Jonah Elliot thinks he has turned the board.
Ronan Pierce thinks he is watching a rescue unfold.
Malenkov clasps his hands again, perfectly calm.
Let them move.
Let them hope.
Because the last thing they will learn—
Is that Malenkov does not need tunnels to control the outcome.
He only needs the men Ronan Pierce cares about.
62
Ronan
Location: Eastern Europe — Forward Operations Vehicle
Time: 1204 Hours
The screen lights up without warning.
No alert.
No encryption handshake.
Just signal.
Lena’s breath catches in my ear a split second before the feed stabilizes.
And then—
I see him.
The camera angle is deliberate. Wide enough to show the restraints. Close enough to make the damage unmistakable.
Steel chair. Concrete floor. His wrists were bound behind his back. One eye swollen shut, blood dried black along his temple. His chest rises unevenly, ribs bandaged so tightly it’s a wonder he can breathe.
One of mine.
The vehicle goes silent.
No one speaks. No one moves.
I don’t blink.
Because Malenkov wants me to.
A second figure steps into frame—another chair, another body. Bruised. Pale. Still conscious.
The last two.
Four years.
Four years of planning this moment.
