Chapter 12 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Level Three, Ascendancy Facility
The second I see her, the world narrows to a single point.
Lena.
She’s alive.
Bruised. Pale. Barefoot.
Cuffed.
Shaking.
But alive.
Two bodies lie at her feet — guards I dropped without hesitation. Smoke curls from the muzzle of my rifle. My breath is a ragged rush in my ears.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and glassy, and something inside my chest fractures so violently it steals my air.
“Ronan…”
Hearing my name on her lips almost brings me to my knees.
I move before I can think.
Fast. Controlled. Methodical.
Except for the shaking in my hands when I reach her.
I holster my sidearm, grab the cuffs, and snap them apart with a breaching tool. The metal clatters to the floor. Her wrists are raw and red. Rage punches through me so hard I have to bite down before I break something — or someone.
“I’ve got you, Hart,” I whisper, my voice rough. “You’re safe now.”
Her breathing stutters, like those words hurt more than the cuffs.
She sways — and I catch her, one arm around her waist, steadying her. She flinches from the touch at first, instinct, trauma… but then she leans into me, just barely.
That tiny shift detonates something in my chest.
“Ronan… I didn’t know if—”
Her voice cracks.
I press my forehead to hers for half a heartbeat. “I’m here. Nothing was going to stop me. Once I heard you were alive.”
A tremor goes through her. She clutches the front of my jacket with weak fingers, grounding herself. Or grounding me. I’m not sure which one of us is shaking harder.
Cyclone’s voice blasts through the comm, jarring and too loud in the moment.
“Pierce, you located her?”
I force myself to breathe. “I have eyes on Lena. She’s alive.”
Relief explodes across the channel — Beckett swearing under his breath, Raven muttering a prayer, River letting out a long exhale he probably didn’t know he was holding.
My team, The Delta Five, all whisper her name.
“Move to extraction,” River orders. “We’ll converge on your location.”
Extraction.
Right.
If only it were that simple.
A sharp hiss sounds behind us as the Chamber Nine door finishes unlocking.
Lena stiffens in my arms.
“No,” she breathes. “Ronan, don’t let them take me in there.”
“I’m not letting them take you anywhere,” I growl.
A metallic screech echoes from inside the chamber — something mechanical, heavy, waking up.
My hand goes instinctively to my rifle.
“Lena, what’s in there?”
She shakes her head hard, backing closer to me. “Experiments. Punishment. No one who goes in comes out.”
Cold slices down my spine.
Ascendancy doesn’t do ordinary torture.
They break minds.
Bodies.
Souls.
Not her.
Not ever.
I pull her behind me as the door yawns wider, revealing—
—darkness.
And a long, sterile corridor lined with locked steel cages.
A figure steps into view at the far end.
Tall.
Thin.
Shoulders straight.
A silhouette I know.
Roscov.
The bastard smiles when he sees me.
“Ronan Pierce,” he calls, voice dripping venomous delight. “You’re early. We weren’t expecting you until after the final transfer.”
Lena flinches at the sound of his voice.
Something black and lethal surges up my throat.
“Step away from the door,” I warn, my finger tightening on the trigger. “Now.”
He laughs softly. “Or what? You’ll shoot me? You’ll risk hitting her?”
Lena grips my arm. “Ronan, don’t—he’s trying to stall.”
She’s right.
Because behind us, alarms begin to wail again.
A different alarm.
A containment breach alarm.
Cyclone shouts in my ear, “Pierce, the facility’s sealing Level Three — blast doors are closing in ninety seconds. You need to move!”
I pull Lena flush against my side, already pivoting.
“We’re leaving,” I tell her.
“But Roscov—”
“I’ll come back for him. I’m not losing you.”
Her eyes shine with a pain I recognize too well — the emotional kind, not the physical.
But we don’t get to process it.
Because the corridor behind us explodes in gunfire.
Three Ascendancy soldiers rush the hallway, rifles raised.
I shove Lena behind a support beam and open fire. One drops instantly. The second takes cover. The third gets close enough that I feel the air shift as he swings his weapon toward her.
Not a chance.
I break into a sprint, slam into him, and drive my knife into his throat. Hot blood sprays my arm, but I don’t stop.
I never stop.
Not until every threat between her and daylight is gone.
River’s voice roars through comms.
“Ronan, the blast doors are closing in sixty seconds! MOVE!”
I grab Lena’s hand — cold, trembling, but strong — and pull her into a run.
She stumbles once. I catch her.
She gasps in pain. I adjust my grip.
She doesn’t let go.
Neither do I.
Gunfire erupts behind us as Roscov’s men pour out of Chamber Nine. I fire back blindly, keeping their heads down as we sprint toward the extraction stairwell.
“Ronan,” Lena pants, “don’t let go.”
“Never,” I rasp. “Not again.”
The blast door warning sirens crescendo.
Forty seconds.
Thirty.
Twenty.
The stairwell looms ahead.
Hope slams into me — sharp, bright, dangerous.
I tighten my grip on her hand and pull her faster.
We are going to make it.
We are—
A burst of automatic fire rips across the hall, forcing us to dive behind the wall.
Lena cries out as her knee slams the floor.
I shield her with my body as bullets tear holes in the concrete inches from us.
The gunfire stops.
A single set of footsteps echoes toward us.
Measured. Calm.
Smiling.
Roscov.
His voice drips down the hall.
“You really thought she would be that easy to take?”
Lena buries her face against my shoulder, trembling.
My hand wraps around my rifle. My jaw locks hard enough to crack.
I breathe once.
Slow.
Purposeful.
Deadly.
Then I rise to face him.
Because he has no idea—
He already lost.