wish Commander Baryshnikov would be more open about the plan, but I understand why he won't. Best that none of us know everything, so that if something goes sideways and any of us get captured, the others have a chance of carrying out their portion of the plans. If even one branch of this multi-pronged plan succeeds, we cripple HQ, as I understand it.

The train hisses to a stop, and the doors glide open. On the other side are my mom and dad, and several other members of the pack.

"Drake!" Mom cries before engulfing me in a hug as I step off the train.

"Hi, Mom. We just talked a couple days ago, if that," I laugh, trying to extricate myself from her iron grip. I can't see my tablet with her squeezing me so tight.

"Welcome home, son," Elder Eric says. A hint of a smile graces his face. "Even if it's only for a few moments."

"Don't talk like that. Let's cherish the time we have," Mom chides.

"Serena, this plan requires—"

"Drake!" my sister Mina's high-pitched squeal assaults my ears, and then she's wrapped around me, all long legs and long hair and tightly wound energy. "Oh my gosh I've missed you so much! And Mom showed me pictures of your mate and she's SO PRETTY!"