Chapter 5
1398 Words
Kuma
We glide like shadows through the tall grass. The smell of oil and copper lingers in the air as we approach the power station. The moon hangs above, a thin sliver. It gives off just enough light to see my team as they move into position. It's quiet, too quiet, but this is the sweet spot. Bellamy's intel says we have roughly thirty-five minutes, or maybe less, until the backup feed reboots. Then, eyes will be back on the station.
Thirty-five minutes to sneak in, plant the bomb on the turbine, and disappear like ghosts.
No pressure.
I stay low, glancing across the terrain. Gin is already inside the fence line, moving with silent precision. Tonight I’m watching their six, flanking from the far side with Jax. Cho and Makini are ahead, crouched by the service entrance. Cho is working his magic on the lock, while Makini keeps her rifle aimed at the shadows.
She’s completely still, every muscle alert, but her breathing is slow and even. Focused. Calculated.
She’s something else.
It hits me again, harder this time, how much of a difference the SEALs have made. We shifters are strong, fast, and we’ve got instincts and power that most humans can’t comprehend. But we weren’t raised with the kind of structure and strategy that the SEALs breathe. We fight with heart. They fight with purpose.
Makini? She’s the embodiment of both.
Warfare genius, that’s what she is. Calm under pressure, one step ahead even when the chaos hits. The way she coordinates the team, reads terrain, predicts movement… it stuns me. Not that I’d ever say it out loud. But watching her work? It's like watching a symphony of war.
I used to think humans would be our downfall. Now I’m not sure that we would survive without them.
The lock clicks, a soft metallic sound, and Cho flashes two fingers. We’re in.
Makini slides through first, smooth as a liquid shadow. I follow my steps light for someone my size. Inside, it’s tight; pipes, metal, blinking panels, but the hum of the turbine drowns our movement. Cho heads straight for the lower access, planting the charge with expert hands. I stand watch, but my eyes keep flicking to her. Always to her.
Focus, Kuma. This is not the time.
Still, it’s impossible not to notice how she commands the space like she was born in it. She doesn’t need to shift to be powerful. She just is.
We set the timer. Seventeen minutes left.
Makini signals retreat. Just like that, we’re gone, slipping back into the darkness. The others join us as we reach the extraction point.
No alarms. No shouts. Just the quiet, burning thought in my chest:
I was so wrong about her. About all of them. And … maybe I have never been more grateful.
We drive away. The explosion lights up the night behind us. It rattles the truck's glass panes and shakes the floor under our boots. But inside me? Satisfaction. Pure and sharp. Another successful op. Another kink in the General’s iron grip. One more link in the chain is broken. Slowly but surely, we’re bleeding his power dry. The rest of us chuckle, the tension easing a bit as the glow of the fire fades in the distance behind us. For a moment, we let ourselves breathe. We earned it.
But deep down, I know we’ll have to gear up again soon. The war isn’t over. The General is still out there.
And we’ve still got a reckoning to deliver.
I rode out with the SEALs tonight, not because they needed me. They’re a force on their own, moving like a unit that’s seen too much, survived more. Precise. Unflinching. Efficient. But they’ve been going non-stop lately. Op after op. While we sleep, they’re planning. While we plan, they’re executing. Sometimes it seems as if they’re fighting harder for our freedom than we are. So yeah, I go when I can. Offer my help. Carry my weight.
The truck bumps along the dirt road. The faint orange glow of the explosion flickers behind us, like a rogue sunset. We're all buzzing from the rush, adrenaline high, and hearts thudding steadily now. The mission was clean. Too clean. Which is exactly why the teasing starts.
“Getting a bit slow on the locks, Cho,” Jax calls from the back seat, grinning widely. The flickering dashboard lights up his face.
Cho shoots him a look over his shoulder, one brow raised, but the hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “Excuse me, that was an S&G 951C, not the flimsy things you use on your diary, Jax. I think I aced it, to be honest.”
Jax snorts. “Yeah, yeah. Just saying, you used to be quicker.”
“That’s what happens when I have to do all the heavy lifting and teach you how not to trip the alarms.”
Makini leans back in her seat, checking over the gear she stashed by her feet. “Jax, you tripped that second sensor on purpose, didn’t you? You needed an excuse to show off your dramatic roll.”
Jax gasps. “Excuse me? That roll was tactical.”
“That roll was unnecessary,” Cho deadpans from the driver's seat. “You looked like a cat trying to avoid a puddle.”
Gin chuckles, her laugh low and smooth. “And he landed in a puddle. Tactical, huh?”
Jax lifts a hand dramatically. “You’re all just jealous because I bring flair to the battlefield. Admit it. I make ops look good.”
Makini arches her brow. “You make ops look loud.”
Cho snorts. “And messy.”
“Okay, okay,” Jax says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Y’all roast me, but who tripped over nothing during the breach last week, huh?” He points a finger at Gin, grinning widely.
Gin shrugs, calm as ever. “The floor moved.”
Makini bursts out laughing. “Oh, please, you nearly took Cho down with you!”
“He was in my way,” Gin mutters, straight-faced.
“I was behind you,” Cho says flatly.
Jax grins, leaning forward to fist-bump Makini. “I swear, you people are the worst, but you’re also my favourite."
“Damn right,” Makini says, smirking. “Now shut up and pass me the comms scanner, Tactical Peacock.”
Jax grumbles under his breath but tosses the scanner over. “Y’all better remember who saved your arses when you write the mission report.”
“Oh, we will,” Gin says, eyes twinkling. “We'll put in a special section titled: Jax, The Floor Was His Greatest Enemy.” That brings another bout of laughter.
"Are you finally brave enough to join us for a beer tonight, Grizz?" Jax asks, leaning back with his cocky grin, acting like he wasn’t just the butt of the joke.
I grunt. “Guess the name’s sticking, huh?"
Makini smirks from the front. “Like glue.”
“I’ve been waiting for an invitation all this time,” I say, half-serious.
Jax snorts. “Whatever, man. You were still deciding whether to join us or to eat us.”
Everyone laughs. Even Cho, who barely cracks a smile most days, lets out a short huff. Gin chuckles quietly, shaking her head.
I rub the back of my neck, heat creeping up my ears. “That bad?” I mutter.
"You're kidding me?” Jax grins. “You were full-on grumpy bear on steroids.”
Gin raises an eyebrow. “Honestly, we used to place bets on how many grunts you’d give us before walking away.”
Now I’m laughing, despite myself. “Okay, okay. I get it. I was… a little rough around the edges.”
“A little,” Cho deadpans, and even I have to snort at that.
“Well,” I say, sitting back with a sigh, “I’ll join you for that beer. Peace offering.”
Jax leans over and fist-bumps me with a proud grin. “There we go. It only took a dozen ops, three life-or-death situations, and a nickname.”
Makini nods. “Progress.”
And damn… it is. The truck fills with laughter. Yeah, we’re tired. Bruised. And nowhere near done. But right now, in this moment?
We’re golden
- Writer
