“Copy that,” I said. “Oliver, smoke the ridge. Gage, back to cover!”
The docks flashed white as the power grid surged back online—floodlights slamming down from every angle, turning the chaos into a battlefield made of shadow and glare. Hydra soldiers poured through the southern gate like ants out of a burning nest.
Oliver’s voice was calm as always. “Two on the roof. Three behind the forklift. I’ll take the high ones.”
“Got the ground,” I said, sighting down my rifle.
The gunfire was deafening. Sparks flew off the container walls. One of Hydra’s trucks skidded sideways, tires screaming, before exploding in a bloom of fire that painted the entire dock gold and red.
Gage ducked under a collapsing crane arm, laughing even as shrapnel flew past his head. “That one’s on me!”
“Yeah, no kidding,” Cyclone muttered. “You just set off half my interference field.”
“Did it work?”
“It’s chaos out there!”
“Then it worked!”
We fought in perfect disorder—each of us moving like pieces of a broken clock that somehow still told the right time.
I dropped another Hydra soldier, then glanced toward the east ramp. Through the smoke, I caught sight of Beckett and Elara—moving together, covering each other’s blind spots, cutting straight toward Viktor’s position.
Cyclone’s voice softened in my ear, like awe wrapped in exhaustion. “They’re going for him.”
“Then we hold this dock,” I said, reloading. “No matter what comes through that gate.”
Oliver’s next shot split the air. Gage whooped, throwing a grenade that rolled beneath a forklift before blooming into fire. The blast threw half the enemy line backward into the water.
My chest burned with pride and adrenaline. These were my brothers. My family. We’d bleed here before we’d break.
Cyclone’s voice steadied again. “All units—Beckett’s closing in on Viktor. We’ve got two minutes before they breach the dock’s south end. Everyone ready to dig in?”
Gage grinned through the smoke. “Born ready.”
Oliver chambered another round. “Let’s make this count.”
I checked my rifle, heart steady, pulse pounding like thunder in my ears. The enemy was closing in, but the Golden Team didn’t retreat. Not now. Not ever.
“Then let’s give Beckett the room he needs,” I said.
We opened fire together—one voice, one promise.
And in the distance, through the haze and the fire, I saw Beckett disappear into the smoke after Viktor.
81
Cyclone
The dockyard was chaos made flesh—metal screaming, water boiling with reflection, smoke crawling like ghosts across the ground.
I ducked behind a fuel drum as a burst of gunfire stitched the air above me. Sparks rained down, searing my sleeve. I didn’t look up. My computer was balanced across my knees, screens alive with static and color, data bleeding through like Morse code from hell.
“Status check!” I shouted into the comms.
“Still standing!” River’s voice cracked through the noise.
“Barely!” Oliver added.
