I bypass the final lock.
The panel lights flicker.
The door remains closed.
For now.
I rise slowly, weapon ready, heart steady, every sense locked forward.
On the other side of this door—
Are the men Malenkov tried to turn into leverage.
Tried to break into weapons.
Tried to use against me.
I set my hand on the release.
And for the first time in four years—
I’m close enough to bring the last of them home.
68
Ronan
Location: Ascendancy Detention Wing
Time: 1230 Hours
The door opens.
Not fast.
Not dramatic.
Just enough for the light to spill through.
It hits them first—harsh white against skin that hasn’t seen it in years. One of them flinches. The other doesn’t move at all.
I step forward.
And there they are.
Chained to opposite walls. Bare concrete behind them. Steel rings embedded deep, cuffs biting into wrists that should’ve been holding rifles, not restraint bars. Both thinner than they have ever been. Bruises layered over scars, old and new, blending together until it’s hard to tell where one pain ended and another began.
One of them lifts his head slowly.
Eyes swollen. One nearly shut.
But the other—
The other locks on mine immediately.
Recognition hits before relief.
Before disbelief.
