Would this be the thing to finally break her?
“Dutch is hit but stable,” Ethan added before I could ask. “We’ve repelled the initial attack, but Parker called for reinforcements before we neutralized him. We’re holding, but things are getting hot.”
“Copy that. We’ve got intel from the tower site.” I kept my eyes on the screen, watching more files populate as the download continued. “This is bigger than we thought. Bunny’s the primary target, not Clarity.” I paused, bile rising in my throat. I hated using my nickname for Sophia like this. “Clarity is Bunny’s biological mother. But Langston isn’t the father. They used genetic material from Subject L-7 during the IVF without her knowledge or consent. Bunny was designed from conception to inherit enhanced traits for their augmentation program.”
The line went silent for a beat. Then another.
“Bunny is secure,” Alistair said finally. “She’s with me at rally point, unharmed, and she’ll stay that way.”
Then Gage’s voice cut in—raw, shaking, barely holding together. “Say that again. Subject L-7?”
“Lazarus—” Ethan started.
“Subject L-7!” His voice cracked. “That was my fucking designation. You’re telling me—“ He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t get the words out.
“They took your genetic material during your captivity,” I said quietly, and I’d never known heartbreak until that moment. It felt like my chest had been cracked open, and something with claws was scraping my hollow. “Used it to create her. You’re her biological father.”
The sound that came through the comm wasn’t quite human. Somewhere between a sob and a roar, choked off before it could fully form.
“Laz—“ Ethan tried again.
“No.” Gage’s voice went flat. Dead. The kind of calm that meant someone was about to do something catastrophic. “They’re fucking done. They made a kid—mykid—so they could torture her like they tortured me. I’m going in.”
“Negative, Lazarus. Hold position. That’s an order.”
The channel went silent. No acknowledgment from Gage. Just dead air.
“Shit,” I muttered, turning to Flynn and Rafe. “He’s going rogue.”
“And we’resurprisedby this?” Flynn asked, heavy on the sarcasm.
“No,” I said. I’d known what telling him would do. But I also knew keeping it a secret would’ve been even more catastrophic.
Christ. How was I going to tell Evelyn?
“We’d better move fast,” Rafe said, nodding toward the data transfer that had just completed. “Grab that and let’s get these charges set. We need to be at that facility before Gage burns it to the ground.”
I yanked the drive free and pocketed it. We worked fast, placing C-4 charges at structural weak points throughout the equipment building and at the base of the tower. Each ofus knew our role without needing instruction—Flynn securing the zip-tied prisoners safely away from the blast radius, Rafe calculating exact placement for maximum effect with minimum collateral damage, me setting the timers for a five-minute countdown. Enough time for us to clear the area, not enough for anyone to disarm them.
“That should do it,” Rafe said, connecting the final detonator. “Five minutes starting now.”
I nodded. “Move out.”
We moved quickly down the ridge, using the cover of scrub brush and rock formations. Behind us, the cell tower stood silent against the night sky, its red warning light blinking steadily. In less than five minutes, it would be reduced to twisted metal and broken electronics, the control signal permanently disabled.
But the hard part was just beginning. The mining facility would be heavily defended, especially now that they knew we were coming. And somewhere between here and there, Gage was running his own operation, driven by demons we all understood too well.
I checked my watch as we reached our vehicle, hidden in a dry creek bed a quarter-mile from the tower. Two minutes until detonation. The timer inside my head—the one counting down to when I could get to Evelyn—ticked even faster.
Flynn slid behind the wheel, engine roaring to life. I loaded a fresh magazine into my weapon as the vehicle lurched forward over the rough terrain.
As we ate up the distance toward the mining facility, a thunderous boom shattered the night behind us. The shockwave rattled the vehicle and pushed against my back. I turned to see a brilliant orange fireball erupting where the cell tower had stood seconds before, metal twisting and screaming as it collapsed in on itself. Debris arced through the darkness like deadly shootingstars, the concussion wave flattening the scrub brush for fifty yards in all directions.
“Damn, Rafe,” Flynn muttered, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror where the flames reflected. “I thought you said controlled demolition.”
“That was controlled,” Rafe replied, a rare smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “You should see what happens when I don’t hold back.”
CHAPTER 19
