He still didn’t know who they were beneath their black masks. It could be Nathan, the sniper, under one. Or Oliver, the fighter, under another. Although, he doubted that simply because he figured now, he might know them just by being near them. He knew at least one was a woman considering her smaller build, and curves that were accentuated by the tight, black clothing. But that was as much as he knew—they didn’t speak unless they absolutely had to, and he was sure their voices were not the same when they gave orders as it was when they were joking down in one of the communal areas of the complex.
Corrado tried damn hard not to show how seeing the team at his rooms made him feel—tight in his chest, and like a deadweight had come to rest in his stomach. He was not doing those fucking rooms again. He had news for them, if that’s what they thought.
“Are you listening?” Cree asked.
Corrado’s gaze cut back to the man in question. “No.”
Cree’s expression didn’t change.
Nothing new there.
“The last month—three weeks, give or take, but who wants to be specific?—you’ve been struggling,” Cree noted.
“And?”
“What is it you need, hmm?” Cree tipped his head to the side, considering Corrado as he said, “Your brother wanted contact with his parents ... he needed motivation, we’ll say. He earned it, and got what he wanted. Did you know that?”
“And?” Corrado asked again.
Because yes, he did know. And no, he didn’t see what it mattered.
Chris was Chris.
Corrado, despite looking the same, was not actually the same. Why was that so hard for people to figure the fuck out?
“I have an offer for you,” Cree said, tipping his hand over like there might be something waiting in his empty palm for Corrado to see; there was nothing, obviously. “I don’t think it’ll be exactly what you want, but some things can’t be helped ... and, if anything, it might help with the fact you’re a little stir-crazy.”
He looked to the people behind Cree again.
“What kind of offer?”
“The team—they’ll drop you off about twenty-five miles from here, even further out than we already are. You’ll have to the end of the day.”
Corrado blinked. “To do what?”
“Get back alive.”
What?
Cree smiled slightly, as though he could see the questions forming in Corrado’s mind. “For one, it’s a good way to put some of the skills you’ve been learning to a real test. Out in the real world, so to speak. The team will be near, or close enough to cause you trouble here and there. Think of it like a—”
“Hunt,” Corrado interjected.
“Well, yes.”
“And what do I get ... if I make it back, I mean?”
Cree shrugged. “You’ll make it back, that’s a certainty. It’ll be whether or not they need to carry you back, or if you’ll walk in with your own legs that’ll make the difference.”
“That’s not that I asked.”
“A night away,” Cree said. “Whatever you want to do, wherever you want to go ... within reason, keep it to the state, you will be able to go. You’ll be provided with everything you need—vehicle, fake identification, just in case, and whatever else. No babysitters watching you. Prove you’ve learned something these last two months, because the past three weeks have put you back several steps, and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
Corrado chewed on his inner cheek. “Hmm.”
“There is an expiry on this offer. Ten seconds is what you have to decide.”
“Where will they drop me?”
“I told you, twenty-five miles—”
“No, where exactly?”
Cree smiled. “Nowhere. It’ll seem like nowhere because that’s exactly what it is.”
Huh.
Corrado looked at the team again.
“Three seconds,” Cree said.
“All right,” Corrado muttered, pushing off the bed and tossing the magazine aside, “what’s it going to hurt?”
Cree laughed.
An unusual sound, considering the man rarely did it.
“That’s what I want to hear,” Cree said, slapping him on the back as he passed. “Try not to fight the team too much when they put the hood over your head, yeah?”
“Great.”
• • •
Corrado was shoved to his knees roughly, and he felt the fucking rocks on the ground dig into his skin and bones through his pants. Something dropped to the ground beside him with a heavy thud, and then that hood was ripped from his head. It took him far too long to realize he was surrounded by cliffs. Red dirt, dry plants, and a few towering trees keeping the sun shaded.
Where the fuck was he?
He focused in on the man kneeling in front of him. Ten feet away from him was a helicopter that had landed in the only spot that seemed safe and wide enough for it to do so, considering the rocky ledges that led hundreds of feet down into more rocks.
Fun.
“Hey,” the guy said.
Corrado swallowed his nerves, saying, “Yeah?”
“Here’s where I let you go, huh?” Without warning, the guy pushed the mask up over his face, giving Corrado the first peek at one of the people on his team—the team that trained him. Dane, one of the few members of The League that Corrado liked ... strange how that worked ... gave him a grin. “Everybody else got dropped off in vehicles at different points. Nobody is going to kill you, but it might seem like it when they get a little close. Don’t stop moving, because that’s when predators find you, find your way back—keep going east. Do you remember how to tell if you’re moving east?”
Corrado glanced at the rocky ledge.
Yeah, he knew.
East meant going right over that ledge.
“I know how to keep going east,” he muttered.
Dane chuckled. “Now you get it. This isn’t going to be easy, but if you keep going east, you’ll be fine. At some point, if you’re going the right way ... you’re going to start recognizing shit from things you’ve done in training, or whatever else.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Some training had taken place in areas around the complex. Miles into the desolate land that surrounded the area.
Dane pointed at the bag next to Corrado. “There’s a satellite phone if you need it, and it’s preprogrammed with the only number you can call from it. You want water? Find some. You’ve got one small blade in there—get it out, and have fun getting your ties cut. Then, start moving. Sound good?”
Corrado smirked. “Sounds like hell, really.”
“Depends on who you ask. This was one of my favorites. How else are you going to learn to survive, Corrado?”
Something beeped.
Dane checked his watch. “And that’s my signal. Stop wasting time, Corrado.”
That said, Dane straightened to his full height, and turned to head for the chopper. Corrado had about a million and one questions he still wanted to ask, but he figured Dane was right. Those things didn’t matter, and he was losing seconds right now.
He bet even those were going to count here.
Seconds would make the difference to him succeeding with this or failing. With hands still tied, he used his booted feet to drag the small bag back closer. Then, he used his teeth to rip the zipper down as far as he could get it.