Chapter 25 Wrecker
WRECKER
The scrapyard smelled like rust, oil, and old rain.
The kind of place that hid sins in plain sight.
We cut the engine a quarter mile out and finished on foot, moving through tall grass and broken fencing like shadows.
The night was quiet in the way that made my skin itch.
No music. No talking. Just the distant hum of machinery from the legal side of the yard and the soft crunch of boots on gravel.
Ghost’s voice came through the earpiece, barely more than breath. “Jammer’s cycling. You’ve got a three-minute window before the next burst.”
“Copy,” Cap murmured.
I felt it in my bones. The tension. The wrongness. This place wasn’t meant to hold people long. It was meant to break them just enough to move them again.
We reached the perimeter fence and dropped low. Ranger signaled from the far side, Smoke pressed tight to his leg, body rigid, ears forward. He’d gone still in that way that meant he’d picked up something human. Alive.
My pulse kicked.
Brutus leaned in close. “You smell that?”
I nodded. Blood. Fear. Sweat.
Scout.
Cap raised two fingers. Split.
Brutus peeled off left. I went right, skirting the edge of a stack of crushed cars that loomed like a graveyard of steel. My hand stayed tight on my weapon, finger indexed, breath slow and controlled.
Quiet. That was the rule.
No shouting.
No warnings.
No mistakes.
A man stepped out of the back building, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.
I was on him before the smoke left his lungs.
One hand over his mouth. Knife in. Out. Catch the body. Lower it slow. Lay him flat.
Ghost’s voice again. “Two inside the shell. One stationary. One pacing.”
Cap didn’t respond. He didn’t need to.
We reached the rear entrance. The door was metal, cheap lock, poorly maintained. Brutus tested it once, then twice.
I shook my head.
He smiled grimly.
The door came off its hinges with a muffled crack as he shouldered it inward, catching it before it slammed.
We flowed inside.
The building was smaller than it looked from the outside. One open space divided by makeshift walls. Extension cords snaked across the floor. A single bulb hung overhead, swaying slightly.
The pacing guard didn’t have time to turn.
Brutus hit him like a freight train, hand clamping down over his face as my knife flashed. He dropped without a sound.
The second guard was seated near a table littered with phones and paperwork, head down, headphones on.
I took him down from behind. Quick. Clean.
The silence that followed was heavier than the noise.
I scanned the room.
Then I saw it.
A door at the far end. Heavier. Reinforced. Newer than everything else in the building.
I held my breath.
Cap came up beside me. “That’ll be it.”
I nodded once.
We didn’t rush it.
Brutus checked the frame. Solid. No lock visible from this side.
Ranger moved in, Smoke tense at his heel. The dog whined softly, tail stiff, eyes fixed on the door.
I took a slow breath and let it out through my nose.
The door didn’t match the rest of the building. Everything else in here was temporary. Patched walls, exposed wiring, locks meant to be replaced or ripped out when they moved on. This door was different. Reinforced steel. New bolts. Fresh welds still bright at the seams.
Someone had decided what was behind it was worth slowing us down for.
Smoke let out a low, uneasy sound in his chest. Not a bark. Not a growl. A warning.
Alive, my instincts said. But not untouched.
I shifted my stance, rolling my shoulders once, grounding myself in the familiar weight of my gear. I’d kicked in doors before. Plenty of them. But this one carried a different kind of risk. The kind where you don’t get to unsee what’s on the other side.
Cap glanced at me, reading the hesitation I didn’t bother hiding.
“You good?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “Yeah.”
Because hesitation wasn’t doubt. It was preparation.
Brutus stepped forward, planting his feet, muscles coiling under his jacket. The metal groaned as he tested it, just enough to feel where it would break.
I angled myself off to the side, knife loose in my hand, breath slow and steady.
Whatever was behind that door, I was going through it.
Cap leaned in. “Ghost.”
“Door’s hot,” Ghost said. “No cameras inside. Power draw spikes behind it.”
Brutus rolled his shoulders. “Say when.”
Cap looked at me. Held my gaze.
“You ready?”
I was already moving.
Brutus planted his feet and drove his shoulder forward.
The door gave way with a dull, ugly crack.
The smell hit first.
Stale air. Sweat. Blood. Something sour that turned my stomach.
Scout was slumped against the far wall, wrists bound, ankles chained. His head was down, hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His shirt was gone. Bruises bloomed dark and angry across his ribs and shoulders. One eye was swollen nearly shut.
For a split second, I didn’t recognize him.
Then his head snapped up.
“Fuck you,” he rasped, voice raw and vicious. “I already told you—”
He froze.
Blinking hard.
“Wrecker?” His voice broke on my name.
I crossed the room in three strides and dropped to my knees in front of him.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “You’re safe.”
Scout laughed. It came out broken and sharp, more like a bark than anything else. “That’s new.”
Brutus was already cutting the restraints, hands surprisingly gentle for a man his size. Ranger crouched nearby, scanning for movement, Smoke pressed close, tail wagging once when Scout looked at him.
Scout sucked in a sharp breath as the cuffs came away, his shoulders twitching like his body hadn’t realized yet that it was allowed to move again.
“Easy,” I murmured, keeping one hand braced against his back. “You’re not in a hurry anymore.”
He huffed out something that might’ve been a laugh if it hadn’t turned into a grimace halfway through. “Body didn’t get that memo.”
When Brutus eased him forward, Scout’s knees buckled. Just for a second. Just enough that I felt the full weight of him hit my arm as I caught him.
“Still got you,” I said quietly.
His forehead dropped to my shoulder again, breath shaking this time. He stayed there longer than he meant to. Longer than he would’ve if anyone else was watching.
“They kept the lights on,” he muttered. “All the time. Makes it harder to tell how long it’s been.”
My jaw tightened.
I shifted my stance, taking more of his weight without comment. He noticed anyway. He always did.
“Didn’t think you’d be the one carrying me out,” he added hoarsely.
“Yeah,” I said. “Well. Don’t get used to it.”
That got a real laugh out of him. Short. Painful. But real.
Scout swallowed hard. “You brought the whole fucking circus, huh?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I said.
His hands shook as the cuffs fell away. He sucked in a breath like it hurt just to exist.
“Easy,” I murmured. “We’ve got you.”
He leaned forward suddenly, forehead knocking into my shoulder, breath hitching hard. His fingers curled into my vest like he needed something solid to hold onto.
I wrapped an arm around him without thinking.
“You’re alive,” I said, voice rough. “You did good.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, one eye swollen, the other blazing.
“They didn’t break me,” he said hoarsely. “Tried. Didn’t work.”
“I know,” I said.
Cap knelt on Scout’s other side. “Can you walk?”
Scout snorted. “I’m not dying here if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Good,” Cap said. “Because we’re leaving.”
Brutus helped Scout to his feet slowly. Scout swayed, then straightened, and slightly winced in pain.
“They moved people through here,” Scout said immediately. “Women. Kids. Not all at once. They keep them confused.”
I felt the familiar cold settle in my chest.
“We know,” Cap said. “We got Amanda back.”
Scout’s head snapped up. “She’s okay?”
“She fought,” I said. “She survived.”
Something like relief crossed his face, quickly buried under anger.
“They’re not done,” Scout said. “This place was a stop. They were prepping another move.”
Scout’s fingers tightened briefly in my vest, like something had just snapped into focus.
“They don’t keep people long,” he went on. “That’s the point. Different locations. Different handlers. Keeps everyone disoriented. No one stays long enough to know the pattern.”
Cap’s expression sharpened. “You hear anything specific?”
Scout nodded once. “Routes. Times. They talk like it’s logistics. Not crime. Like they’re shipping parts, not people.”
That made my stomach turn.
“One of them mentioned a reroute,” Scout continued. “Said something about accelerating the next transfer because Iron Battalion was ‘getting curious.’”
I stilled.
“They know our name,” I said.
Scout met my eyes. “Yeah. And they weren’t scared.”
Silence dropped heavy around us.
“They were adjusting,” he finished. “Like we were a variable, not a threat.”
That was worse than fear.
Cap exhaled slowly. “That changes the board.”
Scout nodded. “Thought you’d want to know.”
“I do,” Cap said. “You did good.”
Scout didn’t smile this time. “I’m not done.”
“I know,” Cap said. “You can tell us everything later.”
Scout nodded, then stiffened. “They killed a guy.”
Brutus went still. “Who.”
Scout’s jaw flexed. “One of the guards. Got sloppy. Thought he could make an example. He’s dead.”
Cap held Scout’s gaze. “You didn’t freeze.”
“No,” Scout said. “I waited.”
That tracked.
Ghost’s voice cut in sharp. “We’ve got movement. Two vehicles approaching from the north.”
Cap didn’t hesitate. “Time’s up.”
We moved fast.
Scout leaned heavier into me as we headed for the exit, his steps uneven but determined. Outside, the night felt colder, sharper.
A shout rang out from the far side of the yard.
Then another.
Brutus turned and fired once. Clean. Controlled. The figure dropped.
No alarms. No chaos.
Just bodies and silence.
We loaded Scout into the van, Brutus and I bracketing him on either side. Ranger slid in last with Smoke, the dog immediately pressing his head into Scout’s lap.
Scout exhaled shakily. “Missed you, buddy.”
Smoke wagged his tail like he’d been waiting for that exact moment.
The engine turned over.
As we pulled away, Scout leaned back against the seat, eyes closing briefly.
Then they snapped open again.
“Wrecker,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“They talked about you,” he said quietly. “About the redhead. About Iron Battalion.”
My jaw tightened.
“They’re not scared,” Scout continued. “They’re curious.”
That was worse.
Cap turned slightly in his seat. “We’ll handle it.”
Scout’s laugh was bitter. “You better. Because they think they can take more.”
The compound gates came into view.
Home.
Scout sagged visibly as we rolled inside, relief finally cracking through the fury.
Doc was already waiting, medical kit in hand, expression tight.
Scout eyed him. “You look pissed.”
“I am,” Doc said flatly. “Sit down and shut up.”
Scout smiled faintly. “Missed you too.”
As Doc started assessing injuries, Scout looked back at me.
“They didn’t win,” he said.
I shook my head. “No. They didn’t.”
But the fight wasn’t over.
Not even close.
And we all knew it.