Echo Base. The place that doesn't exist on any map, that's survived every attempt to find it. The place where we might actually be safe.
I killed a man tonight. Tomorrow, I might have to do it again.
16
DYLAN
The Wyoming safe house sits higher than the hunting lodge, with better sightlines and three escape routes instead of one. Six weeks since the attack, and we're still rotating between safe houses instead of going to Echo Base. Kane wants us mobile, harder to track, spreading our presence across multiple locations until he's confident the Committee has lost our trail.
Smart. Predictable patterns get people killed.
Reagan works at the dining table, three laptops and a stack of documents spread in front of her like a command center. She's been tracking the prosecutions since they started, coordinating with her journalist contacts, managing the story as it unfolds across every major outlet. Delaney's been working with her remotely, handling the evidentiary chain of custody protocols and building the cases that prosecutors can actually use in court.
The indictments came first. Federal prosecutors moving against Committee members with speed that only happens when the evidence is airtight and the political will exists to follow through. Morrison's historical war crimes, fully documented now in the federal record. His legacy isn't heroic serviceanymore. It's torture, chemical weapons, and dead civilians in a Syrian village.
Reagan's exposé did that. Her investigation, her sources, her refusal to back down even when it nearly got her killed.
Committee officers convicted, others cooperating with prosecutors, trading testimony for reduced sentences. Protocol Seven officially acknowledged as a war crime by international tribunals, condemned permanently.
"Another one just flipped." She doesn't look up from her screen, but I hear the satisfaction. "Committee logistics coordinator in Virginia. He's giving up supply chains, financial networks, operational protocols. Everything."
"That's good." I pour coffee, add the sugar she claims she doesn't want but always drinks anyway. "Convictions are stacking up. Cooperating witnesses too. The Committee's structure is fracturing. Webb's cutting loose anyone who might flip, which creates more people with reasons to flip. Vicious cycle." She sips the coffee, makes a face at the sweetness but doesn't complain. "But Dylan, the leadership is still walking free. Webb and the others at the top. We damaged the organization, exposed operations, put mid-level operatives in prison. But the real leadership is insulated by layers of cutouts and deniability. The prosecutors can't touch them directly."
The frustration in her voice mirrors what I've been feeling for weeks. We won. Morrison's legacy is destroyed, the Committee is bleeding members, Protocol Seven is condemned internationally. But the leadership structure remains intact, consolidating power, still dangerous.
"Partial victory," I say.
"Better than total defeat." She sets down the coffee, stretches. The movement pulls her shirt tight across her shoulders, and I watch before forcing my attention back to tacticalconsiderations. "Kane called. He wants everyone at Echo Base tonight."
"Everyone?"
"Full team. You, me, Khalid, the whole crew." Her expression shifts, uncertain in a way I rarely see from her. "He said it's time I saw the base facility. That I've earned it."
The invitation carries weight. Echo Base isn't just another safe house. It's the operational heart, the place where Kane built something that survived every attempt to destroy it. Bringing Reagan there means Kane trusts her completely, considers her part of the team in ways that go beyond tactical necessity.
It means she's family.
"When do we leave?" I ask.
"Sunset. Kane wants us traveling after dark, harder to track." Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing with easy familiarity. "He and Willa are heading back early to prep the facility. You okay with this? Taking me to Echo Base?"
"Yeah." The answer is immediate, honest. "You've proven yourself. And Khalid's ready to show you around the place he calls home."
"He reminds you of Maya."
The observation lands. Maya had that same determination, that refusal to quit even when things seemed impossible. Khalid carries it too.
"He reminds me that some things matter," I say carefully. "That not everything the Committee touches gets destroyed."
Reagan's thumb traces patterns on the back of my hand. "You're a good man, Dylan Rourke. Even when you pretend you're not."
"I'm not pretending."
"Yes, you are." She rises on her toes, kisses me quickly. "But I see through it."
The drive to Echo Base takes hours on roads that barely qualify as roads. Kane picks the routes, changing them every time, making sure no pattern emerges that surveillance could exploit. We travel in two vehicles, Mercer and Stryker leading in the first, me driving the second with Reagan and Khalid. Kane and Willa left hours ago to prepare the facility.
Khalid sits in the back, quiet but alert. He's been different since the hunting lodge, more withdrawn but also somehow steadier. Killing changes people. Watching someone kill to protect you changes you differently.
