Chapter 16
DYLAN
The Wyoming safe house sits higher than the hunting lodge, with better sightlines and three escape routes instead of one.
Six weeks since the attack, and we're still rotating between safe houses instead of going to Echo Base.
Kane wants us mobile, harder to track, spreading our presence across multiple locations until he's confident the Committee has lost our trail.
Smart. Predictable patterns get people killed.
Reagan works at the dining table, three laptops and a stack of documents spread in front of her like a command center.
She's been tracking the prosecutions since they started, coordinating with her journalist contacts, managing the story as it unfolds across every major outlet.
Delaney's been working with her remotely, handling the evidentiary chain of custody protocols and building the cases that prosecutors can actually use in court.
The indictments came first. Federal prosecutors moving against Committee members with speed that only happens when the evidence is airtight and the political will exists to follow through.
Morrison's historical war crimes, fully documented now in the federal record.
His legacy isn't heroic service anymore.
It's torture, chemical weapons, and dead civilians in a Syrian village.
Reagan's exposé did that. Her investigation, her sources, her refusal to back down even when it nearly got her killed.
Committee officers convicted, others cooperating with prosecutors, trading testimony for reduced sentences. Protocol Seven officially acknowledged as a war crime by international tribunals, condemned permanently.
"Another one just flipped." She doesn't look up from her screen, but I hear the satisfaction. "Committee logistics coordinator in Virginia. He's giving up supply chains, financial networks, operational protocols. Everything."
"That's good." I pour coffee, add the sugar she claims she doesn't want but always drinks anyway.
"Convictions are stacking up. Cooperating witnesses too.
The Committee's structure is fracturing.
Webb's cutting loose anyone who might flip, which creates more people with reasons to flip.
Vicious cycle." She sips the coffee, makes a face at the sweetness but doesn't complain.
"But Dylan, the leadership is still walking free.
Webb and the others at the top. We damaged the organization, exposed operations, put mid-level operatives in prison.
But the real leadership is insulated by layers of cutouts and deniability.
The prosecutors can't touch them directly. "
The frustration in her voice mirrors what I've been feeling for weeks. We won. Morrison's legacy is destroyed, the Committee is bleeding members, Protocol Seven is condemned internationally. But the leadership structure remains intact, consolidating power, still dangerous.
"Partial victory," I say.
"Better than total defeat." She sets down the coffee, stretches. The movement pulls her shirt tight across her shoulders, and I watch before forcing my attention back to tactical considerations. "Kane called. He wants everyone at Echo Base tonight."
"Everyone?"
"Full team. You, me, Khalid, the whole crew." Her expression shifts, uncertain in a way I rarely see from her. "He said it's time I saw the base facility. That I've earned it."
The invitation carries weight. Echo Base isn't just another safe house.
It's the operational heart, the place where Kane built something that survived every attempt to destroy it.
Bringing Reagan there means Kane trusts her completely, considers her part of the team in ways that go beyond tactical necessity.
It means she's family.
"When do we leave?" I ask.
"Sunset. Kane wants us traveling after dark, harder to track." Her hand finds mine, fingers interlacing with easy familiarity. "He and Willa are heading back early to prep the facility. You okay with this? Taking me to Echo Base?"
"Yeah." The answer is immediate, honest. "You've proven yourself. And Khalid's ready to show you around the place he calls home."
"He reminds you of Maya."
The observation lands. Maya had that same determination, that refusal to quit even when things seemed impossible. Khalid carries it too.
"He reminds me that some things matter," I say carefully. "That not everything the Committee touches gets destroyed."
Reagan's thumb traces patterns on the back of my hand. "You're a good man, Dylan Rourke. Even when you pretend you're not."
"I'm not pretending."
"Yes, you are." She rises on her toes, kisses me quickly. "But I see through it."
The drive to Echo Base takes hours on roads that barely qualify as roads.
Kane picks the routes, changing them every time, making sure no pattern emerges that surveillance could exploit.
We travel in two vehicles, Mercer and Stryker leading in the first, me driving the second with Reagan and Khalid.
Kane and Willa left hours ago to prepare the facility.
Khalid sits in the back, quiet but alert. He's been different since the hunting lodge, more withdrawn but also somehow steadier. Killing changes people. Watching someone kill to protect you changes you differently.
"Think Reagan will like Echo Base?" he asks as we turn onto a dirt track that winds through heavy forest.
"Yeah," I say, glancing over at her. "She'll appreciate the operational side. The security, the planning that went into it. She thinks like us now."
"Will she stay?" The question is careful, vulnerable in a way Khalid rarely lets show.
Reagan turns in her seat to look at Khalid. He isn't asking about himself anymore. He's worried about losing another person who matters.
"I'm right here, and I’m staying," Reagan says before I can answer. "This is where I belong now. With you and Dylan and the team."
Khalid doesn't respond, but his shoulders relax slightly. Another person who isn't leaving. Another piece of family that might actually last.
Echo Base reveals itself gradually. First the outer perimeter, motion sensors and cameras hidden in natural cover.
Then the checkpoint where Stryker stops to enter access codes.
Finally the entrance itself, a reinforced door built into rock face that looks like nothing from a distance.
Odin meets us at the door, tail wagging, pressing his nose against Khalid's hand before the kid even clears the threshold.
Inside, the mine transforms into something else entirely.
Kane spent years converting the old tunnels into a facility that rivals government installations.
Operations center with tactical displays and encrypted communications.
Armory stocked better than most military units.
Medical bay where Willa can handle everything short of major surgery.
Individual quarters, common areas, training spaces. This is home now.
The team gathers in the common area, and the atmosphere shifts from operational to something looser.
Odin has already claimed his spot at Khalid's feet, chin resting on the boy's shoe.
Willa's dog adopted Khalid months ago, and neither of them pretends otherwise.
Kane produces bourbon that probably costs more than it should.
Willa sets out food she's been preparing, the kind of spread that only happens when people have time to cook instead of just fuel up.
Even Tommy emerges from his tech cave, social for once.
"To partial victories," Kane raises his glass. "We didn't destroy the Committee. But we proved they can bleed."
"And everyone who works for them knows they might be next," I add. "That matters."
We drink. The bourbon burns good, smooth and expensive, the kind of thing Kane hoards for moments like this.
"Reagan." Kane turns to her, glass still raised. "You did something remarkable. You took on people who consider murder an operational expense, and you made them pay for it. Convictions. Cooperating witnesses. Morrison's legacy destroyed. That's not nothing."
"It's not the leadership in prison," she says.
"No. But it's everyone around them looking over their shoulders, wondering if they're next. That counts." He drinks again. "Welcome to Echo Base. You've more than earned your place here."
Reagan takes a breath, emotion crossing her face too fast to name. She's been fighting this battle for months, risking everything, but this is the first time someone's acknowledged she belongs. Not as an asset or a source, but as part of the team.
The celebration stretches into the evening. Stories get shared over bourbon—Mercer describing the Whitefish facility raid with dry precision, Stryker telling a story that makes even Kane laugh, Delany explaining how the Committee logistics coordinator's testimony will connect financial networks.
Reagan navigates the gathering like she's finding her place, asking the right questions, listening with genuine interest. Trading observations with Delaney about behavioral patterns.
Asking Tommy about his surveillance networks.
Watching Khalid demonstrate a defensive move he's been perfecting.
First time at Echo Base, but she's already becoming part of it.
Eventually the gathering winds down. Khalid heads to the gym with Mercer, eager to show off the techniques he's been practicing. Tommy returns to his systems. Stryker and Mercer head out for perimeter checks that probably aren't necessary but maintain the rhythm of security.
Kane catches my eye as Reagan and I head toward the private quarters. "Good to have you home," he says quietly. "All of you."
The quarters are small but private. Bed, desk, attached bathroom with a shower that has actual water pressure. Spartan compared to civilian standards, luxury compared to where we've been.