Feb 8th - 02h00

Snapping open her eyes, Breanna sat up in bed, taking in the chest of drawers slightly darker than the shadows. The moonlight illuminated the windows. The en-suite bathroom door stood ajar.

Everything was silent and in its place, yet something felt wrong. Something was off.

A low, continuous beep brought her attention to the tablet on her bedside table.

No.

The safe house.

Shaking her head to clear the residual grogginess Breanna scooped up the tablet pressing a few icons. They were evacuating.

Incorrect.

They were already moving according to GPS. Moving fast. The house didn't show on the map. What happened to make the signal disconnect? Dread sliced through her as she pressed a key on her phone and waited for the speed dial to connect.

"What happened?" she asked, relief flooding her when the call connected.

"We were invaded. Four casualties. Three dead. The rest got out"," a panting clipped female voice said, "we'll be with you in about an hour if all goes well. Didn't have time to retrieve the dead before the safe house went up in a deafening bang of smoke."

"Acknowledged," Breanna said, sliding to the edge of the bed, "I'll be waiting. Val will help with your entrance. What is the state of the injured?"

"At this point, we're just keeping them moving," the brisk voice said, "put them as currently unknown. We were unable to use the tunnels, so we're taking the secondary route."

"You were driven in the direction of the beach?" Breanna frowned.

"It happened really quickly, so I can't be sure. It felt like we were," the voice answered.

"Be careful, Clio. This should never have happened. Treat whatever you come across as a threat," Breanna spoke quietly while pushing her feet into her running shoes.

"Understood. Thank you, Bre," Clio said quietly, "without you, we would have nothing."

"Speak to you in an hour," Breanna said, clearing her throat, "if anything happens, let me know. I'll get an extraction to you." `

Cancelling the call, Breanna quickly pulled her track top over her t-shirt. Thankful for her habit of sleeping in a tracksuit. A memory of doing so ever since she was a teenager flashed in her mind, and the theory that she would be ready for anything. All she needed was shoes. She was proven right over and over again. She didn't remember the last time she owned a pair of PJs. It concerned her, these lapses in her memory. Some events were crystal clear, whereas others had no knowledge. The knowledge she felt she should have bred frustration. Pushing the consistent nagging doubt to the side, Breanna secured her shoulder-length hair in a messy ponytail and left the room.

The upper floor of the house was quiet. Quietly she secured the windows before proceeding down the stairs to the lower level. Checking the doors and windows, she paused. It was supposed to be silent. Frowning, Breanna moved toward the voices coming from the kitchen. The low-level argument between a female and a male was heading into the name-calling region. Considering who it was, it surprised her it hadn't already. She knew the female voice belonged to Valencia, her hot-headed, loyal best friend, who currently threw insults and accusations. The male had to be David. A ripple of surprise ran through Breanna. Why was he awake? Why was he in the kitchen? Why was he arguing with Val?

Stopping in the entrance, she bit her lower lip holding back a sudden bubble of laughter. Valencia stood in all her five foot five, fiery, loose-haired glory, wearing a grey tracksuit and running shoes. Standing toe to toe against a barefoot, shirtless, six foot two David. Glaring at each other.

"I don't care who you are, jackass", Valencia spat, "there is no way you'll be going anywhere other than straight back to bed. Regardless of what you think or you hear."

"I can't help what I hear," he growled down at her, "I hear everything for six blocks red, so get off my back."

The heavy breathing between the two, as tempers rose, brought ridiculous images to Breanna's mind. Making her work hard against her warped sense of humour was challenging for her not to laugh out loud. Biting her lip harder, she barely managed to subdued her mirth and moved in to defuse the situation.

"Val," Breanna said, "we have a group incoming. ETA is an hour, but it may be sooner if there is more trouble, and we're on extraction standby. There are casualties. Status unknown. We need to be prepared to attend to anything."

Valencia turned toward her, "Do you realise this man is wandering around in your house?"

David stared over Val's head, speaking at the same time, "You have a civilian in your house; this is not practical."

"Yes to both," Breanna said, glancing between Valencia and David, fighting a smile, "I do realise both ends of the story." Meeting Valencia's expression steadily, Breanna waited a moment before continuing, "Val, we have a situation to handle. They need help. Don't let them down."

"Okay," nodding, Valencia gently squeezed Breanna's upper arm, "but if he is trouble, don't expect me to show any restraint."

"Understood," returning the reassuring squeeze, Breanna allowed part of the grin to show, "I won't stop you handing him a beating. Now go. Get ready."

Breanna watched as Valencia turned, giving David a withering look as she walked past him and disappeared through the hidden doorway between their houses.

"Yes, I am aware I have a civilian in my house," Breanna answered David, "Valencia is my neighbour and a trusted friend. David, I would suggest you stay in your room. What happens here does not concern you. Val is right. Go back to bed."

"Really? Alarms going off. Your supposed next-door neighbour walking through your kitchen wall, rumblings and electronic sounds beeping in your basement. What about the incoming people?" he motioned quote marks as he spoke. "Am I supposed to not hear or think about any of that?"

Stopping in front of her, a mountain of heaving rage, staring at her expectantly. Her eyes couldn't help but follow the contours of the eye-level broad, muscled chest. Breanna took in the design of the light dusting of hair, the tight neck muscles as they ran up to a tightened, square jawline and full lips that had her wondering if they felt as soft as they looked. Clearing her throat, she met his searching light green gaze and made herself focus on the task at hand.

"No, you're not supposed to concern yourself about anything while you are here. You're supposed to be recuperating; I suggest you go back to bed."

Her calm response set off angry fuses in the flecks of his eyes.

"Why you scared I'm going to tell Darcia?" he taunted.

After what had happened at the safe house, it was clear Darcia was aware of more areas of Breanna's life than was healthy or wanted.

It was a known fact Darcia was intent on destroying everything in Breanna's world until she obtained her insane goal. Breanna had not figured out the plan until David unknowingly supplied part of the answer. Darcia wanted Breanna to experiment on. There had to be more, but what?

"I understand you just want to press information buttons, but I'm not concerned with your idle threats. Darcia already knows about the incoming people. They wouldn't be on their way here if she didn't," Breanna said, pulling out prepacked overnight essentials from a pantry shelf and dropping them into a wooden crate. "Go back to your room David," Breanna met his gaze, "This. Doesn't. Concern. You."

She stared him down until he turned and stalked out of the room. Remaining still and waiting for the three telling creaks in the passageway floor to ensure he was moving toward the spare room before uncovering the keypad next to the basement door. Entering the code, she waited for the soundless click vibrating inside the thick wooden door. Silently it moved to one side. Slipping through, she pushed it closed, leaving it unlocked for Valencia, who would be bringing more crates of necessary items. Setting up for the incoming injured would need focus and attention. Three dead. Breanna's heart clenched at the thought of who they could be. They couldn't even say goodbye. She always disliked losing those in her care; it hurt her soul and burnt into her heart. Memories of that day years ago rose on a tide of pain, making Breanna shake her head to dislodge persistent thoughts and the agony the memory brought. Clearing her throat, she focused on the present.

Racing down the stairs into the old, high ceilinged stone room, Breanna could see Pirates using it as a treasure trove or a sea cave where mystery hung in the air. Chuckling at her thoughts, in reality, it was an ordinary basement probably in existence before the house was built. Breanna paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking in the sandy rock floor, breathing in the salty chill on the air, indicating the tunnels held a high tide in the last few hours. It continuously reminded her how far beneath the house this room was. Checking that everything was in place, Breanna moved to a bank of high tech electronic equipment that could rival a military bunker on lockdown. Swinging into the swivel chair, she punched in a code, activating the necessary programmes to run logistics on the incoming safe house refugees. She dialled in a number while pulling on her headset, positioning the microphone over her mouth. A steady, breathless voice was heard on the room speaker before disappearing into the headphones.

"What was the holdup? Are we still safe to come in?" Clio panted.

"A brief holdup. The person recovering from a bullet wound," Breanna said, "he slid through my window two days ago wearing a locket and a rectangular pendant that fizzed colourfully when disabled."

"She still working them that way," Clio said, inflictions on her words indicating exertion while speaking, "will the person be a problem?"

"Maybe," Breanna sighed, "maybe not. He isn't the problem. Getting you in safely and undetected is. New information, Darcia has teams working in the same town I'm living in."

"That sounds … like Darcia. By the way, we are not above ground," Clio panted, "we found a shorter way. We'll be with you in fifteen minutes."

"Shorter way? So you had problems topside?" Breanna asked, concerned.

"Yeah, I suppose you can say that," Clio's said, sounding strained while adjusting a weight, "it's as though our route was known. We're on the last tunnel curve."

"Got that," Breanna said, typing quickly, "Valencia advises she is ready and waiting. See you shortly."

The communications went quiet. Concerned, Breanna linked the mobile signal with the groups' position and continued to track them. It seemed problematic getting them in through the underground passages. Instinct fluttered. Were they being driven in a specific direction? If so, why? Perhaps Darcia wanted Breanna to feel like she was in control when she actually wasn't. If that were true, nothing about Darcia had changed. An uneasy feeling went through Breanna. Someone knew their route, evacuation procedure and most of their protocols. It all screamed mole. The only way that could have happened is if someone infiltrated them without them knowing?

Who could it possibly be? If this was so, had they been with the group for some time, or could it be someone who came more recently? Someone they wouldn't really suspect as a mole. The usual protocols had been delayed because Fiona was away, and David didn't know anything about the safe house. He had lied about the basement, but he hadn't lied about someone being here. David didn't seem to know enough to be the leak.

Footsteps on the stairs brought Breanna's thoughts to the present, turning she watched Valencia descend the last few stairs.

"Both houses are now secure," Valencia said, placing a crate on the large round table in the middle of the room, lifting a substantial medical box from the top. "I have enough medical supplies to attend to the UN forces. I'll put these packs in here," she said, flicking on a light.

Breanna heard her shuffle around before coming out once more, "At least we have the space for anyone who needs it."

"You have a point there," Breanna glanced over her shoulder.

The long dormitory type room was filled with bunk beds lining the one side of the room while the extra mattresses were stacked against the back wall. An old brown, stand-alone wooden cupboard stood against the wall just inside the room. Fortunately, they had checked the linen and blankets this past week. There would be plenty for all.

Valencia moved back into the main room, "How many are coming through? I'm sure they would like some water and refreshments," she said.

Breanna watched as she disappeared into the small kitchen at the back of the basement.

"I'm guessing around ten, Val," Breanna turned to the screens watching the progress of the group. Pushing a button, Breanna watched the screen turn to thermal mode, "at least we can see who is with you, Clio," she murmured.

The group was moving quickly. Very quickly. Spikes of energy could be seen from someone in the front. They were going to be with them in moments.

"Val, they are nearly here," Breanna called while keeping her eyes on the screen.

"I'm ready," Valencia called from the kitchen, "just going to start making up the beds."

"Good idea," Breanna called, punching in the code to start the activation of the metal door for the tunnel.

"You do have a covert underground basement," David spoke quietly behind her, "Glad you didn't drag me down here. It would have hurt."

"What are you doing here?" she turned slowly, facing him, her temper rising, mentally slamming control into place, keeping it in check.

"I went back to my room and got dressed," he indicated his attire with a flourish of his hand. "Since you may need some help, I came back to see what I could do," David said, moving toward Breanna, "so who is coming in?"

"A group of people who won't think twice about blowing your head off," Breanna spoke with fury, "go back upstairs and stay out of here."

David watched her for the thud of two heartbeats before turning toward the stairs and climbing to the upper floor. Breanna watched him disappear. That was too easy. What was he up to? Would he listen this time?

She didn't have time to ponder his compliant actions as the sound of scuffing, heavy breathing and a few grunts sounded in the underground tunnel through the opening door. Breanna turned toward the doorway as a group of eight people poured into the basement. A tangle of sweaty, dirty, dishevelled people either assisting, carrying or keeping bodies upright between them filling the space like an explosion. Breanna glanced at the stairs to make sure he was gone and moved forward to help the group with their load. She released the tight hold on her abilities, letting them roam freely and went to work.