We watch in silence as Reeve continues his search. The heat signature moves further northwest, heading away from our position. Tommy tracks the movement, adjusting sensor coverage to maintain contact.
Then he stops. Just stops moving, the reading holding steady in one location.
"What's he doing?" Kane asks.
Tommy zooms in, trying to get more detail. "Can't tell. He's stationary but the heat signature suggests he's not resting. Maybe checking equipment. Maybe analyzing data."
"Or maybe he found something," Stryker says quietly.
We watch the stationary signature, waiting for movement that doesn't come. The seconds drag. A minute passes. Then another.
Then he shifts. Not continuing the search pattern. Moving directly toward us.
"He's coming," Tommy says. "Bearing two-seven-zero, speed increasing. He's not searching anymore. He's approaching with purpose."
Kane's expression doesn't change but his voice sharpens. "Distance?"
"Still out. But closing."
"Countermeasures. Now." Kane looks at the assembled operators. "Mercer, Dylan, you're on defensive positions despite your injuries. Stryker, you're with me. Hawthorne, you're armed and on standby." Kane looks at me. "Rachel, you stay in ops with Lucas. Willa, Delaney, Reagan, Khalid—everyone stays together. If this goes sideways, Tommy and Sarah coordinate evacuation. You all go out together. Understood?"
My throat goes dry. "Understood."
"Authentication code is Jellybean," Kane adds. "Anyone comes for you without that code, you don't go."
I nod.
Stryker catches my arm. "You stay in ops no matter what you hear. Understand? No matter what."
"I understand."
His hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. "I'll come back."
"You better," I manage.
Then he's gone, moving with Kane toward the armory. Hawthorne follows. Sarah stays at her console, pulling up defensive protocols. Tommy's fingers fly across his keyboard, tracking Reeve's approach.
I run for the gym where Lucas is playing with Khalid and Odin. They look up when I burst through the door, my expression probably telling them everything before I speak.
"We need to go back to operations," I say, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Right now."
Lucas's face goes pale but he doesn't argue. Just grabs Ghost and runs to me. Khalid is already moving, Odin at his heels.
We move through corridors at a run. The base has shifted into lockdown mode, blast doors closing automatically, emergency lighting casting everything in red.
When we get back to operations, Tommy doesn't look up from his screens. Sarah has communications open, coordinating with Kane's team as they take defensive positions. Willa stands ready for casualties. Delaney and Reagan huddle together near the secondary console, both pale but steady.
I pull Lucas close, settling into a corner where we're out of the way. Khalid positions himself near the door with Odin, his hand resting on the sidearm Dylan taught him to use. Sarah glances over, her expression tight but controlled.
"He's searching again," Tommy says quietly, tracking the thermal signature. "Pattern's expanding. He's thorough."
Lucas huddles against me, trying to be brave. I hold him and watch the displays, knowing that somewhere out in the Montana wilderness, Reeve is hunting. And if he finds Echo Base, if he breaches the facility, our best chance is staying together and getting out fast.
Time drags. The contact continues its methodical grid search, heading away from our position, then doubling back. Reeve has patience that makes every minute feel like an hour.
Then Tommy stiffens. "Movement change. He's stopped again. It’s like he’s trying to hone in on something."
On the screen, the heat signature holds steady. We watch the stationary signature, waiting for movement that doesn't come. The seconds drag. A minute passes. Then another.
