55. Jonah
Jonah
W e breach through the next access door hard and fast.
The room beyond opens wide instantly.
Generator room.
Has to be.
Old industrial turbines line the walls like rusted skeletons, but somebody rebuilt the center system completely.
Modern power core.
Massive output.
Enough energy humming through the room to vibrate in my chest.
And guards.
Five of them.
Weapons already coming up.
No hesitation.
Good.
Neither do we.
The room explodes into gunfire.
Cal drops the far-left hostile before the guy clears his rifle.
Lance pushes right aggressively, firing while moving.
Ronan barrels straight through centerline like controlled violence wrapped in tactical gear.
I pivot toward the upper platform—
And pain detonates through my side so hard my vision flashes white.
Too fast.
I twisted too hard.
My second shot misses completely.
“Jonah!”
Sienna’s voice cracks through the room.
I force the pain down hard enough to breathe again and fire once more.
The operative on the catwalk jerks backward and crashes over the railing.
Target down.
But it cost me.
My breath’s gone.
Blood feels hot beneath the bandage again.
Damn it.
“Stay up,” I mutter under my breath.
Because collapsing here means everybody dies.
And Sienna still hasn’t found her sister.