Code Zero was only ever used by the United Kingdom’s military and first responders amongst themselves—a warning that Splice had been deployed and they were to remain where they were for quarantine.
It was, for all intent and purposes, a death sentence.
Oliver’s stomach twisted as he realized that the SAS soldier who’d taken the brunt of the IED blast had been the lucky one.
Someone was shouting, and Oliver lifted his head in time to see the other two SAS members who’d been his escort having a frantic conversation farther ahead. They were standing close together, helmets pressed together as they spoke. One of them was gesturing wildly with his left hand before he pulled back and ripped off his helmet. Oliver watched as he yanked his service pistol out of its holster and pressed it to the side of his skull.
His teammate didn’t try to stop him from pulling the trigger.
Oliver closed his eyes, but he couldn’t block out the sound of the gun going off. He turned his head, blinking open his eyes and refusing to look. Breathing shakily, he forced his way to a sitting position, swallowing against the bile that rose in his throat. The scrape of boots against concrete finally made him look up as the last remaining SAS soldier approached.
“Should probably use your gun,” the SAS soldier said quietly. “It’s quicker and less painful.”
Oliver tried not to hunch over, blinking sweat out of his eyes. “No, thank you.”
“I could do it for you.”
Before Oliver could reply to that bleak offer, his comms crackled to life, the voice coming across making him blow out a heavy breath.
“I’m on my way, Raven,” Liam said.
“Knight,” Oliver said in a voice that only shook a little. “What are you doing?”
“Coming to you.”
The SAS soldier left Oliver to his conversation and walked away, taking his gun with him to maybe find a quiet place to die. Oliver didn’t watch him go.
“Don’t you need to find Bennett?” Oliver asked.
“Bennett is dead. So is Murphy. It’s over.”
Oliver closed his eyes, lips trembling. He fumbled at his tactical goggles, shoving them up onto his hard helmet. What protection they’d offered before didn’t matter now. Nothing did. He pried the air-filtration mask off and let it fall to the ground.
“Raven?” Liam asked sharply.
“Get UMG headquarters to send you my location.” Oliver bent his head and squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He bit back the hysterical laughter wanting to bubble out of his chest at that realization and cut the connection. Somehow, Oliver got to his feet and staggered out of the middle of the road. The warehouses on either side would provide some coverage in case any straggling Reborn IRA fighters managed to make it this far out. Not that Oliver thought it mattered.
He had nowhere to go.
Oliver pressed his back to the wall and slid down, groaning quietly at the way the shrapnel in his side shifted in the wound. He hadn’t taken it out yet—not sure if he should, or if it was worth the effort now. Oliver stretched out his right leg and fumbled at the straps of his hard helmet, yanking it off. It made it a little easier to breathe, but not by much.
He rested his head against the wall and looked up at the night sky, half wondering if he’d see the dawn or not. Splice took upward of twenty-four hours to kill a person, but everyone died at a different pace. Oliver swallowed thickly, his hand straying to the handgun holstered on his hip. Maybe he should’ve taken the SAS soldier up on his offer after all.
Oliver didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard the pounding of footsteps over his harsh breathing. He turned his head to the left, watching as a tall figure ran toward him. He recognized Liam’s uniform, but Oliver couldn’t find the energy to get to his feet and stand to greet the other man.
It didn’t matter. Liam crashed to his knees beside Oliver, yanking up his tactical goggles. His hazel eyes were wild-looking beneath the outside lights lining the warehouse roof. Liam tore off his air-filtration mask, pitching it aside. Both his hands came up to cradle Oliver’s face, gloves rough against his skin.
“Ollie,” Liam said in a ragged voice filled with anguish, eyes searching his.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Oliver said.
Liam shook his head hard. “That’s where you’re bloody wrong.”
“But your team—”
“My team is fine, and they need to get used to me not being around. I’m not allowed in the field after this.” Liam’s jaw worked as he stroked his thumb carefully over Oliver’s cheek, eyes gleaming behind the tears there. “I’m not going anywhere.”
