Free Web NovelChapter 345: Chapter 345 Road To The Royals
Allison
The garage smells like rubber and clean metal in the early crisp morning air. Engines idle softly as ops has the convoy boxed and labeled. A volunteer with a clipboard points me toward a "guest vehicle" staged near the bay door, a cream placard on the dash, tinted windows, and a driver I don’t know.
"No," I say, calm. "I ride per manifest. SUV-3, row two." I hold up my badge so he can read the line he’s trying to forget; Visitor/Ops (no recording). ƒreewebηoveℓ.com
Alpha Jack’s voice comes from behind the lift like he timed it. "Guests use the guest car, Ms. Grey." freewebnovёl.ƈom
I meet his eyes. "Policy routes me with SUV-3. Training support rides with the team." He opens his mouth to turn that into a speech, but Ethan steps out from the toolkit with keys in hand and shuts it down without raising his voice.
"Manifest holds," he says to the volunteer: "Move the placard to the lot. It isn’t part of this convoy." Alpha Jack’s jaw works. He doesn’t say the next thing because Luna Ella appears at the bay door with a dot’s worth of expression and a signature for a driver who actually needs her. The volunteer peels off with the placard. The "guest vehicle" rolls backward like it was always meant for the lot.
’You stepped where the rule lives,’ Ruby says, steady. ’Good.’
"Window or aisle?" Elijah asks at my shoulder, soft. He’s new at saying it like this but he’s getting good at it.
"Window," I say. "No middle."
"Copy," he answers, and doesn’t touch me when he says it. Ezra lifts the van door long enough to show me the whiteboard and cones are strapped tight, then hands the evidence case to Daniel without drama. Fallon checks a box on the ward map and calls S7/S8/31a green over comms. Clean lines. No speeches.
I walk to SUV-3 and stop a second because something changed. Ethan takes the driver’s door and sets his palm on the roof like he’s claiming the responsibility, not the car. "I thought you were in the lead with Beta and Gamma?" I say.
"Adjustment," he says. " We’re driving you." He doesn’t wait for thanks. He angles the rearview so he can see the second row and me in it without turning around, then checks the side mirrors, the console lights, and the immobilizer indicator. Elijah slides into row one, passenger side, while Ezra takes row one, driver side, tablet on his knee.
"Earpiece," Daniel says, passing me a small pouch. "Listen-only, C-NET. Spare tips. If you need a bail-out, the phrase is what it always is. I’ll call. If you need wheels, I’m already moving."
"Copy," I say. He bumps his knuckles to mine and peels off toward the Gate.
I buckle in, tuck the KNOT WATCH card behind my badge, and set my notebook in the door pocket. Elijah looks back once to confirm I’m settled while Ezra touches the tablet and brings up the dash cam grid; front, rear, and two side views, plus the small UAV that will hover while we leave the compound.
Ethan keys A-NET. "Alpha comm check."
"Copy," Fallon answers. "Convoy clear, wardroom standing by." Luna’s voice follows, steady, from Ops as Councilor Hart checks in as well. Drivers echo clean and Daniel reads gate status. The sound in my earpiece is C-NET timing notes and the boring parts that make me feel less like luggage. Elijah tilts his head so I can read A-NET in his mouth when it matters.
"Roll at 7:30am," Ethan says. "We leave on time." The doors shut. The garage opens on a strip of early light and SUV-1 takes the lead with the Council. We fall in behind the equipment van and SUV-2 anchors. Ethan eases us forward, the engine a low, predictable thing.
At Gate, a guard leans in just far enough for the scanner to read badges without seeing faces. "Good morning," he says, neutral. "Alpha, Alphas and Visitor/Ops." He checks plates against the manifest and waves us through. In my ear, C-NET logs the time stamp: 7:30 OUT.
A camera crew lurks by the book tent with a volunteer blocking their path by accident on purpose. Alpha Jack stands near the square with a phone to his ear as he watches our bumper pass and keeps his voice even enough not to trip the mic Daniel stuck on the lamppost last week. He seethes on someone else’s line.
We hit the main road, the drone peels away once we’re past the second stop sign and Ezra flicks that window off and makes the tablet a two-up; forward and rear. He tags the grid with small dots when we pass the three places we agreed to watch, library bench, diner alley, windbreak lot. No chalk, no cream.
Elijah half turns. "Comms summary," he says for me. "Gate green. Pace plus five for the next leg. The Crown requests arrival at nine sharp. Risk wants ten minutes on the knot packet when we land."
"Copy," I say. It’s easier to breathe with someone translating the parts I don’t get to hear. And on some level I’m grateful I don’t get to hear it, and irritated I don’t get to hear it. Is that normal? To be happy and annoyed at the same thing all at once?
Ethan’s voice stays calm on A-NET and he doesn’t add color. In the mirror, his eyes check me without trying to catch me. "Climate okay?" he asks.
