Bound By Thorns (Squad Six #2)

THIRTY-THREE

Logan

“Gunner, this is Ghost on a secure line, just you and me,” Zarek’s voice filled my ear. I kept my face calm, but my insides twisted. There were not many reasons Zarek would choose to address only one member out of the team.

“Listen carefully,” he continued, “Team 1 is out; Ranger and Shadow are down. Team 2 can’t reach your position—they’re four floors below. And Gunner, Garret’s men have your floor surrounded.”

As Zarek delivered the grim update, I watched Kaylan plunge her knife into Garret again, her face lit with a fierce grin. I should have felt a surge of pride, but the quake in Zarek’s voice knotted my stomach, derailing my thoughts.

He continued, “Make up an excuse. I’ve ordered Falcon to not mention this to Kabir. Just make up an excuse and cover them, Gunner. I’ve got Zane covering the other side.”

I couldn’t react, I couldn’t speak, but I knew my heavy sigh would be relayed in affirmative.

“Good. Is she okay?” His voice was drenched with fear, so I knew he was asking about Leora.

Seizing the opportunity to reassure him without raising suspicion, I turned to Leora, raising my voice just enough for Zarek to hear. “Doc, need anything else over here?”

“All good,” she responded but confusion flickered across her face.

My heart pounded as the weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders—I knew Kabir, Leora, and Kaylan’s lives depended on the decisions I made next. With a deliberate calm, I declared, “I’ll head out and secure the perimeters for an exit.” My eyes lingered on Kaylan for a moment longer than necessary. She was engrossed in watching Garret’s life ebb away. Part of me longed to stay by her side, to support her in this visceral moment.

Stay alive, Chaos.

As I reached for the office door knob, a knot of fear tightened in my chest. Opening the door, I stepped out into the corridor, softly closing it behind me, sealing my team away from the chaos that was about to unfold. The corridor’s silence was eerie, a stark contrast to the storm I had just left inside. I knew it was only a matter of time before Garret’s reinforcements would converge on the office.

My steps were silent as I rounded the corner into the main hall. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a swift movement—a shadow darting just a few meters ahead. Clutching my rifle tightly, I followed, using the line of pillars for cover, ready for whatever awaited me around each turn.

Lastly, I left my possibly final message to team 3, “Cipher, Doc, Healer. Exit compromised. Do not leave the office until Ghost says so.”

Kaylan

“You…you’re m-making a mistake,” Garret wheezed, his voice weak, gurgling as blood pooled around his torso. His once-pristine, tailored suit was torn and soaked in crimson, the deep gashes I’d carved into him making his shirt’s original color unrecognizable.

“No,” I said, my voice low, trembling with a mixture of vengeance and something darker—something more hollow. “I’m making an example, darling.”

But the sound that escaped me didn’t feel like my own voice. It was raw and foreign, as though it belonged to someone else entirely. Someone who knew she couldn’t let this man live another second longer but still wanted him to suffer .

I wanted him to beg, to plead, to feel even a sliver of the helplessness he had inflicted on so many—on me . But he didn’t. He never would. Garret thrived on torture; it was his element, his home. And that made this moment feel devastatingly empty.

Blood dribbled from his lips as he coughed, attempting to give me that smug, insufferable smirk one last time. “You will see, s-soon,” he rasped. “My d-death… would accomplish n-nothing.”

The words slithered into the cracks of my mind, planting the smallest, cruelest seed of doubt. Was he right? Would killing him change anything? Would it ease the crushing weight I carried every single day?

I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and took a steadying breath. No. I couldn’t afford to let those thoughts fester. Not now. My grip tightened around the knife as I scanned the room, desperate for a moment of clarity. That’s when I noticed Logan wasn’t there anymore.

My heart skipped, panic seeping into my veins. Where was he? The room felt unbearably empty without him.

Garret groaned, his voice dragging me back into the present. “Even if I d-die…”

“Booooring,” I cut him off, forcing false levity into my words. I didn’t want to hear his voice anymore.

In one swift motion, I slit his throat, the blade slicing clean from ear to ear.

The sound of his wet, strangled gasp echoed through the room for a moment before silence overtook everything.

Silence.

But was it truly silent? Or were my ears ringing from the finality of what I’d done? The vengeance I had longed for, the blood I’d spilled—it should’ve felt satisfying. It should’ve felt like triumph. But all I felt was an aching, hollow void.

I stared at his lifeless body, blood spreading across the floor in a dark, viscous pool. My breathing slowed, but the heaviness in my chest didn’t ease.

Then, my earpiece crackled to life, and a voice pierced the silence.

“Cipher, Doc, Healer. Exit compromised. Do not leave the office until Ghost says so.”

Logan .

The sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, a sharp contrast to the numbness that had gripped me moments ago. The way he spoke—calm, calculated, commanding—it made my stomach twist.

Because he wasn’t here.

I glanced around the room again, as if somehow my gaze would summon him back, would make him reappear like he hadn’t just walked away.

But he was gone.

I stood there, frozen, staring at the door like it held all the answers, like Logan might walk back in and make sense of everything. But the door stayed closed, and the blood on my hands began to feel heavier, stickier.

He left. He left me.

I wanted to scream at him, towards him, for him. I didn’t care. I wanted my Logan by my side.

My heart constricted, every beat a loud thump against my chest as if trying to escape the confines of my ribcage.

“Fuck,” Kabir mumbled, resigned.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, steadying my breath, focusing on the task at hand.

Zarek’s voice cut through the tense air. “Team 3, Gunner is securing your exit. Move out, single file.”

Leora, always brave, was the first to step out. The moment the door swung open, the distant crack of gunfire froze me in place. Logan was out there, in the thick of it. Each burst of gunfire was a stark reminder that he was still fighting, still drawing breath.

Kabir was next, clutching the crucial Crazon device. As the one with the most vital equipment, he needed all the cover we could give. My heart pounded as I followed close behind, stepping into the uncertain corridor, my senses heightened, listening for the next round of shots, praying each one wasn’t Logan’s last.

The main hall was a grim tableau, strewn with the bodies of Logan’s relentless advance. As we emerged, the echoes of gunfire had shifted, now distant, towards the helipad entrance. Peering through the chaos, I could just make out fragments of the helicopter—our lifeline—Zane had prepared for our escape.

The cacophony of gunfire and shouts swirled around me. Leora and Kabir flanked me, their movements sharp and precise as we darted through.

As we reached the exterior, the cool air of the helipad slapped against my face, snapping me back to the immediacy of our escape. Zane was already there, the helicopter’s blades whipping a furious torrent around us, drowning out the lesser sounds of the battlefield. Zane covered them with his shower of bullets as Leora and Kabir ducked into the helicopter, their bodies momentarily silhouetted against the harsh lights.

Just as I turned to follow, a force yanked me back by the collar of my vest. The world tilted dangerously as my back slammed against the cold concrete. My eyes met those of Tyka— his grip iron, his face a mask of vengeance. Anger flared in his eyes, igniting my fury that had simmered since my escape from Ravenrock.

“Thought you could just fly away, Kaylan?” Tyka’s voice was a venomous hiss as his hands tightened around my throat, stealing the air from my lungs. My gaze shifted towards two men readying an RPG for the helicopter.

“Go, go, go !!!” I managed to scream, my voice hoarse and desperate. From the corner of my eye, I saw the helicopter lift, dodging the RPG that screamed past, its tail a comet. Kabir and Leora were now out of immediate danger. I focused back on Tyka, my survival instincts peaking.

I tried to push him off myself and snaked my hands around his throat in retaliation. As my grip tightened, Tyka’s loosened only slightly enough to give me a window of opportunity. I threw a punch across his jaw and got out of his hold entirely.

Suddenly, Logan was there, his presence slicing through the tension. He tackled Tyka, his fists and elbows blurs of motion. But Tyka was relentless, his own training evident as he parried and struck back with equal viciousness. Their guns now skittered across the floor of the helipad. The fight teetered on the edge of the helipad. I aimed my gun at their fight, unable to find a clear opening without hurting Logan.

With a blow emanating finality, Logan threw an unforgiving punch to his temple and Tyka went down.

A misstep, and I saw Logan stumble backward from the edge, his silhouette framed against the void. His fingers grasped the edge of the helipad, his body dangling precariously. I lunged forward, my hands clasping his in a grip tight enough to bruise just as his slipped from the edge.

“Hold on!” I shouted, my voice raw with fear. I saw the shallow swimming pool below him as his entire frame dangled, approximately five floors down. The fall would be fatal.

I didn’t know it then, but that moment started the longest twenty seconds of my life.

“Chaos,” Logan grunted in resignation.

“No! Climb the fuck up!” I screamed. “You climb!”

His hands slipped further from mine as he had nothing but my forearms to latch on to. He could easily climb up. I knew it.

But he also didn’t want to hurt me in the process or risk me falling with him.

His weight pulled me down, hurting my ribs, the magazines in my vest digging into my skin.

I knew I couldn’t hold on any longer.

This isn’t happening!

“Baby, it’s okay,” Logan pleaded.

“No!” I roared. My voice, unrecognizable.

A scream tore through me. “Help! Help !!!” I shouted. “Ghost, c-come in!”

I was sobbing uncontrollably. Then I shifted my focus back to Logan who was chanting, “look at me” on a constant loop.

“Please, please, please . This can’t be happening!” I pleaded with whoever would hear me.

I felt a presence behind me then. Unrelenting arms coiling around my neck with a snake-like precision.

“Two birds,” Tyka hissed, “one fucking throat!”

My vision tunneled, the world narrowing to the feel of Logan slipping from my grasp, Tyka’s embrace tightening.

“Kaylan! Kaylan!” Logan screamed, but I was relentless. I wouldn’t let go of Logan. Not like this!

In a desperate, final act, Logan’s grip on me loosened as he wrestled a spare gun from his waist, aiming over my shoulder at Tyka. Time fractured. The gunshot was a thunderclap, splitting the world into before and after.

One second I was suffocating, both in fear and Tyka’s deadly grip. The next, the weight vanished.

I was suddenly, terrifyingly free—of Tyka’s hold and of Logan’s life.

I watched in helpless horror as Logan fell, his body hurtling toward the shimmering surface of the pool below.

My chest tightened, a scream clawing at my throat but refusing to come out. It stayed there, useless, as if my body couldn’t keep up with the devastation unfolding in front of me.

The water erupted as he hit, the impact too violent, too final.