Chapter 26
EVELYN
It had been eight hours since we’d confirmed Sophia’s destination was the research facility in Helsinki.
Seven hours since we’d boarded the chartered flight.
Six hours crossing the Atlantic.
One hour since landing in Finland.
I felt every second my daughter was in danger, every breath she was in Innovixus’s hands.
I pressed my forehead against the cool metal of the panel van’s interior wall, trying to steady my breathing.
We’d positioned ourselves along the E75 highway, a strategic point on the route from Helsinki airport to the Innovixus research campus.
The tactical vest Trent had insisted I wear felt suffocating, the weight unfamiliar and restrictive across my chest.
“Target convoy maintaining course,” Kate’s voice came through my earpiece. “Four vehicles. Mercedes in position two, containing primary package.”
Primary package.
My daughter.
My five-year-old little girl, who liked strawberry ice cream and counted stars and never let anyone touch her stuffed rabbit except me.
Reduced to an extraction term.
Ozzy had hacked into Innovixus while we were airborne and discovered that they were moving Sophia to another, even more secure, black-site facility today, which made the team’s job both easier and harder.
Easier than breaching Fort Knox. Harder because overtaking a convoy on the road was public. Messy. Dangerous.
But it was our only chance.
“Copy that,” Ethan’s voice, commander flat. “Roadblock teams, sound off.”
“Outlaw and Dealer, ready on primary.” Flynn’s voice carried that lazy Texas drawl even now.
“Sly, Preacher, secondary position set.” Leo’s voice was all business.
“Got three surprises placed along the route,” Rafe said, avoiding using his call sign ‘Sparky’, which I’d discovered he despised. “Give the word, and they’ll know we mean business.”
“Siren in position on overwatch.” Lyric’s voice was cool as glass. “Got eyes on the whole mess.”
“Maverick standing by with the finest ‘borrowed’ helicopter Finland has to offer. She flies like a dream.” Of course Nolan sounded like this was all good fun. I knew he’d do everything in his power to save Sophia, but I hated how flippant he sounded.”
“Vigil and Clarity, on standby in extraction vehicle,” Trent said from beside me, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of my thoughts.
The sounds of our cult names sent a chill down my spine. When Kate suggested I use Clarity as my call sign, I wanted to reclaim it as something strong, something good… but I just couldn’t. “Can we change those for next time?”
Trent looked at me, and a small, sad smile tipped the corner of his mouth. “There’s not going to be a next time. After this, you’ll never have to hear that name ever again.”
Tears flooded my eyes as I nodded.
“No time for that now,” Trent said softly and reached out to brush one away with his thumb.
I straightened my shoulders and sucked in a deep breath, pulling myself together. He was right. I could break down later, but right now, his team and my daughter needed me to be strong.
“Tell me the plan again.”
He leaned closer, his shoulder pressing against mine as he spread a map across our knees. His finger traced the planned route.
“We’re here,” he said, tapping where the highway curved between two gentle hills. “Gage and Alistair block the road here, stopping the convoy between these two overpasses. Rafe’s charges blow on the forward overpass, blocking them in. Leo will then deploy the EMP to disable their vehicles.”
“Won’t the EMP take out our vehicles, too?”
“No, it’s localized. As long as we stay outside the blast radius, we’ll be fine.”
“Okay.” I nodded, but my stomach still twisted in on itself. There were so many things that could go wrong. “And then?”
“Then Flynn and Decker will move on the security vehicles while Ethan and I extract Sophia. Lyric provides cover fire from the overpass behind us. Nolan brings the helicopter in for extraction. We’ll fly to the coast, dump the helo, and take a boat to Estonia.”
I’d heard the plan six times already. It didn’t matter how many times I heard it—nothing could make this plan sound safe or certain.
“What if she’s not in the convoy?”
“Kate confirmed heat signatures. One adult, one child in the back seat of the center vehicle.”
“What if something goes wrong?” I asked, the question burning in my throat.
“Then we adapt.” Trent’s hand covered mine and stilled my trembling fingers. “That’s what we do. Handle one problem at a time.”
I pulled away because I didn’t want him to feel how sweaty my hands were. I adjusted the too-heavy tactical vest again. It wouldn’t stop a direct hit, Alistair had explained when he handed it to me, but it would slow things down enough to maybe save my life.
Sophia wouldn’t have a vest.
Oh, God.
“Two minutes to intercept,” Kate updated. “Convoy moving at 110 kilometers per hour.”
My throat tightened. I pictured Sophia on that plane, surrounded by strangers, confused, terrified.
Asking for me. I saw her at the facility, strapped to a table while some lab techs prepared her neural mapping equipment.
Needles and electrodes, and my daughter’s small body jerking against restraints.
Cold sweat broke across my forehead. The van felt too small. The air too thick.
“I can’t breathe,” I whispered and tugged at the vest straps.
Trent’s hands caught mine. “Yes, you can. Focus on me.” His eyes held mine. “We’re going to get her back. Right now. Then we’re going to burn Innovixus to the ground so they never touch her again.”
“What if we fail?”
“Not an option,” he said simply.
“But if we do—“
“Then we try again. We find another way. We don’t stop until she’s safe.” His thumb brushed across my knuckles. “But we’re not going to fail.”
“Vehicles coming into view,” Kate reported. “Confirmation on package in car two.”
My heart stuttered, and I keyed the button on my mic. “She’s there? You’ve seen her?”
“Thermal confirmation only. But yes. Child-sized heat signature in the back seat of the Mercedes.”
The breath I’d been holding rushed out. She was there. So close.
“Keep the channel clear,” Ethan growled. “Ten seconds. Remember, hold fire unless we have no choice. We’re not here to start a war.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Flynn muttered over the comms. I heard the smile in his voice.
“Nine,” Kate counted. “Eight. Seven.”
Trent crouched by the van’s side door, every muscle drawn tight.
“Four. Three. Two.”
“Go,” Ethan said, all business.
Everything happened at once. A concert of impact and chaos: tire shrieks, the screech of metal grating metal, crunches that rattled through my chest. Flynn’s truck jammed the road.
The convoy’s lead security ride stood on its brakes, tires howling over the tarmac.
The Mercedes behind slipped sideways, almost taking out the next car in the stack.
Then Rafe let the first charge go.
The blast wasn’t Hollywood massive, but it was close enough. Smoke geysered up as the overpass collapsed, trapping the convoy as planned.
“That’s one,” came Rafe, deadpan even with adrenaline amped. “Want number two?”
“Negative,” Ethan shot back. “Stick to the plan. EMP on my mark. Three. Two. One. Now.”
Leo hit the trigger. Headlights on the security vehicles fizzled out, engines coughed and died, the night swallowing up every sound. Just like that, doors flew open, and guards started pouring out, weapons up.
Lyric didn’t hesitate. From her perch, she laid down cover fire with non-lethal rounds. Guards went down, not dead, but hit hard enough to keep them hugging the pavement. Enough to break bone. Enough to make them rethink every life choice.
Two quick pops rang out, different from the controlled shots I’d been hearing. Leo’s body jerked backward, and I heard him grunt in pain over the comms.
“Taking fire!” His voice was strained.
“You hit?” Alistair shouted.
“Rounds to the vest. Hurt like hell but didn’t punch through.”
“All teams, weapons free,” Ethan commanded, his voice turning to steel. “I repeat, weapons free. Protect the package at all costs.”
The tone of the firefight changed instantly.
More guards poured from vehicles, better armed than we’d anticipated. The whine of bullets sliced through the air, pinging off metal, cracking into pavement. This wasn’t the clean extraction we’d planned. This was a war zone.
“South side’s got three shooters,” Lyric reported, same as always, calm even when things got wild. “Taking them now.”
Three suppressed shots, spaced the way only training and nerves could deliver. Three more guards folded, but this time their blood stained the pavement.
“Mercedes driver’s trying to run the blockade,” Flynn said. “Taking him out.”
Another crack. The driver slumped, and the car skidded out, blocking both lanes in dramatic fashion.
“Fuck!” Trent flung the van door wide and jumped out, tossing a warning over his shoulder. “Stay down until I call.”
Then he was gone, racing toward the Mercedes.
I caught the moment through the sliver in the van door. Trent made it to the Mercedes and yanked open the rear passenger side. He reached in, then straightened, and brought out—
Sophia.
My daughter.
Alive.
Her small body was cradled against his chest, face buried in his shoulder, her hair tangled, her pink shirt rumpled. But she was here. Alive. Thirty feet away from me.
I was moving before conscious thought told me it wasn’t a good idea, throwing myself out of the van, sprinting across the exposed highway toward my daughter.
Bullets pinged off the pavement nearby.
Someone shouted for me to get down.
I didn’t stop.
Sophia’s head lifted from Trent’s shoulder, and the sound that tore from her throat was half sob, half scream. Relief and terror and desperate hope.
“Mommy!”
Trent turned and spotted me running toward them. If he was angry, he didn’t show it; instead, he moved to meet me halfway and passed Sophia into my arms in one smooth motion.