35. Wade
WADE
The mountain was awake.
Wade could feel it.
Five years inside Black Site Theta had taught him things no prisoner should ever need to know.
The facility had rhythms.
Moods.
Warnings.
Tonight, the mountain felt afraid.
Boots pounded through the corridors.
Steel doors slammed.
Radios crackled without pause.
The guards no longer bothered hiding their nervousness.
Wade sat on the edge of his bunk, listening.
Counting.
Waiting.
A flashlight beam swept past the narrow window in his door.
Then another.
Then another.
Too many guards.
Far too many.
The evacuation had accelerated.
Something was happening outside the mountain.
Something big.
Three knocks sounded through the wall.
Wade answered immediately.
Three knocks back.
A signal.
A language.
A reminder.
Still here.
Still alive.
The response came from the next cell.
Then another farther down.
Then another.
Grant Barrett.
Jackson Cole.
Luke Dawson.
Eric Hale.
His men.
Scattered.
Separated.
Buried beneath a mountain.
But still fighting.
Still surviving.
Still refusing to break.
Five years.
Not one of them had given Project Nightfall what it wanted.
Not one had betrayed the team.
Pride warmed Wade’s chest.
Briefly.
Pride wouldn’t save them.
But it reminded him what kind of men would be standing beside him when the doors opened.
A steel door slammed somewhere down the corridor.
Raised voices followed.
Wade stood and moved closer to the observation slot.
“Director Madow wants them ready.”
Another voice answered.
“We still have six hours.”
A pause.
“Not anymore.”
Silence followed.
Heavy silence.
The kind that made Wade’s instincts scream.
The timeline had changed.
That was never good.
He slid his hand beneath the mattress and wrapped his fingers around the metal bolt he had hidden there.
It wasn’t much.
But it had a sharp edge.
And at close range, anything could become a weapon.
The bolt felt cold in his palm.
Wade closed his eyes and pictured the corridor.
Distance from his cell to the first security door.
Number of guards stationed at the intersection.
Location of the freight elevator.
The young guard who carried his sidearm too far forward on his hip.
The older guard whose right knee had never healed properly.
He had spent five years memorizing Black Site Theta.
Tonight, he would finally use what he had learned.
The helicopter flew low through the mountains.
Its engines strained as the pilot followed the dark valleys, using towering ridgelines to hide their approach.
Snow streaked past the open side door.
Inside, red cabin lights washed over weapons, body armor, and faces hardened by purpose.
Sarah sat strapped into her seat.
A photograph rested in her gloved hands.
Wade.
Twenty-nine years old.
Grinning at something outside the frame.
Alive.
Happy.
Free.
The photograph was worn at the edges from years of handling.
Years of hope.
Years of refusing to let him go.
She traced one finger over her brother’s face.
For five years, she had carried the picture everywhere.
Across borders.
Through safe houses.
Into rooms where powerful men lied to her.
It was proof that Wade had existed beyond a casualty report.
Proof that he had laughed.
Loved.
Lived.
She slipped the photograph into the pocket beneath her tactical vest.
Close to her heart.
Across from her, Sniper noticed.
He didn’t say anything at first.
Then his voice came through her headset.
“He’s stubborn, isn’t he?”
Sarah looked up. “What?”
“Wade.”
A faint smile touched her lips.
The first one I had seen in hours.
“Most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
Sniper grinned.
“Good.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Why is that good?”
“Because Rook is the second most stubborn.”
A few chuckles moved through the helicopter.
I shook my head.
“Don’t encourage her.”
“I don’t need encouragement,” Sarah said.
“That’s the problem.”
Her smile lasted only a moment.
Then Fathom’s screen updated.
The cabin fell silent again.
He studied the thermal images streaming through our satellite link.
“More vehicles are moving toward the eastern tunnel.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Six escort trucks. Three armored transports.” His expression tightened. “And the heat signatures inside the prison wing are gathering in the corridor.”
“They’re loading the prisoners,” Sarah said.
“Yes.”
Her smile disappeared.
“How long?”
Fathom checked the movement patterns.
“Less than an hour.”
Sarah looked toward the darkness beyond the helicopter.
Somewhere behind those mountains, Wade was being taken from his cell.
She closed her eyes.
Hold on.
Please, Wade.
Just hold on.
I watched her for another second before turning toward the team.
“We split at the landing zone. Falcon and Sarah stay with me. We take the eastern transport exit and stop the convoy.”
Sarah nodded.
“Sniper, Shark, and Reef enter through the maintenance tunnel Fathom identified. Get to the prison wing.”
Sniper checked his rifle.
“And Cobra?”
Everyone looked toward him.
Cobra smiled.
“I’m going to introduce myself to their communications system.”
Shark groaned. “Of course you are.”
Cobra’s smile widened.
“It would be rude not to.”
Fathom turned his screen toward us.
“I’ll coordinate the teams from the ridgeline and keep the access routes open. Once Madow realizes we’re inside the perimeter, he’ll lock down the mountain.”
“Then don’t let him,” I said.
“I’ll do my best.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Fathom met my eyes.
“He won’t lock us out.”
The pilot’s voice came through the headset.
“Landing zone in two minutes.”
Mission faces returned.
Weapons were checked.
Night-vision equipment lowered.
The closer we moved to the mountain, the quieter everyone became.
I looked at Sarah.
“Stay with me.”
“I heard you the first three times.”
“I’m going to keep saying it until we’re back on this helicopter.”
A flicker of emotion moved through her eyes.
Fear.
Not for herself.
For Wade.
“I can’t lose him again.”
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No.”
I held her gaze.
“But I can promise you won’t face whatever is waiting in there alone.”
For one second, the hunter disappeared.
The sister beneath her armor looked back at me.
Then Sarah nodded.
The helicopter descended into the storm.
Inside Black Site Theta, the freight elevator opened.
Wade stood at his cell door, watching through the narrow window.
Guards weren’t only moving prisoners.
They were removing evidence.
Hard drives.
Weapons cases.
Boxes of documents.
Entire filing cabinets.
Anything that couldn’t be carried away went into the incinerator.
Smoke tainted the air.
Black Site Theta was being erased.
This wasn’t a relocation.
It was an evacuation.
One of the guards stopped outside Wade’s cell.
Young.
Nervous.
Sweating.
Wade had seen him before. The man couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
He looked down the corridor before stepping closer.
His voice barely carried through the door.
“You should pray.”
Wade stared at him.
The guard swallowed.
Fear filled his eyes.
Real fear.
“They’re digging graves in the eastern ravine.”
The guard hurried away before Wade could respond.
For one second, the world stopped.
Then Wade looked toward the wall separating him from his men.
The transfer.
The evacuation.
The panic.
The graves.
It all made sense.
Alan Madow wasn’t moving prisoners.
He was burying witnesses.
Wade stepped to the wall and knocked three times.
The response came immediately.
Then another.
Another.
Another.
His team.
Still there.
Still alive.
For now.
Wade rested his forehead against the cold concrete.
“Get ready.”
Grant’s voice traveled through the vent.
“For what?”
Wade opened his eyes.
The old fire burned inside him again.
The same fire that had carried him through war.
Through captivity.
Through five years of darkness.
“For the fight.”
A distant vibration moved through the floor.
Faint.
Almost impossible to detect.
Wade felt it through the soles of his bare feet.
Not machinery.
Rotors.
His heart began to pound.
Somewhere beyond the mountain, aircraft were approaching.
He tightened his hand around the metal bolt.
They were coming.
Wade only had to stay alive long enough to meet them.
The helicopters touched down in a narrow valley two miles beyond Black Site Theta’s outer perimeter.
Shadow Division moved before the wheels settled.
Weapons.
Gear.
Helmets.
Purpose.
Snow whipped across the ground, swallowing the team as the helicopters lifted away.
Sarah turned toward the mountain looming above them.
Somewhere inside it, Wade was waiting.
She felt it.
The same stubborn certainty that had kept her searching when everyone else gave up.
Her brother was alive.
And this time, she was coming for him.
I stepped beside her and studied the ridgeline.
Then I gave the order.
One word.
Cold.
Simple.
Final.
“Move.”
Shadow Division disappeared into the storm.
And deep beneath the mountain, the prisoners prepared for war.