16 Hours Before the Mission
"Your objective is straightforward."
Zane's voice cut clean through the quiet room, "We need to extract a rebel prisoner. He holds information worth any sacrifice."
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly as Zane's gaze shifted, lingering almost purposefully on the tall, masked figure by the window.
Aiden shifted his weight slightly, arms crossed as he listened. Beside him, the old warrior woman adjusted her stance with the slow grace of someone used to long briefings. The survivalist gave a small nod, face unreadable beneath the shadow of his hood.
Zane pressed on. "The plan consists of four steps." His voice carried weight. "This is a stealth operation. We are not in a position to brute force our way through."
Aiden frowned slightly but stayed quiet.
Zane pointed to the crude map spread across the desk. "First, insertion. Four of you will approach the outpost from the east through forested terrain. Avoid patrols. Stay quiet."
His gaze slid to the masked man, holding there. "This is our special operative — your support and organizer for this mission."
His tone hardened subtly, as if even he disliked this part. "He will provide whatever materials or tools are needed. Do not ask him questions directly. That is the only rule."
A heavy pause followed. The others glanced at the masked man, but no one spoke. Aiden studied him again, uneasy. Support? Organizer? Helper, Zane had said, but that was a lie. It was obvious who held the real weight here. This was not Zane's mission. It was his.
Zane did not linger. He returned to the map and tapped it. "Like I said, four steps."
"First, infiltration. You'll bypass the outpost and reach the teleporter, linked directly to the prison."
Aiden's jaw tightened. Another teleporter and a prison? His mind raced back to where he had first woken. Was it the same kind of place? The idea sat heavy, but he stayed quiet.
Zane continued. "The outpost is guarded by Silver Watch troops. The exact number unknown"
That earned a grunt from the old woman.
"So how do we get past them?" asked the survivalist.
"Simple," Zane said coldly. "You'll be going undercover as morgue service."
The room fell still. Aiden felt his stomach twist. He did not like undercover work.
Zane pressed on. "You'll pose as handlers sent to retrieve bodies from the prison. It is routine enough not to draw suspicion."
"Once inside, your objective shifts. Locate the prisoner. The exact cell number will be provided later. Once found, make him appear dead. Drug him, choke him unconscious, whatever it takes."
Aiden's eyes narrowed.
"After that, transport him out with the other corpses."
Zane paused, then his tone darkened. "There is a possibility he will not be able to leave willingly."
The room tensed.
"Injury. Restraints. Mental collapse. If he can't comply, your priority shifts. Take the information directly. Any means necessary."
The silence deepened. Kill him if necessary, without hesitation.
Zane straightened. "But the biggest problem lies in infiltration and retrieval." He tapped the map. "Limited intel. Layout, patrol patterns are vague at best."
"Still, the plan is viable. Risky, but possible. However, uncertainty means danger."
Before anyone could speak, Lyanna's voice broke the silence. "Then what are our exact roles?"
Aiden looked at Lyanna. From what he remembered, she wasn't meant to be involved. So why was she here?
Zane did not hesitate. "You will lead the team once inside. Full authority. I trust your judgment."
Lyanna nodded, slipping into a composed stance.
Zane looked to the old warrior woman. "Thara, you'll be the heavy. Guards expect tired and rough cleaners. Intimidate. Make them too wary or indifferent to dig deeper."
Thara smiled faintly. "Simple enough."
Zane turned to the survivalist. "Garron, subtlety is your task. Make the prisoner pass for dead. Drugs or restraints, whatever works."
Garron nodded silently.
Aiden took it all in. Thara — intimidation. Garron — subduing. Lyanna — leadership. And him?
Zane did not specify. Instead, he addressed them all. "Once you're out, no complications should arise. The Silver Watch cannot interfere once you enter the prison. Tools and plans will be ready within the hour. Take the night to rest. We leave at four in the morning."
The dismissal was clear.
Thara and Garron left first, quiet and efficient. Lyanna lingered. Her gaze did not leave Zane.
"Are you sure about this mission?" she asked quietly.
Zane's mask faltered slightly, but his reply was firm. "I am." Yet his tightened jaw said otherwise.
Lyanna didn't argue. She nodded and left.
Aiden stayed. Alone with Zane and the masked man. The air felt heavier.
He hesitated, then spoke. "Lyanna wasn't supposed to be part of this."
Zane stayed silent.
Aiden pressed. "She told me herself that she was unclear on the details."
He pushed further. "Selina wanted in, but Lyanna did not seem interested. So why now?"
Zane's jaw tightened.
"She wasn't part of the team," he admitted finally. "Not until a few hours ago."
"What changed?"
"One of the original members was injured. Attacked at home."
Aiden sharpened his gaze. "Attacked?"
"Not random. Perfect timing. Lyanna volunteered immediately. I couldn't stop her."
Aiden processed that silently.
"Are you suspecting someone?" he asked.
Zane met his gaze. "This mission was classified. Too few knew. Too rare to be coincidence."
"There is a traitor among the group."
Aiden did not speak.
"I don't know who," Zane said. "But you're not among the suspects."
"Why?"
"I know more than you realize," Zane answered quietly. "I'm trusting you to watch them."
Aiden understood. Watch. Decide. Act.
But there was still one point.
"Should I consider your sister a suspect as well?"
Zane did not answer immediately. His mask slipped.
"...We need to be cautious," he said finally. "Look at everyone as a potential suspect."
Even family. Even her.
Aiden nodded faintly. He turned toward the door.
Just before he left, his eyes shifted to the masked man. Still motionless. Watching or maybe not.
Who is he, really?
The question lingered, heavier than it should.
If Zane was willing to risk so much, what were the true stakes here?
Aiden pushed the thought down. No use chasing ghosts.
With a quiet breath, he stepped through the door.