57. Easton
Easton
The storm has mostly burned itself out. Water drips from the brim of my hat as I work on saying my goodbye. Well, not goodbye goodbye. I’ve always hated that word.
I set my hand at Gwen’s waist and draw her close enough that the rest of the team fades to background noise.
“Don’t worry about me. My dad’s here.”
My thumb brushes her jaw once. Then I kiss her. Quick and certain. No hesitation. A promise to come back—not a performance, or the kind of goodbye I refuse to give.
When we pull away, she adjusts the comm unit at my wrist, fingers quick against the casing. “All fifteen of you are tied to my receiver stack. You’re my loudest signal.”
“Favoritism, huh?”
“Efficiency.” She takes hold of my vest like she needs one more second.
I give it to her. I’d give her all the seconds in the world if Julian’s life wasn’t on the line.
“Alpha, Foxtrot, form up. Ninety seconds,” Carter calls out.
“You better come back to me.” She grits out the command, an impassioned plea that I have no intention of disobeying.
I brush my mouth over hers. “You still owe me that I love you. How could I not come back so I can hear it?”
“You knew how I felt even before I did,” she murmurs, still fisting my vest.
“Pretty sure your dad knew before I did.”
Before I say something reckless, I kiss her one last time. From the corner of my eye, I catch Wyatt squaring up next to us.
Wonderful.
She quietly trades places with him.
“Hope you’re not expecting a kiss goodbye, too,” I mutter.
“Just make it back alive, will ya? And with Julian,” he says evenly. “She can’t carry the weight of him dying.”
I’ll never let that happen. “Plan on it.” I swap my ball cap for my helmet, flip my NODs up for now, and sling my rifle properly across my chest.
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “And I assume you have something to ask me when you get back.”
My pulse spikes at what he’s suggesting. “I should probably date her first.” I smirk.
“Yeah, well, I know the kind of man you are. You like to check off every box well in advance.” He grips my shoulder tighter. “Just make sure that conversation with me stays at the top of your list.”
You know what, screw it. If not now, when, right? “So . . . how would you feel about me marrying your daughter?”
His grip doesn’t loosen, but he does go quiet for the longest few seconds of my life. Then, in a strained voice, he rasps, “Nothing would make me happier than walking her down the aisle to you.”
The air leaves my lungs in a slow cloud.
He leans in slightly. “If you wouldn’t mind waiting a little bit to make me a grandfather, though, I’d appreciate it.”
I would laugh if I wasn’t so shocked, but a light huff does escape through my barely parted lips. I clear my throat, trying to work down the emotions locked there.
I nod my OK back but talk about checking off the box of all damn boxes.
Wyatt Pierson granting me permission to both marry his daughter and . . .
He removes his hand from my shoulder and steps aside. After one more not-a-goodbye-goodbye with Gwen, I secure my night vision in place with a surprisingly steady hand, then we roll out.
I have to rely on muscle memory to carry my ass forward, because my head is still lost somewhere between shock and a string of thank fucks.
It’s a decent hike through uneven ground and slick terrain before the facility comes into full view. Surface structures sit quiet. No visible movement. No thermal signatures aboveground. That means everything is below, as we predicted.
“Alpha ready,” Carter says low over comms.
“Foxtrot set,” Gideon answers.
I seal in place my in-ear comm device, which has built-in hearing protection, before we stack on the perimeter entrance. There’s reinforced concrete and a recessed blast door.
“Alpha One. Breachers up.”
Constantine sets the charge and transmits, “Stand by.”
The blast hits as a muted thump through my ear pro. It punches inward, tearing steel and concrete.
“Go. Go,” Carter orders.
Alpha flows through the opening. Carter first, Constantine on my right, and Jesse at my left. Gray’s rear security with Sebastian and Foxtrot just behind.
The IR lasers that are invisible to the naked eye, slice forward under night vision as Carter reports, “Alpha inside.”
“This is TOC, good copy.” Nothing better than hearing Gwen’s voice in my ear.
With the lights out, green floods my vision. My world exists in phosphor glow and drifting dust as I drop the first relay node just inside the threshold.
My ATAK display populates. Blue icons. All fifteen of us are present for Gwen to see on screen, and to also create a map of our movements.
“This is TOC. Mesh chain confirmed. I have you.”
“Roger,” I answer as we flow in farther.
We head down a concrete stairwell, and cold air rises from below.
We move slow and controlled.
At the first landing—
Click.
Motion sensor. A red light springs to life.
“Contact front,” Carter hisses.
The first wave hits fast as six tangos pour from a side corridor. Sounds fold inward—gunfire reduced to dull cracks through my ear protection.
Continued suppressed shots are fired as alarm klaxons erupt through the bunker. The element of surprise is now over, so we push forward.
Halfway down the main corridor, there’s a flash from the far right.
“Frag!” Jack warns.
We pivot, but it’s already airborne. The blast slams through the hallway, a pressure wave punching the air from my lungs.
My ATAK flickers, and the blue icons blink out.
“Alpha, respond!” Gwen’s voice cuts sharp through comms. “I lost—”
“We’re here,” I grunt through the debris. “Alpha is still a go.” The icons reappear, and the mesh re-locks. Julian’s signal is also back and pulsing on my ATAK.
A soft, “Oh thank God,” slides through the comms and into my ear. “I’ve got you again.”
“Primary corridor, keep moving,” Carter orders.
“Negative!” Gwen yells out. “Abort. Don’t go that way.”
“It’s our fastest way,” Gideon says from Foxtrot’s position.
“Not any—anymore,” she snaps out, static clipping her words. “C—Camila . . . she—”
The transmission distorts.
“. . . called.”
We all know exactly what that means.
Carter pivots slightly, pressing a hand against his headset. “Say again.”
“It’s a trap,” she warns.
“Alternate route?” Carter asks.
“Backtrack three hundred meters,” Gwen orders. “To the generator room. Cut through there. It’s a longer route, but you’ll avoid their choke point.”
“We’re losing time,” Gideon grunts in agitation.
“You’re dead if you go straight,” she fires back.
Carter makes the call. “Alpha and Foxtrot, shift. We reroute.”
We peel back, stepping over the bodies we just dropped.
More contact hits us mid-transition. Gray clears left. Constantine right. I slice the pie around a tight corner and drop two tangos before they can shoulder their rifles.
Inside the generator room, alarms layer over the mechanical thrum as Carter holds a fist. “We need to split up. The men waiting for us in that kill zone will come looking soon.” He turns and gestures to Sebastian.
“I’ll stay with him,” Gray offers and orders three other Falcon operators to remain behind as well to buy us time to get to Julian.
Once we exit the generator room, rounds snap overhead from a catwalk. Constantine grabs the back of my vest, yanking me tight to the wall as a round punches into the concrete where my chest just was.
“Shit, thanks,” I grunt.
He nods once and drives forward, covering high while I clear low.
“Alpha Three,” Carter says, nodding toward the catwalk in silent command for Griffin to get up there on overwatch.
Griffin takes off, and we continue forward as Foxtrot converges through the far exit, Gideon now leading the way.
“Signal strength is increasing,” Gwen transmits. “Twenty meters . . . eighteen. You’re closing in.”
My pulse kicks up as we clear the next tunnel and pivot into another corridor. Of course it’s tighter and darker, forcing us single file.
Gunfire erupts behind us.
“Rear contact,” someone snaps out.
“That’s Alpha Three,” Carter says. “He’s holding the tail.”
“The signal’s moving,” Gwen informs us, and everything in me goes still. “It just shifted five meters . . . now ten. They’re relocating the source. You better get the hell out of there. Camila says they’re gonna blow the place up.”
That was always a risk. We know how these assholes operate, and they won’t think twice about taking down their own to cover their tracks.
“We’re not leaving without my brother,” Gideon bites out. “Did Camila see us dying down here?”
The line goes quiet for a half a second too long.
“She doesn’t, no,” Gwen finally replies. “She just sees that the blast will happen, and I’m assuming you don’t have a lot of time before it blows.”
“Then we’ll use what little time we have and make it count,” Gideon grates out.
“This is Alpha One. Rear teams begin exfil. We’re charlie mike’ing and pushing on target,” he says as we accelerate to the reinforced door at the end of the corridor that looms ahead.
Gideon signals breach, and we go in hard. The door caves inward and floodlights slam into our NODs, bleaching the world white.
I rip them up and reacquire—
Shit.
Zoey’s hanging restrained in the center of the room. Wrists bound overhead to a steel support. Her top is off, just her bra and jeans on. Blood is streaking down her torso. She’s been whipped.
There’s a masked man standing behind her, his NODs knocked up to his helmet, with a 9mm pressed tight to her temple. “Take one more step, and she dies.”
Our weapons lock on him in unison.
Carter lets his rifle hang from its sling so he can hold up his hands. “They’re bringing this bunker down. We have to evacuate now.”
The man’s arm wavers.
“Where’s Julian?” Gideon demands, splitting the man’s attention.
Carter tilts his head a fraction, and that’s my cue.
I move fast and drive the mark backward. His pistol discharges, the round punching harmlessly into the ceiling as we hit the floor hard.
I wrench the weapon free, slam his wrist against concrete, and secure him with zip ties in one smooth motion. “Where’d they go?” I hiss close to his ear. “You want to live? Talk.”
He breaks faster than I expected. “Secondary corridor through that side door. Lower tunnel. There’s a secret service exit.”
“Foxtrot with me,” Gideon orders.
Carter grabs his arm. “We can find them up top. This place is coming down the second they’re out.”
“Then I better move fast.” Gideon pulls away, already moving on target without waiting.
Reed catches his wife’s wrist, halting her in place. “You’re going with Alpha.”
Hollis jerks free. “Absolutely not.”
“Dammit, for once in your life, don’t be stubborn.” He pulls her in and crushes his mouth to hers, then he turns and follows Gideon and the rest of their team through the secondary door.
Hollis curses but falls in beside me as Carter frees Zoey and scoops her lifeless body into his arms.
I grab the prick I detained from the floor, check him for additional weapons, then gesture for him to get a move on.
Once in the dark hall, I knock my NODs in place and start after everyone.
Hollis drops an unexpected tango emerging from the bend with a single controlled shot as the alarms continue to wail.
“Thanks,” I say under my breath as somewhere deep in the bunker, something heavy shifts. There’s a structural groan that doesn’t belong to machinery.
“I’m so—sorry.” A soft female voice chokes out as we move. Zoey? She’s awake?
Carter doesn’t react or respond. Just keeps moving.
“You’re out of time!” Gwen cries out, desperation in her voice. “I’m seeing power fluctuations across the grid. You have to get up top now!”
The floor trembles. Dust shifts down from the ceiling.
“Alpha, go, go, go!” Carter yells, full-on sprinting with Zoey in his arms.
Another concussion hits, closer this time. Emergency strips flash along the floor. We continue to run, careful not to trip over fallen bodies.
Hollis stays at my side, and Constantine at my left with Carter just ahead.
As we near the stairs to get up top . . . a blast takes us forward, and a pressure wave slams into us like a freight train. Gwen screams out my name just as the shockwave hits, and Zoey flies from Carter’s grip.
I pivot instinctively and protect Hollis with my body as debris rains down. A chunk of concrete slams into my shoulder blade instead of her skull.
Pain flashes white-hot as the ceiling spiderwebs.
From up top, I catch sight of Nash and Griffin flying toward us, coming back to help. Nash gets to Zoey before Carter can, pulling her into his arms just as another blast, followed by a shockwave, ripples beneath us.
We climb the stairs as heat licks our backs. Hollis falters halfway up, and I circle my arm around her waist to keep her from falling backward.
“Keep moving!” Carter roars as the shaft erupts below us in a blast that steals the air from my lungs.
For a second—
Nothing.
No sound.
No air.
Just white pressure.
We spill out through the hatch onto wet ground as the bunker entrance detonates in a rolling explosion that blows outward into the night. I hit the ground hard, dragging Hollis with me.
Concrete chunks rain down around us. My ears are ringing. Through the haze I hear random static and unintelligible voices, several layered on top of each other. But they’re not coming from my comms until—
“Hollis?” someone says over comms.
Flat on my back, I roll my head to the right to look around. To count the bodies. Ensure everyone made it out safely.
Constantine’s next to me on all fours, bleeding from his brow, but he appears fine.
Hollis has no marks on her, thank God.
“Hollis?” That desperate voice shouts again, and now it’s competing with another—Gwen’s.
She’s checking on us and letting us know they’re driving over.
“I’m okay,” Hollis chokes out, shifting onto her back, working to catch her breath. “Are you?”
Wait, if that was Reed in my ear, does that mean . . .?
“We made it out, but we’re not near you,” her husband answers in a hurry. “We’ve got Julian. He’s alive.”
Relief swells in my chest as I knock my night vision out of the way and stare up at the dark sky.
“Easton?” Gwen again, her voice frantic. “Please tell me you’re o—okay.”
“I’m still here.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “You won’t have to deal with me haunting you anytime soon.”