Chapter 11 Lena
Lena
Location: Level Three Descent Chamber
Ascendancy Facility
Cold air burns down my throat as they shove me forward.
I don’t know how long it’s been since they pulled me off the aircraft. Minutes? Hours? Months? Time blurs in a place like this — stripped away, piece by piece, until all that’s left is instinct.
And instinct is screaming.
Don’t fall. Don’t show weakness. Don’t let them think they’ve broken me.
My bare feet slap against the metal ramp as the guards drag me toward another elevator carved into the mountain’s core. My legs tremble, but I force them to move. The last time I slowed, I paid with a blow to the ribs so hard I couldn’t breathe for a minute.
The elevator doors groan open.
One guard grips my arm so tightly my skin burns. Another pushes me between the shoulder blades. I stumble inside, my wrists still cuffed in front of me. The metal bites deep — a reminder of how long I’ve been held here.
How long have I survived? What year is it?
The doors begin to close.
Then a distant explosion shakes the walls.
The guards stiffen—one curses in Russian.
My heart slams.
Another explosion — closer this time. Then shouting. Footsteps. The echo of boots running in formation.
Something is happening.
Something big.
The guard to my left grabs his radio. “Control, what was that? Is the breach drill active?”
Static. Then a voice, tense and clipped:
“Negative. We have an incursion. Repeat — we are under attack.”
Under attack.
The elevator shudders as the lights flicker. The guard jerks me close, fury and fear twisting his face.
“What did you do?” he snarls.
“I’ve been locked up in a cell,” I rasp. “What do you think I did?”
He raises a gloved hand like he might strike me — but he hesitates. Orders blast through the radio again.
“Lock down Level Three! Subject Hart is priority. Move her to Chamber Nine — now!”
My stomach drops.
Chamber Nine.
I’ve heard that name whispered by the guards when they thought I was unconscious.
No one comes back from Chamber Nine.
The elevator halts abruptly between floors, throwing us off balance. The guard curses, slams a fist against the panel.
Above us, deep within the mountain, I hear something I haven’t heard in a long, long time.
Gunfire.
Precise. Controlled. Deadly.
My breath stops in my chest.
Ronan.
It has to be.
No one else moves like that. Shoots like that.
No one else would tear down a mountain to find me.
One guard yanks me out as the doors force-open manually. They drag me down a narrow corridor lit by pulsing red emergency lights.
Another explosion — this one so close the ceiling dust rains down over my hair and shoulders.
The guard behind me shouts, “Move her faster!”
I stumble but don’t fall. I won’t fall. If Ronan is here — if he’s really here — then every step I take is one closer to him.
A distant voice echoes down the hallway. Male. Furious. Familiar.
“Clear! Move to the next door!”
My knees nearly buckle.
I know that voice.
I know it in my bones.
Ronan.
“Pierce is on Level Two,” a guard shouts. “He’s heading this way!”
The guard gripping my arm stiffens. “Then we move to Nine now!”
He shoves me forward — right as another explosion tears through the level beneath us. The floor shakes violently. The guards lose their grip for a split second.
Just a second.
But that’s all I need.
I twist, slam my shoulder into the nearest guard, and run.
Pain screams through my ribs. My cuffed wrists slow me. But adrenaline hammers through me, fierce and wild.
Behind me, someone shouts. Boots thunder.
I round a corner — and skid to a stop.
Two soldiers block the hallway with rifles raised.
One grabs me by the collar, jerking me back so hard a gasp rips from my throat. The other presses cold steel to my temple.
“Enough,” he growls. “Any further and we’ll kill you before Pierce gets close.”
My heartbeat is everywhere — in my throat, my ears, my shaking hands.
But beneath the terror… something else rises.
Hope.
Because over the ringing alarms, over the pounding boots, over my own breathing…
I hear him.
Closer now.
Commanding.
Unstoppable.
“Level Three! Move!”
The guards tense.
One whispers, “He shouldn’t be able to break through that fast.”
You don’t know him, I want to say.
You have no idea.
The guard drags me backward, toward a door marked CHAMBER NINE — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
My pulse spikes.
No. No, please—
He slams his palm onto the keypad.
The door begins to open.
A crack of gunfire erupts behind us.
The guard jerks — and drops.
The second guard swings toward the sound.
Too late.
Metal hits the floor. A body falls.
And through the settling gun smoke, through the strobing emergency lights, through the cold mountain air…
Ronan steps into the corridor.
His chest rising hard.
Eyes burning like wildfire.
Rifle raised.
Focused entirely—entirely—on me.
My lips part on a shaking breath.
“Ronan…”
His jaw flexes. His gaze sweeps me — the cuffs, the bruises, the blood dried beneath my nails.
Then his voice breaks, rough and raw:
“I’ve got you, Hart.”
For the first time since the day I was taken…
I believe it.