door with the robot arm. It was unlocked. Given the blasting cord, the unlocked door was by design.
And suddenly, Luca knew what was waiting for them.
Even as he piloted the robot forward, he backed up, walking blindly as he kept his eyes on the screen.
Hands grabbed him, guiding him back, and then there were people around him…protecting him.
“There’s going to be a fire bomb inside,” Luca murmured. He didn’t realize he was speaking in Italian until he heard someone repeating what he’d said in English. Since there was someone to translate, he didn’t bother wasting the brain power and kept speaking in Italian.
“You see it?” Owen asked.
“No, but I know…it’s something they taught us.” He divorced himself emotionally from what he was saying. The world had narrowed, focused to just him and the small, blurry screen. He found the pressure plate, hidden under the corner of an industrial-style rug, a mat put down to keep the floors from becoming wet or muddy when it rained.
It took him several tense minutes, but he carefully disconnected the det cord from the pressure plate.
“You step on the pressure plate and the det cord explodes. The door collapses. You’re trapped inside. Then…”
He flipped the rug aside and followed four thinner ignition wires. It took some maneuvering before he found where they went up the walls, where they were connected to long black boxes mounted where wall met ceiling. They looked like they could have been some odd heating or cooling element, the wires added to an older building, on the walls rather than in them.
“Then the fire bombs ignite. They’re filled with gas that drops even as it ignites. You’re trapped inside a burning building.”
Luca pulled the robot back and, one by one, cut the wires.
“It wasn’t enough for you to die. They wanted you to burn.” Luca looked up, blinking to focus his eyes. Around him, people were looking back with expressions ranging from grim to horrified. “To suffer as you died. To burn in hell for your sins.”
Chapter Eighteen
Oscar sat on the floor of the van, his feet on the ground outside the open door. Jennika, the woman from NSA, had outfitted both him and Selene with earpieces so that they could hear what was happening on the compound after Oscar had apparently hit the limit on times he could ask her “what the fuck is going on now?”
After that, he’d begun pacing outside the van, listening with his heart in his throat as Luca and Langston drove their robots through the compound to the buildings. He’d spent every single second holding his breath, waiting for an explosion, fearing one misstep that might steal his brother or his lover from him forever.
He’d never liked Langston’s chosen career path, though he’d never said as much to his brother. He, Langston, and Walt were all too much alike, marching to the beat of their own drums. So Oscar understood that, like it or not, he had no choice but to accept that Langston was going to spend his life working with bombs. Reckless fucker.
And because fate was a heartless bitch, she decided to have even more fun at Oscar’s expense, ensuring he fell in love with a man who did the exact same goddamn thing.
Oscar’s legs had finally given out when he heard Luca describe how the Bellator Dei had intended to kill them all with fire.
He’d sunk down in the open door of the van, sitting with his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground.
Selene had been silent and intent throughout the entire operation, standing as he paced, and now sitting next to him. Though she hadn’t said a word, he felt bolstered by her presence, drawing strength from her closeness.
He wasn’t sure how she knew he didn’t want to talk. Their time together had been ridiculously short, yet he felt like this amazing woman knew him better than people he’d known his entire life. She definitely understood him better than Faith.
Faith.
Up until a month ago, he couldn’t think of her name without a piercing pain stabbing at his heart. Now…now it was as if the blinders had been lifted and he was suddenly seeing things he’d never noticed before.
Faith couldn’t stand the times when he went quiet as he dealt with anxiety or stress. He wasn’t the type of guy who talked out his emotions. Talking about shit like that just made him more anxious and pissed him off. He’d always preferred to deal with the bad stuff on his own,