Chapter 12 #2
"Remy Pascal," he calls out. Russian accent. "Mr. Lazarev wants to talk."
"Not interested."
"He knows you're planning to hit the facility tomorrow. He has a better offer."
"Still not interested."
"The woman. Dr. Durand." The Russian's voice carries casual menace. "He's willing to pay very well for the scientist who created the delivery system. Dead or alive. Preferably alive."
Ice floods my veins.
Behind the counter, Isabella's breathing is controlled. Scared but not panicking.
"You have three seconds to leave," I say. "Or I kill you and everyone else Lazarev sends."
"Big words from a man pinned behind—"
I don't let him finish. Pop up, put three rounds through the doorframe at chest height. The Russian grunts, stumbles back into the hallway.
I'm moving before he hits the floor. Grab Isabella's arm. "Back exit. Now."
We're through the bedroom window onto the fire escape in seconds. I go first, weapon sweeping for additional hostiles. Clear.
Isabella follows. We hit the alley running.
Behind us, more men pour into the safe house. Shouting. Coordinating.
I lead Isabella through backstreets and alleys, moving fast, changing direction, using every evasion technique I know. She keeps pace without complaint.
We make it six blocks before I spot the tail.
Black SUV crosses the intersection two blocks ahead. Another flashes past behind us thirty seconds later. Coordinated movement, boxing pattern. They're running parallel streets.
"They're boxing us in," Isabella gasps.
"I know." I scan for options. "Trust me?"
"Always."
I pull her into a recessed doorway. She's breathing hard. I cup her face, make her meet my eyes.
"Whatever happens next, you follow my lead. No questions. No hesitation. Understood?"
"Understood."
I kiss her hard. Claiming. Possessive. Mine.
Then my phone rings.
Luc.
"We're blown," I say immediately. "Safe house hit. Multiple hostiles. They're hunting us now."
"I know. I'm tracking you." His voice is cold. Focused. "Extraction team is two minutes out. Can you hold?"
"Yes."
"Southeast corner, Vriezenveenseweg and Kortlandstraat. Abandoned loading dock. Go."
I don't question. Just move. Isabella beside me, running flat out.
The SUVs converge. Cutting off routes. Herding us.
We round the corner onto Kortlandstraat. The loading dock appears ahead.
So do four men with automatic weapons.
We're caught between pursuing vehicles and armed hostiles ahead.
This is how ops fail. This is how people die.
Then Luc's extraction team arrives.
Two vehicles screaming in from side streets. Doors flying open. Former Dutch special forces moving with lethal precision.
Gunfire erupts.
Luc's team engaging Lazarev's men. Suppressing fire creating corridor.
"Move!" someone shouts.
I grab Isabella, run through the firefight. Rounds cracking past. She doesn't slow, doesn't flinch.
We hit the extraction vehicle. Doors slam. Tires scream.
And we're gone.
The driver takes us through Rotterdam at speeds that would terrify anyone who wasn't running for their lives. Behind us, pursuit vehicles try to follow. Luc's second team cuts them off with tactical precision.
We make it to a secondary safe house—industrial building in the port district that Luc held in reserve.
Inside, Luc's waiting.
"Talk," he says.
I give him everything. The facility recon. Getting made. Six guards plus Lazarev. The hit team at the apartment. The running gun battle.
When I finish, he's quiet for a long moment.
"The leak is worse than we thought," he says finally. "They knew which safe house. Knew you'd be there tonight. Knew Isabella was with you."
"Which means someone in our chain is feeding them real-time intelligence."
"Or they've compromised our communications." Luc pulls out his tablet. "Either way, this op runs dark from here."
"Can we still hit the facility?" Isabella asks.
Both Luc and I look at her.
"After what just happened," she continues, "they'll expect us to abort. They'll think they scared us off. Which means security might relax slightly. Not much. But enough."
I process that. She's right. Lazarev showed his hand tonight. He's hunting us, which means he thinks we're running.
"We hit them at midnight," I say. "Full tactical assault. No stealth. Luc's team provides suppressing fire. We breach, neutralize guards, Isabella identifies compounds, I set charges, we extract before emergency response arrives."
"That's not an op," Luc says. "That's a war."
"Yes."
He looks at Isabella. "You understand what you're walking into?"
"I understand." Her voice is steady. Hard. "And I understand what happens if we don't destroy those compounds. So we go in, we finish this, and we make sure my research never kills anyone."
Luc studies her for a long moment. Then nods. "Tomorrow night. Midnight. We end this."
The secondary safe house has two bedrooms. Isabella takes one. I take the other.
But an hour later, her door opens. She crosses to my room, slips into bed beside me.
"I can't sleep," she whispers.
I pull her against me. She's shaking slightly. Adrenaline crash from the firefight.
"You did good tonight," I say. "Stayed calm under fire. Kept moving. Followed orders."
"People died."
"Yes."
"More will die tomorrow."
"Yes." I don't soften it. "Guards. Lazarev if he's there. Maybe us if we're not good enough."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "I'm scared."
"Good. Fear keeps you sharp." I turn her to face me. "But I need you to channel that fear into focus tomorrow. When we breach that facility, there's no room for hesitation. You identify compounds fast. I destroy them. We extract. That's the whole op."
"What if I freeze?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
"Because you didn't freeze tonight when armed men came through that door. You moved. You ran. You fought." I cup her face. "You're stronger than you think, chère. And tomorrow, you're going to prove it."
She kisses me then. Desperate. Hungry. Needing the connection before we walk into fire.
I give her what she needs. Take what I want. Claim her completely.
Because tomorrow, we might die.
But tonight, she's mine.
I hold her close, listening to her breathing. Lying awake, I run through scenarios.
Six guards. Lazarev. Potential Iron Choir reinforcements. Compounds that could kill us if the demolition goes wrong.
High probability of casualties. Higher probability of mission failure.
But we're out of options.
Tomorrow at midnight, we breach that facility. We destroy those compounds. And we end this before Isabella's research becomes a weapon.
Or we die trying.
Either way, it ends in Rotterdam.