Chapter 27
Kara
The cargo hold stretched around me like a steel graveyard. Crates stacked four high, chained pallets swinging lazily with the ship’s early sway.
I crouched behind a wide container stamped with Cyrillic markings, listening for footsteps.
The guard I’d taken down was still unconscious.
I’d dragged him into the shadows, but his absence wouldn’t stay under the radar for much longer.
I had minutes, maybe less, before someone found the body and started asking questions.
The bolt I’d used was still slick in my hand, but I needed a better weapon.
Something that wouldn’t snap in two the next time I shoved it into someone’s femoral artery.
I was just about to search the guard for weapons when a voice echoed from deeper in the hold. A guard, an older man with a radio clipped to his vest, moved through the corridor of crates. He hadn’t seen me yet.
I pressed my back against the crate, my breathing shallow. The earpiece I’d yanked from the first guard crackled again in my ear.
“Unit six is down. Crate 417 breached. Possible extraction attempt. Lock it down.”
Shit.
I crept forward, bare feet silent against the chilled steel. The bolt was still in my grip, held low. I rounded a corner and spotted another guard.
He was younger than the first. Twitchy. Nervous. His eyes scanned the shadows as he moved toward the breached crate, rifle slung low and swinging.
I had to act immediately, so I surged forward, fast and low.
He turned, just in time to see the blur of me. He started to raise the rifle.
I jammed the bolt into his wrist.
He screamed, weapon clattering to the floor. I slammed my knee into his gut, grabbed his head, and smashed it against the edge of a crate. Once. Twice.
He dropped.
I didn’t wait. I crouched beside him and patted him down, fingers quick and practiced. He had a knife in a sheath on his thigh, military issue, curved and serrated on the back. I took it, clipped it to my waistband, and grabbed his radio.
“Unit seven down,” I whispered into the mic. “Crate breach confirmed. Subject in containment.”
There was a pause.
Then: “Understood. Sealing lower level. Deploying internal sweep.”
That would buy me maybe five minutes. Tops.
I moved.
The knife gave me confidence. I held it in a tight, reverse grip, as I crept through the maze of crates and shadows. The ship was humming now, louder than before. The floor vibrated for a moment under my feet. I realized with a start that we must be moving.
No. Not yet. I need off. I need off now.
I pushed deeper into the ship, past the crates, up a narrow stairwell that smelled of rust and damp. On the second level, I found a hallway of metal doors, all of them closed.
I tried one of the doors. Locked.
The second. Unlocked.
I slipped inside. The room was cramped but clean. A locker was open, a duffel bag half-zipped. Inside, I found a black hoodie, cargo pants, and a pair of boots. Everything too big, but thieves couldn’t be choosy.
I changed quickly, jamming the knife into the boot. My stolen comm unit buzzed again just as I was pulling up the hood.
“All units, be advised: possible decoy. Subject may be posing as crew. Use biometric scan protocols.”
I needed to move faster.
I ducked into the hallway. More footsteps, closer now. Coming from the direction of the bridge, probably.
I turned the opposite way and ran.
I moved through the crew deck like a shadow, navigating by memory more than sight. These ships had standard layouts. Bridge at the front, engine at the back, secondary exits through the cargo hatch or lifeboat access.
I needed to get to the lifeboats.
That was my only shot.
I reached another stairwell. Steel steps, narrow and exposed. I hesitated, then bolted up.
Halfway up the stairs, a voice shouted behind me.
“Hey! Stop!”
I turned, knife already in my hand.
The guard lunged. I caught his wrist mid-swing and slammed the pommel of my blade into his temple. He staggered. I drove my foot up between his legs, twisted his arm, and used his own momentum to send him crashing down the stairs. His body landed with a sickening crunch.
My chest was heaving now, blood thrumming in my ears, but I kept moving.
I hit the upper deck. The hallway opened onto an exterior catwalk.
Wind slammed into me, salt-stung and wild.
I must have been out for a long time, because it was completely dark outside now.
The glow of city lights were visible behind me, but it was clear that the ship was moving away and picking up speed.
“No, no, no,” I muttered, racing along the catwalk.
I found the lifeboat bay and then I found a steel panel locked with a keypad. I yanked at the handle, but it didn’t budge, so I jammed the knife into the seam and pried it open. The panel groaned but gave way eventually. I stabbed the release with the point of the blade.
The mechanical arm twitched.
Then locked again.
“Manual override required,” a voice said through the speaker.
“Override this,” I growled, and kicked the panel as hard as I could.
Suddenly, there were footsteps behind me.
I spun just in time to see two guards sprinting down the catwalk. One raised his rifle.
I dove behind the lifeboat housing as the first shot rang out.
Metal sparked. Another shot. Too close.
I popped up, knife in hand, and flung it like a dart. It caught the trigger-happy guard in the shoulder. He screamed and then staggered. The second fired again. I dropped like a lead weight. The bullet pinged off the wall behind me.
Then a new sound.
Distant.
Whining.
A drone.
The guards heard it too. One of them turned, but he was too late.
The drone swooped down the length of the catwalk, silent and fast. A dart hissed through the air and embedded in the standing guard’s neck. He went down hard and started twitching.
The other turned to run. I didn’t let him. I tackled him from behind, slamming his head into the metal railing until he stopped moving.
The drone hovered. Waiting.
Then its camera blinked red, once.
Almost like it was sending me a signal. And then it hit me.
They were coming. My Markovs were coming for me.
I stood, yanked my knife from the body of the first guard, and wiped the blood off on his sleeve. My hands still shook a little, but I didn’t have time for guilt.
Somewhere below deck, an alarm wailed, a long, mechanical scream that echoed through the hull and vibrated up through the soles of my boots. The ship was awake now, angry and groaning as it lurched forward into open water.
I turned my face toward the city, watching as it grew smaller and smaller. The wind tore through my hair, carrying the faint echo of a helicopter somewhere beyond the darkness.
For that insane moment, I thought it might be them. Roman. Dmitri. Lev.
Then the deck vibrated under my feet and the sound changed—heavier, faster, closer.
Searchlights cut through the night.
Fuck. Not them.
The Revenant insignia flashed across the hull of a smaller pursuit ship as it came into view. Two spotlights pinned the Orion Dawn like a hunted beast.
“Shit.”