Bound By Thorns (Squad Six #2)

THIRTY-TWO

Kaylan

“Top floor clear. Team 3, get ready for mission objective,” Sebastian’s voice came through our earpieces.

The helicopter’s roar faded, leaving a ringing silence in my ears, as we made our way into the building through the roof. I could barely hear the orders being shouted, my focus narrowing down to the man beside me—Logan. His presence was a calming force, a steady hand on my shoulder that grounded me. His glance was enough to remind me that, today, we could very well lay down our lives.

Fear was a tangy taste on my tongue, but there was also resolve. This mission wasn’t just another line in our service records; it was personal. Ravenrock haunted my dreams, and now, stepping back into the fray, the echoes of those screams followed me, urged me on.

Kabir led, his eyes on his tablet, relaying information coming from Amelia’s drones. The door in front of us seemed almost inconsequential, another obstacle we were trained to overcome, but behind it lay Garret Tyson’s lair. My hand tightened on my weapon, a familiar weight that promised action. Logan’s hand brushed mine, a silent promise between us. No words needed; his touch spoke of protection, of shared dangers past and the unspoken vows of those yet to come.

As we breached the door, the building swallowed us whole. The inside was stark and sterile, and a faint humming noise from idle computers filled the room. Each corner we turned, every hallway we checked, brought us deeper into the enemy’s den. The silence was unnerving—this far in and not a soul in sight. My heart pounded, a drumbeat syncing with the soft thuds of our boots on the polished floor.

“If it comes to it,” I found myself whispering to Logan as we paused at a junction, checking our bearings.

He stopped.

“I know,” he nodded simply without sparing me a glance.

As we pushed into the main hall, the aftermath of what Team 1 had done hit us hard. The floor was littered with bodies of Garret’s men, blood painting the scene in grim strokes. There were faint groans from a few who were still hanging on, but mostly it was just a silent testament to the violence that had gone down before we got there.

Kabir was focused, flipping through something on his tablet. His voice cut through the eerie quiet, a bit muffled by his mask and helmet but clear through our earpieces. “Falcon, come in. I see discrepancies in the schematics. The far wall of his office—it doesn’t match up with the building’s actual layout.”

Amelia’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “Do you think it’s a panic room?”

“We’ll find out,” Kabir murmured, almost to himself as he led us towards Garret’s office.

I was on edge as the door to the office swung open. I was half expecting to see the face that haunted my dreams every night. The face that designed my torture everyday. But instead, the room was empty. Silence. No one waiting for us; just an empty space that seemed to mock the fear and tension I’d been carrying. It felt like a letdown, yet the quiet was unnerving.

The room was stark, painfully empty. It was as if Garret’s team had scrubbed it clean of any clue that might have led us to them. Standing there, I could feel the frustration boiling up inside me, like a pressure cooker ready to blow. I wasn’t the only one—Logan was rigid beside me, his jaw clenched as he scanned the room, obviously reaching the same frustrating conclusion.

“There’s got to be something they missed,” Kabir’s voice was low, almost a growl. “There has to be a hidden exit or a room here.” His eyes were sharp, darting around as he assessed every inch of the office.

Leora, Logan, and I fanned out, our steps silent on the plush carpet as we searched the remaining walls for any sign of a hidden passage. The windows made up two of the walls, leaving less ground to cover. That’s when something odd caught my eye—a slight discrepancy at the base of one window wall. Kabir noticed it too. Without a word exchanged between us, we both zeroed in on the anomaly.

It’s a damn screen.

Kabir was already pulling out his Sentrix tool, fingers flying over the interface as he hacked into the system behind the facade. “Be ready,” he muttered, his voice tense with anticipation. “On my count. Weapons out. Three, and this wall opens up.”

We drew our weapons, the weight familiar and somewhat comforting in my grip.

Three.

Two.

One.

The room erupted in gunfire, the sharp reports snapping me out of the brief paralysis that gripped me at the initial burst. Instinct kicked in, and I returned fire, my shots echoing through the newly revealed passage.

Kabir and Leora hunkered down behind the desk, exchanging fire, while Logan and I pressed against the cold wall by the ominous room’s entrance, narrowly evading the storm of bullets shredding through wood and plaster.

Logan shot me a look before he dove into the open, dodging bullets with a dancer’s grace. My throat tightened as I watched him move into the direct line of fire, but he was swift, dropping two mercenaries with clean, disciplined shots.

Then, an eerie silence fell, punctured only by the slow, deliberate clapping that echoed ominously through the room. My stomach churned, knowing only one person would dare such theatrics in this chaos.

The scent of his familiar cologne wafted through the air before he even appeared. My heart sank as I saw a glimpse of his polished shoes. One shiny shoe, then another, stepped confidently into view. I forced myself to look up, to face him, but my body rebelled; fear and hatred anchoring me in place.

A humming sound replaced his claps, drowning them to a muffled scream, as I shook my head to clear the fog in my mind.

“I enjoyed that entrance, 424 ,” Garret’s voice cut through, thick and dripping with mockery.

I braced for Logan’s retort, expecting a sharp dismissal or a scoff at being reduced to just a number from his torturous days at Ravenrock Hall. Instead, Logan’s laughter filled the space, a dark, chilling sound that made the air feel colder.

“I’m glad you were entertained, Garret,” Logan’s voice rumbled deep, his words slow and deliberate. “But you won’t even get a number. An unmarked grave at best.”

Garret responded with a derisive snort, dismissive and confident.

“Am I supposed to be giving a villainous speech, now? Answer all of your burning questions?” His voice carried a mocking lilt, almost as if he were enjoying this last act.

Leora shot back, quick and sharp, “It would probably be less torturous.”

Undeterred, Garret sauntered across the room, seemingly oblivious to the assault rifles trained on him. “I am aware I watched my last sunrise today,” he acknowledged with a wink at Logan, his voice chillingly serene. “But I’d prefer torture over betraying my plans.”

His gaze flickered momentarily towards his desk—a fleeting glance that could have been missed in a blink. “Your contingency plans are doomed, Garret,” Leora declared, holding his gaze with fierce determination.

Garret paused, turning to face her fully, his smile chilling. “Ah, the new Maxton,” he mused aloud. “Brave lad, that one. Funny how he met such a mysterious end on a routine job, wouldn’t you say?” His words dripped with an icy casualness that belied the threat underneath.

Leora’s retort sliced through Garret's diversionary tactics, sharp and unyielding. “I am different from him, though. For one, he’s not the one building such a clever, clever conversation with the Garret Tyson, that you forgot that the escape room behind you is now closed,” she said, her tone mocking as Garret’s gaze darted to the now-sealed door behind him. “And while you did that , Cipher was able to snag your very last contingency plan.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kabir discreetly stash a Crazon device he found in the desk, into his vest. My lips twitched into a satisfied grin.

Seizing the moment, I stepped forward, “And now for the final act, darling .”

Recognition painted Garret’s face. In one fluid motion, I drew the concealed knife from my vest and sprung it decisively near his clavicle.

Oh, how I smiled as he screamed bloody murder.