Bodie coughed, flicked the mushroomed bullet out of his vest. “Assholes’ll pay for that. Buck?”
Buck hissed out a few breaths. “Forgot how much that stings, but I’m good.”
Avery tried the door. “It’s locked.” She grunted when the air hissed from around the edges, pulling it tighter. “Make that magnetically sealed.”
Dalton grunted. “So, I assume now isn’t a good time to tell everyone the bottom door just opened?”
Tierney huffed. “How long?”
“Not nearly enough, even with me holding them off.”
Nick looked at Sloane, arched a brow. She cursed as more rounds ate up the steps, Bodie and Avery darting out to lay down return fire, before checking her weapon and nodding.
Nick took a breath, then peeled out, Sloane shadowing his six as they pushed up the stairs, hugging the wall, reducing their profile as much as possible. They took turns firing, feeding off each other the way they’d done on hundreds of other missions, as they rounded the first landing, kept going.
Nick caught a couple rounds in his vest, the sheer force knocking him into the wall. Sloane lunged ahead, took out one of the bastards, bought Nick time to get back into the game. He shoved off, cursing when a ricochet slammed into her vest, dropping her to one knee. He reached for her, but she waved him off, falling in behind him, face pinched tight.
He didn’t argue, still forging ahead when Bodie raced up beside him, lobbed a frag up the remaining stairs. The canister bounced off the railing, clicked across the cement, spinning to a halt amidst the remaining men.
A thundering roar boomed down the stairwell, the concussive force nearly flattening Nick against the wall, but he held firm, already sweeping the dust and smoke once the initial explosion cleared. Shrapnel peppered the walls, smoke quickly choking out the oxygen.
Nick waved away the lingering dust, keeping Sloane close as he walked up the last flight, kicked the men’s boots to ensure they weren’t getting up.
Dalton rushed up behind them. “Company’s coming on strong, brother. No time for a victory lap.”
Nick snorted as Dalton opened the heavy, metal door, cleared the next hallway, before snagging Sloane’s arm as the rest of his crew shuffled through. “You okay?”
She looked at his vest. “You’re still ahead by two, so ask me again once I’ve caught up.”
He released her arm. “Not if I can help it.”
“Sloane.” Bodie waved her over to the last fire suppression door between them and Kessler’s secure wing. “Is this a manual override or a digital one?”
Sloane scrolled through a few screens, tapping on one of the icons. “It’s a manual override. We need the physical key.”
“Or…” Buck pushed through. “The right leverage.”
Tierney eyed Buck. “How many explosives did you bring?”
“Never enough.”
He packed a charge along one side, stepped back as the sparks ran along a thin fuse, erupting into a fiery flash before the door shuddered, disengaged with a loud thump.
Nick palmed the handle, breeched the ward. A blast of cold, sterile air rushed past them, the underlying scent of blood and disinfectant mixed in. Like the rest of the annex, this part was eerily silent, the empty chairs more like tombstones in the dim light. Nick took point, reading each room number as they quickstepped along the hallway, stopping at the next set of sliding doors.
Sloane moved in beside him, swiped the badge across the reader. The light flashed red, then green, the glass doors parting with a swirl of even colder air. She arched a brow, but stepped through, sweeping the room with her weapon.
They crossed into the adjoining section, an obvious dining area off to the right, what looked like a communal sitting roomon the left. Water dripped in the background, the faint echo of a radio playing somewhere down the hallway.
Sloane checked her tablet, motioned to the passage on the left just as the television above a gas fireplace hissed to life. Lines crackled across the surface, the picture finally emerging from beneath the static.
A man’s head filled the screen, everything black except for a swath of light across his eyes. He stared directly at them, breath rustling in the background as the magnetic doors slammed shut behind them, sealing them in with a resounding click.
The man leaned forward as the lights in the wing blinked on. “You’re late, Colter.”
