Chapter Ten #2
Gunfire flared again to the west—two sharp exchanges, then silence.
“Clear left flank,” Hogan called.
“Same here,” Ezra echoed.
Marsh nodded to himself. “We’re taking control. Everyone hold the line.”
Then—a sudden feeling of dread swept through him. He had no idea where it came from, but he suddenly needed to hear Eli’s voice.
“Eli?” he asked. “Report.”
Silence.
“Ty? Blake?”
Nothing.
His stomach dropped.
“Security at comms lab, check-in. Now.”
Still silence.
“Fuck,” Bateman snapped. “Blake, report. Ty?”
Dale swore, torn. “Oren’s down, I—”
“I’m fine,” Oren cut in. “Go. Go to Ty.”
“I got him, Dale,” Hogan said.
Marsh was already moving, sprinting from cover, lungs pumping fire, legs blurring. The ground vanished beneath his feet.
Don’t be gone. Don’t be hurt. Please, God—
Marsh slammed into the lab door, shoulder-first, breath ragged. Bateman and Dale were right behind him, weapons raised, eyes scanning. The scene that greeted them froze Marsh to the floor.
Ty was crumpled beside the monitoring table, a dart sticking from the side of his neck—and another from his shoulder. Blake was slumped against the opposite wall, pale and unmoving, one hand half-curled around a pistol he’d never gotten the chance to lift.
Bateman cursed and dropped to his knees beside Blake, checking his pulse. “He’s alive. Sedative. Strong one.”
Dale was already at Ty’s side, pressing two fingers to his throat. “Same. Shit. Why two darts?”
“Bigger target, maybe,” Bateman muttered.
Marsh didn’t move. Couldn’t. The lab felt like it tilted beneath him, his vision narrowing. Eli wasn’t there.
He was supposed to be there.
And he wasn’t.
The silence pressed in too tightly. Then—Dev’s voice. And the world snapped back into motion.
“Marsh. Get to the build site. Now.”
“What—”
“He’s coming. Black tactical. Full gear. Moving through the trap corridor like he knows it by heart. And he’s got Eli. Gun to his temple.”
Marsh didn’t answer.
He ran faster.
He would rain down fire. He would break the earth open. And he would rip that bastard apart with his bare hands.
No one touched Eli and lived.
Marsh sprinted back the way he came, the world narrowing to the path in front of him. Over the comms, he heard Hogan’s voice shout, “Let him go! If you don’t then I will end you!”
No response.
Then Eli—calm, too calm. “It’s okay, Hogan. Don’t. Everything’s going to be fine.”
“Not a chance,” Hogan said. “You don’t get to be the one bleeding for us again.”
Marsh’s heart clenched as he skidded closer, unable to take his eyes off Eli. The sight of that gun against his temple, of the trust and light in him being held hostage, ignited something feral in Marsh’s chest.
I can’t lose him. I won’t survive it. Not this time.
Memories swirled behind his eyes—of Eli laughing in the sun, curled against him half-asleep, whispering in Māori with a blush on his cheeks. That man was his anchor, his compass. And if someone took him away...
I’d burn the world to the ground and smile while it turned to ash.
He forced himself to breathe, to focus, to see the angles. But his voice when he spoke was raw. “You hear me, Eli. You stay with me. You do everything you can, anything it takes. Because I’m not fucking letting you go.”
Eli sent him a calm look, one that gave him pause.
“Marsh, I will always stay with you,” he said, then added in softly spoken Māori, “Kei te haere au, ehara mō taku anake, engari mō tētahi atu e tika ana kia ora.” I’m going, not for me, but for someone else who deserves to live.
“I love you. I’ll be waiting for you to come get me. ”
Marsh was torn—caught between a desperate belief that Eli had a reason for what he was doing, and the burning chaos in his chest that screamed this was all wrong.
How had it come to this? His heart pounded like a war drum, breath lodged in his throat as the man behind Eli kept the gun steady.
Every fiber of him was ready to launch forward, to rip the bastard apart with his bare hands and paint the dirt with his regret.
Then, movement.
Two figures emerged from the shadows behind Hogan—low, silent, weapons drawn. Predators. Their sights locked on Hogan’s back.
Marsh’s blood ran ice cold.
Another voice broke the tense silence—not over comms, but close, real. Familiar. The man who had Eli. “Hogan—duck.”
A second later Hogan obeyed on instinct, dropping low as the man behind Eli removed the gun from his temple and shot the two advancing figures straight through the head.
Smoke curled from the muzzle of the gun as it moved to press once again to Eli’s temple.
The black SUV rolled to a stop at the edge of the site.
Hogan slowly rose, eyes never leaving the figure in black.
“You son of a bitch,” he said, voice tight. “We trusted you.”
Marsh took a step closer, frowning. “Who is it?”
Hogan didn’t look away. His fists clenched at his sides, shaking. “We fucking trusted you,” he snapped again. “You were supposed to have our backs. You said you understood what we were building here. You said you stood with us.” His voice cracked, thick with betrayal. “And this is what you do?”
He took a half-step forward, teeth bared, fury radiating off him in waves.
“Who the hell is it, Hogan!” Marsh yelled, moving to the side, to get a better shot at the bastard who had taken Eli.
“Answer him.” His voice cracked with rage. “Don’t be a fucking coward, Kai.”