Chapter 38 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Eastern Europe — Industrial Supply Depot
The depot looks abandoned.
That’s the first lie.
The second is the silence.
I crouch behind a stack of rusted containers, night-vision washing the world in green. The air smells like oil and cold metal. No patrols. No cameras in obvious places.
Too clean.
Malenkov wants me to think this is bait.
Which means it’s a doorway.
“Positions,” I murmur.
Delta Five fans out without a word—Aaron high left, Miles on overwatch, Jase ghosting the perimeter. I move last, counting steps, feeling the ground beneath my boots.
There.
A vibration underfoot. Subtle. Mechanical.
Underground access.
I tap twice on my wrist.
Confirmed.
Jase’s voice ghosts through comms. “Hidden lift. Disguised as a drainage shaft.”
“Of course it is,” Aaron mutters.
I kneel, brushing aside debris, fingers finding the seam. The panel opens with a soft hiss, revealing a narrow metal platform descending into darkness.
This isn’t a holding site.
It’s a transfer node.
Malenkov moves his prisoners like inventory.
“Down,” I say.
The lift lowers us fast—too fast. Cold air rushes upward, carrying a scent I recognize instantly.
Blood.
Fear.
Human misery.
The doors slide open.
Concrete corridor. Harsh lights. One guard station ahead.
Two hostiles.
They don’t have time to react.
Aaron drops one silently. Jase disables the other before he can reach his radio.
I step past them, eyes scanning.
Cells.
Empty.
Empty.
Then—
Movement.
A man slumped against a far wall, shackled low, head bowed. His body is way too thin. Bruised. Bare feet on concrete.
Alive.
My chest tightens violently.
I move faster.
The man stirs as I approach, lifting his head slowly like it costs him everything.
“Easy,” I say quietly.
His eyes snap up.
And even through the swelling, the exhaustion, the blood—
I know him.
“Marcus,” I breathe.
His lips part. No sound comes out at first. Then—
“Sir?”
The word shatters something in my chest.
I crouch, cutting his restraints carefully, keeping him upright when his legs give.
“You’re safe,” I tell him firmly. “You’re coming home.”
His breath breaks. “You’re… alive.”
“Yes.”
A sound escapes him that isn’t quite a sob and isn’t quite a laugh.
Behind me, Miles swears softly. “We’ve got incoming heat. He knows.”
Of course he does.
The lights flicker.
Alarms don’t sound.
Malenkov doesn’t panic.
He responds.
“Extraction window is closing,” Aaron warns. “Two minutes.”
I sling Marcus over my shoulder without hesitation.
“You got one,” Jase says. “That’s a win.”
“No,” I answer grimly. “That’s a message.”
Gunfire erupts down the corridor.
We move.
Fast.
Hard.
No finesse now—just momentum and violence.
We reach the lift as bullets chew into the walls around us. I shove Marcus onto the platform, covering him with my body as Aaron hits the ascent.
The lift jerks upward.
Explosions rock the shaft beneath us.
Malenkov is collapsing the node.
Trying to bury us.
The platform slams to a stop above ground. We spill out into the night, sprinting for cover as the depot detonates behind us—fireball tearing skyward, shockwave slamming into my back.
We don’t stop running until the vehicles are moving and the facility is burning.
Marcus is shaking violently now, wrapped in a thermal blanket, oxygen mask on his face.
He grips my sleeve with surprising strength.
“They think you’re dead,” he rasps. “All of us thought—”
“I know,” I say quietly. “Not anymore.”
He swallows hard. “Cal… Jonah… the others—”
“I’m coming for them,” I promise.
His eyes close, tears slipping free.
“I knew,” he whispers faintly. “I knew you wouldn’t leave us.”
I look back once—at the fire, the smoke, the collapsing structure.
Malenkov wanted bait.
Instead, he lost a prisoner.
And now he knows the truth.
I’m alive.
I’m hunting.
And this was only the first door.