Chapter 42 Will
Will
Lark’s rifle swung toward me before I’d even stopped the crash cart, and my heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to escape my chest. His finger moved to the trigger.
This is it. This is how you die.
But not before you get Brie out. That’s all that matters now.
“Well, well. The fake husband shows up.” He advanced two steps, keeping the weapon trained on my chest with the steady hands of someone who had years of deadly experience.
How did he know we weren’t really married?
Had Brie confessed? “You think you can waltz in here and play hero? You’re about to find out how fast this ends. ”
The barrel looked enormous from this angle—a black hole that would swallow everything I’d never have time to say to Brie, everything we’d never be able to do together.
My fingers wanted to shake, but I forced them steady.
Forced my voice to remain level even though my throat felt like it was closing.
“The Pendragon team released me when they confirmed we’re penetration testers.” Each word came out measured, deliberate. I’d practiced this lie during my sprint through the server corridors, but it sounded thin in the echoing space. “Gideon Tremaine hired us to test Mnemis’s security.”
“I’m sure he did.” Lark’s laugh held no humor, just the flat sound of someone who’d heard every possible deception. “Any other lies you want to tell me before I kill you, Will Reaney?”
Fuck. He knew my real name.
“Will,” said Brie in a rush, “he’s with Fenix.”
The smirk on Lark’s face made my blood run cold. Of course, he was Fenix. For the past six months, every time one of our jobs went south, it was because of them.
Greek Fire. That was it! Fenix had been gathering treasures from ancient civilizations. And this formula was one more item.
Think about it later. Focus on saving Brie.
I kept my hands visible, palms open, despite every instinct screaming at me to move, to fight, to do something other than stand here like a target. But Brie was between us, and any wrong move might get her killed first.
“Claire told me she sabotaged the Orchid server to prevent the Greek Fire formula from being sent out of the data center.” I forced myself to meet his stare, to project the confidence of someone telling the truth.
“It’s a wiring problem in the network stack.
I know exactly what’s wrong and how to fix it. ”
His eyes narrowed, and I could see him calculating—weighing the risk of trusting me against his need for the upload to work. The rifle never wavered. “Or you’re here to create a distraction while Pendragon moves in.”
Hopefully, yes. “I don’t give two shits about whether Fenix gets whatever Haddad was researching or not.
But if you know who we are, you also understand I’ll do anything to protect Brie.
If you promise to let her go once the upload is done, I’ll fix the hardware for you. Otherwise, it’s not going anywhere.”
The silence stretched between us, filled only by the hum of servers and my pulse hammering in my ears. I tried to keep my gaze locked with his, in case he gave any signal that he was about to shoot.
But I couldn’t help checking Brie.
The fear in her eyes made me want to hold her. But the angry red mark across her cheek and the knowledge he’d held a knife to her throat made me want to rush Lark and kill him with my bare hands.
He hurt her. The thought cut through me like a blade. He put his hands on her and hurt her.
Lark studied me for what felt like hours. Then he jerked his head toward the server rack. “Move. You try anything, she dies first. And slowly.”
The casual way he said it—as though we were discussing the weather—made my knees wobble. But I pushed the cart forward, closer to the Orchid server.
As I passed Brie, I noticed her shirt was also torn at the shoulder, revealing a scrape on her collarbone. Tightening my hold on the handle of the crash cart, I mouthed, How are you?
“You shouldn’t have come,” she said, just loud enough for me to hear. The defeated sound of it nearly broke me.
Of course I came. Where else would I be? She was here, in danger, and that meant this was where I belonged. Even if it killed me. Especially if it killed me, if it meant she’d live.
The door to rack fifteen was already open, with a demolition block on the floor, along with tape and a roll of detonation cord.
Bloody hell, he was going to blow the server when he was done.
I stopped myself before I looked at Brie and thought again about tackling Lark so Brie could escape.
Instead, I focused on the scene in front of me. Lark had plastered blocks of C-4 on and around the server.
Not good.
I pulled the server unit out on its rails and examined the rear connections, easily identifying the damage.
Claire had done a thorough job—several fiber optic cables in the bundle were frayed, and the network interface card was loose in its slot.
It was professional sabotage disguised as maintenance issues.
Fixing it was familiar. I’d done repairs like this hundreds of times before. But never with a rifle pointed at my back, never while the woman I loved stood bleeding twenty feet away, never while calculating how many minutes I could stretch this before Lark lost patience and started shooting.
“Fifteen minutes,” I told him.
“Make it five, or she’s dead.”
Five minutes? That was nowhere near enough time for a rescue. But maybe I could build trust, keep him talking, find some kind of opening.
“This is difficult with only two hands.” I began disconnecting the damaged cables, my movements deliberately slow and careful. “You could help me speed this up.”
“You think I’m stupid enough to stand close to you?”
I’d hoped, yes. He was bigger than me, trained in delivering death, and holding an M4. However, he was also desperate, and desperate people often made mistakes.
“Then it takes fifteen minutes.” I grabbed a roll of fiber-optic cable from the crash cart. “Your choice.”
He moved about ten feet down the server row, positioning himself to watch both me and Brie. This wasn’t some random thug—this was someone who knew what he was doing.
Which made him infinitely more dangerous.
I worked slowly, deliberately drawing it out while also examining the blocks of C-4 he’d attached to the servers in the rack. One lined the front of the Orchid server, while others stretched up and down along the other servers. Detcord connected all of them, with a detonator at the end.
“Planning to blow the whole area?” I asked, trying to sound casual while panic splintered inside me.
“Shut up and work.”
But he didn’t deny it. Which meant that when this upload finished, he intended to destroy all the evidence, including us.
I kept working, asking him to hand me tools from the cart—crimpers, cable testers, spare connectors. Small things that required him to move, to look away from Brie for seconds at a time. Building whatever minimal trust I could while searching for an opening.
The repair was actually simple—fifteen minutes had been generous. But every extra second was one more for Rav and the Pendragon team to get into position.
“Try it now.”
Brie nodded and went back to typing. I couldn’t hear the sound in the room, but could in my memory. How many times had I just sat and appreciated the rhythm of her fingers on her keyboard?
“Oh, thank fuck,” said Brie. “It’s working.”
I gripped the Orchid server on either side and began to push it back on its slides.
The indicator light above the Orchid server changed from blue to red. That was the signal I’d told Claire to use. Pendragon was in position.
Thank all the powers that be.
“Why did the light change?” Lark asked, moving closer to examine it. To Brie, he hollered, “You told me to watch for lights on this server. Why’s the one above it changing color?”
My mouth went dry. If he figured out what it meant—if he realized the cavalry was coming—he’d start shooting.
“Must have jostled something when I was working.” I reached for the server cleaning solvent on my cart—industrial degreaser in a pressurized canister. The weight was solid in my hand, reassuring. “Maintenance will fix it later.”
If there is a later.
Lark was still looking at the light, his brow furrowed in concentration. He knew something was wrong. In another few seconds, he’d figure out what.
I thought about my mother’s last clear day, when she’d looked at me with recognition and told me how proud she was. About Brie’s face when she’d whispered she loved me. About all the tomorrows we’d never see if I didn’t move right now.
So I moved.
The chemical stream from my degreaser hit him in the face before he could react. He screamed, a raw sound of shock and pain, letting go of the rifle as he clawed at his burning eyes. The weapon fell against his chest on its strap, and I lunged for it before he recovered.
He was blinded and choking on the chemicals, but the rifle was still attached to him. I couldn’t take it, but I could keep him from using it. My hands closed around the barrel as his fingers found the grip again.
“Brie, run!” I shouted, putting everything I had into those two words. All my strength, all my love, all my need for her to live even if I didn’t.
Because that’s what mattered. Not the mission, not the upload, not my own life.
Just her. Always her.
If this was how it ended—wrestling for a rifle with a trained killer—at least I’d tried. At least I’d come for her.
At least she’d know, in whatever time we had left, that she was worth dying for.