Willa moves to where Lucas sits pressed against my side. "Hey Lucas, I could really use some help in the medical bay. Think you could come show me which instruments go where?"
Lucas looks up at me, uncertain. I meet Willa's eyes and see the understanding there. She's getting him out of here before it gets worse.
"Go ahead, baby," I say, smoothing his hair. "I'll come get you as soon as they're back."
Lucas nods and stands, taking Willa's offered hand. I watch them disappear down the corridor, then force myself to focus on the screens.
"Target left, moving to flank. Dylan, suppress that position. Stryker, you're clear for approach."
More gunfire. A different sound now, single sharp cracks instead of the rapid bursts. Maybe Mercer from his position on the ridge.
Then Stryker's voice makes something in my chest clench.
"Hostiles down. Advancing on primary target." His tone is flat, emotionless, completely different from the man who touched me with such reverence hours ago. "Kessler's moving east. I've got pursuit."
This is who he really is. Not the man who touched me like I was something precious, who made me feel safe for the first time in years. This is the operator, the weapon Kane deploys against threats. Cold, efficient, lethal.
Every muscle in my body locks, jaw clenched tight. I force myself to relax incrementally, to keep breathing, to stay focused on the screens.
"Stryker's closing on Kessler," Sarah says, tracking the movement on the thermal display. "Kane and Dylan are engaging the remaining hostiles to prevent interference."
More gunfire. The sound bleeds through the radio with visceral intensity. Someone screams, the sound cutting off abruptly in a way that makes my stomach turn.
"Targets down," Dylan's voice comes through between gasps for air. "Multiple hostiles neutralized. Stryker, watch your six. You've got one breaking toward your position from the northeast."
"Copy. Engaging."
A burst of gunfire. Then silence that stretches too long.
My fingernails dig into my palms hard enough to hurt. The seconds tick by—five, ten, fifteen—each one worse than the last. Sarah leans closer to the thermal display. Tommy's fingers hover over his keyboard, frozen mid-reach. Even Khalid has gone still beside me, Odin's ears pricked forward. Please. Please let him be okay. The silence stretches into something unbearable.
"Hostile down," Stryker's voice finally cuts through. "Moving on Kessler. He's alone now."
"Confirmed," Kane says. "We've got the perimeter secured. Finish it, Stryker."
The radio goes quiet except for the sound of heavy breathing and movement. Then Stryker's voice again, different this time. Closer to the microphone.
"You made a mistake coming after them."
A different voice responds, rough and wet with injury. "The kid saw too much. She should've kept better watch on him."
"You're done hunting them."
The sounds that follow come through the radio with terrible clarity. A scuffle first, boots scraping against rock or dirt, the harsh rasp of labored breathing. Then impact—the meaty, solid thud of fist against flesh, once, twice. A choked gasp. The wet, rattling gurgle of someone drowning in their own blood.
The sound goes on too long, each horrible second stretching while bile rises in my throat and my hands shake where they grip the edge of the table. Then silence. Complete, final silence that somehow feels worse than the violence that preceded it.
"Kessler is down," Stryker reports, his voice steady again. "Confirm target eliminated. Site is secure."
Relief floods through me so intensely my knees go weak. Colton is alive. They did it.
Quiet words pass between Tommy and Sarah as they shift into post-operation mode.
The relief seeps in as I allow myself to relax incrementally. It's over. Kessler is dead. Lucas is safe.
Then Tommy's posture goes rigid. His work suddenly frantic as he pulls up a new feed. "Wait. I've got movement. One of the hostiles from the initial engagement—he's not down. He broke from the firefight and he's moving fast."
The relief evaporates.
