“I’m real,” I say. “And I’m here.”
His breath shudders violently. “Sir....”
I reach him and cut the restraints, catching his weight as his knees give out.
“I’m getting you out of here,” I say firmly.
That’s when the lights cut out.
Emergency strobes kick on—red, violent, pulsing.
Malenkov’s voice fills the chamber, calm and intimate.
“Lieutenant Pierce,” he says smoothly. “You came for your men, but they won’t live for long.”
I turn slowly, rifle raised.
Explosions rock the upper levels.
“Multiple hostiles inbound!” Miles shouts. “This was always a trap!”
Of course it was.
Malenkov never intended to keep Cal.
He intended to use him.
I sling Cal over my shoulder, his weight light—too light.
“We’re leaving,” I snap.
We move through fire and smoke, bullets tearing chunks from the walls around us. Aaron clears ahead, Jase covering our six, Miles calling paths through collapsing corridors.
The bunker starts to fail—structural supports screaming as fire spreads.
We hit the extraction tunnel just as the ceiling caves in behind us.
The blast throws us forward into darkness.
Then cold air.
Then night.
The helicopter drops out of the sky like salvation, ropes slamming down.
Aaron and Jase haul Cal aboard first. I follow last, covering until the very end.
The bunker collapses behind us in a thunderous roar.
As the bird lifts, Cal clutches my sleeve weakly.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispers. “All of you.”
I grip his hand.
“You’re not allowed to think that anymore,” I tell him. “We’re not done. We’ll get the rest of the team.”
Far below, fire eats the earth.
