Chapter 26
Twenty-Six
Silas
“ N o . . . ” The word slips from my lips, barely a whisper.
Expecting to find Hallie but opening the door to an empty room was excruciating. Noting a pool of blood left in her wake was almost enough to break me.
But I refuse to give up.
I race over to the crimson puddle and drop to my knees. With a trembling hand, I reach out and pluck the small tracking chip from the center. It's slick with her blood.
A thousand horrific scenarios rip through my mind - Hallie hurt, bleeding out somewhere. Hallie in the clutches of my enemies, enduring unspeakable horrors. Because of me. Because of the monster I am.
I clench the tracker in my fist as white-hot fury and icy dread war within me. I'll tear this city apart to find her. And god help the bastards who took her when I do. They'll pray for a quick death before I'm through.
Cain approaches. “Si, we have a trail to follow?—”
The rest of his words are cut off by the pop-pop-pop of gunfire erupting behind us. We dive behind a stack of pallets as wood splinters explode around us.
I peek around the crates, spotting two mercenaries advancing, semi-automatics spitting lead. Rookie mistake, boys. Never charge an Ares agent unless you want to meet your maker.
In one fluid motion, I stand and raise my Sig, firing a double tap at the closer one's center mass. He crumples. His buddy hesitates, shocked. I put a bullet between his eyes before he can blink.
Two more turn from a hallway, but Cain is already on them, repeating my steps almost exactly.
I think of Hallie, wonder whether she got away and is alone out there somewhere, or if she was taken. The latter is more likely judging by the tracker ripped from her body. But how would anyone know it was there? I hadn’t even told Hallie about it. My mind is a storm of scenarios, each one worse than the last.
The distant echo of more gunshots snaps me back to the present, and I instinctively take cover behind a stack of crates. The warehouse has become a warzone, and I'm caught in the middle of it. But I can't let that stop me. Not when Hallie's life is on the line.
“I’m calling the team in. We need help, and we can’t afford to wait.” Cain shouts.
I catch a glimpse of movement between the gaps in the crates, shadows dancing in the dim light. More mercs. They must have followed us here. Big mistake.
I steady my breathing, letting years of training take over. My senses sharpen, adrenaline pumping through my system like liquid fire. I may be outnumbered, but they have no idea who they're dealing with.
I check my ammo, calculating my odds. It's time to even the playing field.
With a silent prayer for Hallie's safety, I prepare to engage. These bastards picked the wrong man to mess with. They took the only light in my dark world, and now they'll see what happens when you piss off an Ares agent.
Cain gives me a slight nod, his piercing blue eyes filled with a familiar determination. No words are needed. We've been through hell together, and this is just another day at the office.
I mirror his nod, a grim smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. The mercs don't stand a chance against us. Not when we're fighting for something—someone—worth dying for.
The sound of heavy boots against concrete draws closer, and I tighten my grip on my gun. The cold metal feels like an extension of my body, a lethal tool honed by years of practice.
I peek around the edge of the crate, my gaze zeroing in on the first merc. He's clad in black tactical gear, his face obscured by a helmet. But that won't save him from what's coming.
I take a deep breath, steadying my aim. The world narrows down to the space between heartbeats, and I let instinct take over.
Squeeze the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.
The merc drops like a marionette with its strings cut, his body hitting the ground with a dull thud. One down, countless more to go.
I duck back behind cover as a hail of bullets rips through the air, sending splinters of wood flying. The mercs are closing in, their shouts echoing off the warehouse walls.
But I'm not afraid. I've faced worse odds and come out on top. This is what I was born to do—to fight, to protect, to make the hard choices that others can't.
We take down all the targets and breathe again.
But then I see a flash of light in the corner.
“The fuck is that?”
Cain strides forward his phone in his hand, anger coating each step.
“It’s Blake. This is Blake’s fucking phone. Why would it be here?”
“In the room where Hallie . . . ”
I’m ready to explode with rage, but seeing Cain just as angry actually does something to calm me down. I might have been betrayed by one of my closest teammates, but I have others who would kill and die for me. Just as I would for them.
Gunshots rain out again and we take cover. Muzzle flashes illuminate the darkness, casting fleeting shadows on the walls as I unleash a barrage of bullets, each shot finding its mark with deadly precision. The fallen mercenaries litter the ground like discarded puppets in a macabre play, their presence a grim testament to the brutality of our job.
As the mercenaries draw closer, their footsteps reverberating off the warehouse walls like ominous drumbeats, a flicker of dread grips my heart. But salvation arrives in the form of Jet and Alan.
Relief washes over me as they join our ranks, their presence bolstering our dwindling strength against overwhelming odds. “Thanks for joining the party!” I shout above the cacophony of gunfire, a mix of jest and genuine relief coloring my words.
Jet's grin is infectious as he positions himself beside me, his weapon becoming an extension of his lethal intent. “Miss out on all this action? Not a chance,” he retorts with unwavering determination.
Alan stands resolute at Cain's flank, his unwavering focus mirroring our shared concern for Hallie's safety. Together, we stand united against the encroaching storm of adversaries, an unbreakable phalanx forged in blood and battle.
Despite our gains on the battlefield, an insidious sense of urgency gnaws at my resolve. Hallie's fate hangs in the balance somewhere beyond these walls. Every passing moment here risks losing her.
“Jet! Alan! Cover us!” I command with steely authority as we stride towards the doorway. “We're going after Hallie!”
“Roger that, boss.”
“And if you see that cocksucker Blake, shoot him on sight.”
They’re taken aback, but Cain nods, and I watch as understanding dawns.
“We’ve got you, brother.”
“All day.”
The echo of gunfire fades into the distance as Jet and Alan's covering fire drives the remaining mercenaries into retreat. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline coursing through my veins as Cain and I race through the warehouse, following the trail of blood that leads us to Hallie.
“She can't have gone far, at least not without leaving a trail,” Cain says, his voice tight with worry. “Not with that wound.”
I nod, scanning the ground for any sign of her passing. The blood trail is sporadic, a testament to her strength and determination, but it's enough to guide us forward.
We burst out of the warehouse and into the night, the cool air a stark contrast to the heat of battle. The blood trail continues, leading us towards the woods that border the property.
Cain pauses for a moment, his eyes scanning the treeline. “We have to be careful,” he warns. “They could be waiting for us.”
“I don't care,” I growl, my grip tightening on my gun. “I'm not leaving her out there.”
Together, we plunge into the darkness, our senses on high alert. The woods are thick and dense, the undergrowth tugging at our clothes as we push forward.
I feel Hallie's presence beside me, fragile yet resilient in the face of danger. The blood trail we follow through the dense woods fades, teasing us with uncertainty.
The dark, looming pines cast long shadows across the forest floor, their branches clawing at the sky. The only sounds are the gentle sigh of the wind through the needled boughs overhead and the crunch of pine needles beneath our boots.
Somewhere in the darkness, Hallie is out there, hurt and bleeding. Each second that ticks by feels like an eternity, every fiber of my being screaming to find her.
But then we hear it. A branch snapping. A deep roar.
A blood-curdling scream.