“Then we don’t give them clean shots, and we keep you out of sight for now.” Blake reloaded, his movements automatic, his mind burning through options. He could feel Vivian on the other side of the room—her focus a steady, silent weight. They’d fought enough together to move like two halves of the same instinct.
Another explosion shook the ground—closer this time. The door below slammed open. Voices—sharp, commanding. Laurel Tide.
“Upstairs!” one shouted.
“Go,” Blake told Thirteen. “Find any exit that isn’t wired.”
Thirteen hesitated. “And you?”
Blake glanced at Vivian. “Viv has a plan.”
“It better be a good one.” He pulled a sealed folder from his jacket pocket and handed it to Blake. “This is all I have for your operation,” Thirteen said, pressing the folder into Blake’s hand. “Use it to save my daughter and yourselves. I heard chatter that they took Mara to theWindward Lady. I don’t know what gamethey’re playing, but don’t worry about me. Just get Mara out of there. I’m like a cockroach. Life keeps trying to stomp me out, but they can’t kill me.”
“Thanks. Now go join Laurel on the hunt for us. Play your part so we can play ours,” Vivian said.
He offered a curt nod. “There’s an access shaft below—leads to the service tunnels under the cliffs. It opens near the marina. You’ll go on foot from there.”
Thirteen ducked into a dark alcove.
Blake grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the staircase. “They’re breaching. You take left. I’ll cover the stairwell.”
“Blake—”
He stopped her with a look. “No speeches. Just stay alive.”
She gave a short nod. “You too. And no more stunts—we live and die together.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Vivian didn’t hesitate.The air was thick with gunpowder and grit, every breath scraping her throat. She grabbed Blake’s sleeve, and they bolted down the metal stairs that spiraled like a spine into the earth. Bullets clanged off the railing, ricochets sparking blue in the dark.
The tunnels stank of rust and sea rot. Water dripped from the ceiling in slow, mocking rhythm. Each splash sounded like a countdown. Ahead, slick concrete lead to a black mouth of the tunnel’s end.
“Faster,” she said, more to herself than Blake.
They burst through the maintenance hatch into night again. The world opened up in cold salt air and chaos. The docks sprawled ahead, broken and slick with rain. Cargo crates and abandoned skiffs made uneven shadows. Beyond them, headlights flashed—two trucks, black, armored. Laurel Tide’s men were already here.
Automatic fire tore across the dock before they hit the ground. Wood exploded into splinters around her, one catching her cheek like a hot kiss. She dropped behind a crate, shoulder slamming into the boards, breath a ragged saw through her aching ribs.
Blake returned fire beside her: clean, controlled bursts—cover, move, cover. “They cut us off. Too many.”
“Then we make noise,” she said, flipping to her other side. “Draw them to us before they reach the slip.”
Something like grief cracked in his voice. “Viv?—”
“Listen, Mara’s the leverage,” Vivian snapped. “I told you, I have a plan.”
The air filled with the shriek of bullets. She rose, fired two rounds, dropped again. Her shoulder screamed. A grenade went off near the fuel drums, showering them in saltwater and debris.
“Left flank!” Blake’s voice echoed. “Move!”
They sprinted for the next cover—crates, ropes, the half-collapsed pier. Blake reached the end first and pivoted, firing to cover her. She felt his hand shove her forward, the force of it grounding her as another blast rocked the dock behind them.
Dan appeared from the shadows—drenched, terrified, clutching a pistol too small for the war they’d walked into. “This way!” he shouted, waving toward a stack of containers that led to the lower dock.
Vivian ran.
The next burst came from above—sniper fire. The first round hit the wood near her shoulder; the second hit Dan.
