Chapter 84 Beckett
Beckett
The door didn’t creak—it screamed.
I kicked it open, and the world went white and loud. Gunfire ripped through the warehouse, the muzzle flashes strobing off metal walls. Viktor’s men opened up from behind stacked crates, the echo like thunder rolling through steel.
I hit the floor, pulling Elara down with me, bullets biting sparks from the concrete. “Left side!” I shouted.
She was already there, sliding into cover, returning fire with a precision that made the air sing. One shot, two—both clean. A body hit the ground somewhere ahead, the sound lost under the roar.
“Push forward!” I shouted.
We moved in sync, the rhythm automatic now—cover, fire, advance. The corridor funneled us into a wide bay lined with shipping containers and lit by cold, sterile lights. At the far end, standing in front of a shattered control console, was Viktor.
He didn’t flinch at the bullets tearing up the air around him. He just smiled.
“You made it farther than most,” he called, his voice calm, almost bored. “I should thank you. Grand wanted this city purged of weakness. You’ve done half the work for him.”
“Funny,” I said, stepping into the open, rifle raised. “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”
He tilted his head, amused. “Still a soldier, even when you’re drowning in the bodies you’ve piled up. Tell me—how many more before you start to feel clean again?”
I fired. He moved—fast. The bullet shattered the metal post beside him, and his return shot grazed my shoulder. The pain was sharp, but it cleared my head like a slap.
Elara swung around from the side, her pistol barking twice. Viktor ducked behind a crate, grabbed a fallen rifle, and fired blind toward her. Sparks danced off the wall inches from her face.
“Elara!”
“I’m fine!” she shouted back, voice steady. “Keep him pinned!”
I reloaded, rolled across open ground, and came up behind another container. The whole place smelled of oil, blood, and ozone. My pulse was thunder. The smoke was getting thick.
Viktor’s voice echoed through the smoke. “You think you’ve won because you freed a few hostages? Hydra isn’t an organization—it’s a bloodline. You can’t kill what’s already inside you.”
“Then let’s find out,” I muttered.
He lunged from cover, close enough for me to see the flash of his knife. I barely brought my rifle up in time. The blade caught the stock, splintering wood. He drove forward with brutal strength, slamming me against a steel beam.
I dropped the rifle, blocked the next strike, and hit him across the jaw with my elbow. He staggered, spat blood, and laughed. “Finally,” he hissed. “Something real.”
He came at me again. We collided in a blur of fists, metal, and pain. His knife sliced a shallow line across my arm; I slammed him into the wall hard enough to rattle the bolts.
“Elara!” I yelled.
She fired once—clean shot. The bullet clipped Viktor’s shoulder, spinning him sideways. I surged forward, drove my knee into his gut, and ripped the knife from his hand.
He hit the floor, breath ragged, eyes burning like he still thought he could win. “You think killing me ends this?”
“No,” I said, pressing the barrel of my rifle against his chest. “But it’s a damn good start.”
He smiled through the blood. “Then do it, soldier. Show me how merciful you really are.”
I hesitated—just for a heartbeat.
That’s when he swung. His hand came up fast, slamming a detonator against the floor. The ground shook—the dull, heavy sound of timed explosives arming somewhere below.
“Beckett!” Elara screamed.
Viktor’s laugh echoed off the steel. “You can’t win, Guardian. You can only burn with the rest of it!”
I pulled the trigger.
The shot split the air. Viktor fell back, the detonator clattering from his hand. For a moment, everything stopped—sound, motion, even breath.
Then the timer began to beep.
Elara’s eyes went wide. “Beckett—”
“I know!” I grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward the exit. The timer screamed faster.
“Cyclone!” I barked into the comm. “We’ve got explosives armed under the port floor—get everyone clear!”
His voice came back panicked and loud. “How much time?”
“Not enough!”
We ran, boots pounding metal. Behind us, Viktor’s body slumped against the wall, that damned smile still frozen on his face.
We didn’t look back. There wasn’t time to.