Chris straightens up and places his hands on my shoulders. With his black clothing, he blends into the shadows around the campsite.

“Don’t be nervous,” he says. “I’ll be with you.”

“You can’t stick with me all the time,” I reply. “You’ve got a militia to lead. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’ll worry about you if I want to.”

He pulls me into a gentle kiss. I melt into him, desperate to touch him. I feel like this is some kind of goodbye.

That’s irrational, I tell myself. We’ll be back in no time.

But this is war. Anything could happen.

Across the camp, the muted shadow of Alexander Ramos is standing still, his arms folded across his chest, watching us. As Chris wraps his arms around me for a final, comforting hug, I place my head against his chest and watch him.

Don’t let yourself be pushed aside, he said.

Stupid advice. Chris isn’t afraid of letting me help.

“Stick to the plan and follow orders,” Chris says, “and you’ll be fine. Don’t deviate. If things go bad, head to the rally point where the vehicles will be. You can’t mess around and wing it, Cassie. This is life or death.”

I nod.

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The militia hasn’t made a move against Omega since Chris and his group attacked the labor camp. This will be the first mission we’ve attempted since all the liberated prisoners became new recruits over the last few weeks. Our target is an Omega supply depot in Squaw Valley.

“Omega is using people like you and me to farm the land and collect the supplies,” Chris says, gathering everybody around the center of camp. We’re all dressed in dark clothes, blending in with the night. “They’re an invading army, and we can surmise that they’re an advance force prepping for the next wave of troops to come in, so they need our food to keep going. Not to mention our labor. So what we need to do is make it impossible for Omega to stay here by taking away what they need, and making sure any new forces in the area don’t have a reason to settle in. The best way to do this is to cut off their supply chain. We start by liberating the POWs and taking back the food supplies. Just like we’ve done in the past, but on a larger scale.” He takes a step back, locking gazes with me for a moment. “We’re not training anymore. This is real. You get one chance to do your job right, and if you hesitate, there’s a very real chance that you will endanger the mission or get yourself killed. It’s important that you follow orders. Focus on the objective. Continually keep the enemy reacting to our actions. This will keep you and your friends alive.”

He pauses.

“But the best soldier is the one who can improvise,” he continues. “There will be instances in which my orders do not fit with a given situation. You’ll be forced to make a tough decision. Think on your feet and do what you know is right. We can’t afford to take many losses. Every man counts. Take the road that will get as many of you out of that situation alive. Keep your group together and make sure you maintain communication with the members of your team. A battlefield is loud and chaotic, and it’s easy to get separated. Do exactly as you’ve been trained. Shoot, move, and communicate. Fighting rarely goes as planned, so yes, follow orders, but be prepared to adapt, improvise and overcome when things get hard.” He folds his arms across his chest, keeping his gaze steady. “We’ll be separated into four platoons. Each platoon will take one side of the depot, surrounding it on all sides. Only two platoons will attack at a time. Omega will turn to respond with fire, and then our next two platoons will open fire from the other side, as we discussed in training. It will keep them guessing. Our most powerful weapon tonight will be the element of surprise. Max and his team will be in charge of opening the gate for us.”

A few of the men chuckle. Max’s team is comprised of demolition experts and men who know how to make things go boom in a major way.

“While our three platoons are surrounding the depot,” Chris finishes, “Max’s team will be maneuvering to breach the front gate with explosives, essentially giving us a way to enter the property. We should be able to pin Omega’s forces against the rear concrete wall. They’ll be trapped. Nowhere to run.”

The Omega center in Squaw Valley is a giant warehouse. It’s small in comparison to the one I was imprisoned in, but it’s a good place for a small, fledgling fighting group like us to start.

Sophia gives my hand a reassuring squeeze before we separate into our platoons. There are four: Max, Alexander, Derek and Chris. Since my skillset is primarily marksmanship (my dad would never believe it), I’m with Chris’s group. He’s leading us around the front end of the warehouse. Sophia is with Alexander Ramos’s team since her talents are different than mine. Her platoon will round the back of the depot and focus on closer targets.

Each group is assigned a truck. I sit with Chris in the cab of ours, while the rest of our team piles into the back. My heart is racing. We’ve gone over our training a thousand times. I should be able to do this. But I’m still scared. No amount of training will ever change the fact that deep down, I’m just a teenage girl from LA who got kicked into a war zone.

Chris starts the engine and we take off, driving down the mountain roads. Luckily, the moon is bright tonight, making it easy to navigate the roads without headlights. We stick to bumpy back roads that cut behind the main highways — roads that are far away from the routine Omega patrols. The supply center we’re hitting is about an hour away from our camp, but it will take longer to get there since we have to go so slow to keep the engine noise down.

“Don’t drive fast or anything,” I mutter.

Chris simply smiles, but it’s a tight smile. Just because he’s a macho leader these days doesn’t mean he’s impervious to fear or nerves. I sometimes forget that he’s human, too. “We’ll be okay,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.

“I know.” He keeps his eyes trained on the road. “Maybe you should have stayed with my parents back at camp.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m fine.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’m just as capable as any of the other recruits around here.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t capable or talented.” He sighs. “I just said I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t.”

A heavy silence hangs between us for a few seconds.

“Cassie, I came too close to losing you before,” he says at last.

“Chris, you don’t have—”

“—Just hear me out.” He throws a glance in my direction. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me. If you feel like you’re not ready, or if you’d rather stay back at camp, you can tell me.”

I place my right hand around the car door handle.

“Believe me, I’d tell you,” I reply. “Don’t worry.”

I take a deep, steadying breath. Chris has every right to be cautious when it comes to me jumping headfirst into a battle. How many times have I almost died in the last few months? How many times has he had to save my sorry butt, too? Yeah, I can see his point. But I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding in the foothills. I have to do my part to stop Omega, and after being imprisoned — and almost executed — I feel a personal desire to take them out.

Call it revenge. Call it whatever you want to call it.

I’m obligated.

Chris doesn’t say anything for the rest of the drive. We travel in silence, wrapped up in our own thoughts. The tension is thick. We finally arrive at our destination, a small clearing in the middle of the forest a few miles away from the supply depot. We need to be far enough away from the compound so we can sneak up on them without rumbling up in a bunch of trucks.