“I know that,” Elliot said quietly. God, did he know that, and it worried him as much as it did her. “I won’t let anything happen to Rue.”
Davey’s expression softened marginally. “Griffin is your ripcord. You need extraction, you call, and he’ll have a team at the designated coordinates within four hours.”
“Weather permitting,” Elliot muttered. Antarctic storms could ground even the most experienced pilots.
Davey’s lips quirked. “Griff hasn’t met a storm that’s grounded him yet.”
Rowan leaned forward again. “Elliot, I’m serious. The first sign of real trouble, you get her out. She won’t leave willingly. You’ll have to convince her.”
“Or carry her,” Davey added, with the ghost of a smile that faded fast. “Be careful. We think Praetorian is?—”
The connection stuttered again, pixelating Davey’s image mid-sentence. Then the screen went dark. Must have lost signal. He powered down the communicator and slipped it back into his jacket pocket.
Davey hadn’t volunteered much concrete information, but his caution spoke volumes. If Praetorian was behind this expedition—if Frost had been working with them all along—then the stakes were far higher than he and Rue had anticipated. This wasn’t just about scientific research or resource competition. Whatever lay behind the biometric door of Lab B was significant enough to justify elaborate cover stories and military-grade security in one of the most remote locations on Earth.
And somewhere in the middle of it all was Rue—brilliant, reckless Rue, who would throw herself headfirst into danger if she thought it was the right thing to do.
The thought sent a chill through him that had nothing to do with the Antarctic cold. He’d made a promise to keep her safe, and he intended to keep it.
eleven
Rue returnedto their room just as he ended the call with Davey and Rowan.
“You’re brooding again,” she announced, leaning against the door with arms crossed. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and despite the harsh fluorescent lighting that made everyone else look sickly, she somehow managed to glow. “I could practically hear the gears grinding in your head all through dinner.”
Elliot set his boot aside. “I’m not brooding. I’m thinking.”
“Potato, po-tah-to.” She pushed off from the door and dropped onto the bunk beside him, the thin mattress dipping under their combined weight. “Care to share with the class what has you looking like someone stole your favorite pen?”
He hesitated, weighing how much to tell her about his conversation with Davey and Rowan. “I briefly managed to contact WSW. Rowan confirmed our suspicions about Irina.”
She exhaled a long, slow breath. “Oh. Well, shit. That’s not good.”
“Understatement of the century goes to Rue Bristow,” he muttered.
She laughed. “Careful, your sarcasm is showing.”
“Yeah, it comes out when I’m trapped in a metal box at the bottom of the world, surrounded by people who might want to kill us.”
“For the record, I like sarcastic Elliot.” She tugged off her boots, tossing them carelessly beside his neatly placed pair. “Did you see how Moretti practically had a stroke when Tyler asked about Lab B at dinner? And don’t get me started on the cameras everywhere. It’s like Big Brother: Antarctica Edition.”
Despite everything, Elliot felt his mouth twitch. “That’s a reality show I’d skip.”
“Liar. You’d watch every episode.” She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Admit it, Wilde. You’re as curious as I am about what’s behind that door. Wanna break in tonight?”
He was curious, but not for the same reasons. Rue’s curiosity was driven by her natural thirst for adventure; his was rooted in the growing certainty that whatever lurked in Lab B was dangerous enough to warrant Davey’s worry. And Davey didn’t worry lightly.
“We shouldn’t go looking for trouble, Trouble,” he said. He had a feeling it was going to find them soon enough, whether or not they went looking.
Rue snorted. “Says the man who spent all evening casing the joint like he was planning a heist.” She stood and stretched, her thermal top riding up to reveal a sliver of skin above her waistband. “Well, I’m beat. This adventuring business is exhausting.”
Elliot tried not to stare at that strip of exposed skin, but his eyes betrayed him. By the time he dragged his gaze back up, she was watching him with that knowing half-smile that always made his pulse kick up a notch.
“Sharing a room with you is going to be interesting,” she mused, reaching for the hem of her top.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice suddenly rough.
“Changing for bed, obviously.” Her smile widened. “Don’t worry, I’ve got layers on. Though if you’re feeling modest, I can turn around.”
