Chapter 83 Damian
Damian
The stairwell was a kill box.
Gunfire rained down from the landing above, bullets sparking off the railings, biting into the walls. We dove for cover, Oliver throwing himself against the far side, Gage crouched low, rifle braced tight. Cyclone hugged his laptop like a lifeline, pressed flat against the steps.
“They’re flooding the exits,” Gage snarled. “We’re boxed in.”
“Not for long,” I growled.
I signaled Oliver. He nodded, already pulling a flash from his vest. A quick thumb on the pin, then he lobbed it up the stairwell. The world exploded white. Shouts. Chaos.
We moved.
I charged up the steps, rifle spitting fire. Two men dropped before they could recover from the flash, another scrambling blindly into the railing. I slammed the butt of my weapon into his jaw, felt the crunch, then kept going.
“Clear!” I shouted, and the others surged behind me.
The second-floor corridor stretched ahead, smoke curling, alarms still screaming. More boots pounded toward us—reinforcements from the far end.
Oliver dropped to one knee, firing controlled bursts. Gage covered our flank. Cyclone kept his head down, his voice tight in my ear: “The data’s clean, Damian. It’s everything we need—contacts, accounts, safe routes. If we can get this to command, Luthor’s network burns.”
Good. Because I was ready to burn it all.
We sprinted down the hall, pushing through gunfire. A bullet grazed my ribs, hot and sharp, but I barely flinched. The only thing that mattered was getting out. Getting back.
Morgan’s face flashed in my mind—her eyes fierce even when she was afraid, her voice whispering my name like it meant something more than survival.
I pushed harder. Faster.
The stairwell to the loading bay yawned open ahead. “Go!” I barked. Oliver and Gage cleared the corners, dropping the last two guards standing between us and daylight.
We hit the bay doors just as our SUV engines roared outside. Backup was right where I’d told them to be.
Oliver shoved the doors wide, and we spilled into the morning air, lungs burning, bodies slick with sweat and smoke. The SUV doors slammed, engines revved, and then we were rolling, the warehouse shrinking in the mirrors, flames licking the sky behind us.
Cyclone cradled the laptop in his lap, his face grim but satisfied. “We’ve got them, Damian. This is the thread that unravels everything.”
I leaned back, rifle across my knees, my breath coming hard. My body ached, blood damp on my side, blood poured from my shoulder, but none of it mattered.
Because the only thing in my head was Morgan.
And the promise I’d made her.
I’ll come back to you.