“You can’t,” I choked out. “Beckett, if you die for me—”
“Too late,” he cut me off, voice like gravel, unshakable. “I already chose.”
My throat closed, tears burning hot as smoke stung my eyes. He meant it. Every word. He would fight until there was nothing left, just to keep me free.
And for the first time, I hated the truth pressing against my chest—the files I’d stolen, the secret I hadn’t told him, the reason Hydra would burn cities just to drag me back. Because if he knew everything, if he knewwhat I really wasto them, maybe he wouldn’t choose me at all.
But even as the thought tore through me, his hand stayed locked in mine, pulling me back to my feet, holding me steady against the storm.
“Together,” he growled.
And for the first time in years, I believed I might not have to face Hydra alone.
64
Beckett
The street was hell.
Smoke rolled thick, flames chewing through stalls and trucks alike. Hydra pressed in from every direction, their shouts echoing sharp through the night, gunfire rattling the stone until it felt like the whole city was shaking.
And still, they weren’t trying to kill her. They were trying to drag her back. Every formation, every push, angled at Elara. I saw it clear as day.
Not while I’m breathing.
“River, cover right! Gage—push forward with me!” My voice tore through the comms, loud over the chaos.
“On it!” River barked, rifle cracking sharp in the dark.
Gage roared and charged into the storm, his gun spitting fire as he dropped two Hydra soldiers before they could flank. Oliver was right on his heels, precise and lethal, cutting down another before he could level his weapon.
Cyclone’s voice came fast, tense. “We’re boxed in—north alley is our only out. But it’s narrow, and they’ll know it.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Then we take it.”
I grabbed Elara’s hand, hauling her against me as another burst chewed the wall where she’d just stood. She fired back, sharp and steady, dropping the bastard who tried to close in with a taser.
“Stay with me,” I growled.
Her chin lifted, eyes blazing. “Always.”
We pushed hard toward the alley, Hydra pressing closer, the ground slick with dust and blood. My rifle barked until it clicked dry, and I slammed in a fresh mag without breaking stride. The Team fell into rhythm, every man moving like a piece of the same machine.
But Hydra wasn’t breaking. If anything, they were tightening the noose.
A spotlight flared at the mouth of the alley, blinding white, and a Hydra truck roared forward to block the exit. Men poured out, rifles raised. Behind them, I saw it again—that black emblem painted bold across the steel. Grand’s mark. His taunt.
“Damn it,” Oliver muttered, teeth clenched.
“They’re cutting us in half!” Cyclone shouted.
Not if I had anything to say about it.
I yanked a grenade from my vest, teeth clenching as I yanked the pin. “Cover me!” I barked.
The Team lit the night with fire, their rifles blazing as I sprinted forward. The grenade arced through the smoke, slamming against the hood of the Hydra truck. The blast ripped the street apart, fire chewing through metal, screams tearing into the night. The truck went up in a ball of flame, bodies flung like rag dolls.
For a moment, silence carved through the chaos.
