Chapter 65 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Eastern Europe — Forward Operations Vehicle
The map changes.
Not dramatically.
Not all at once.
Just enough.
A flare of red where green should be. Two rapid thermal collapses. One tight cluster of movement suddenly breaking pattern.
I don’t need confirmation.
Jonah has engaged.
Miles stiffens beside me. “We just lost two hunter signatures.”
“Not lost,” I say. “Neutralized.”
Lena’s breath is calm in my ear, but I hear the edge under it. “He’s forcing a compression. They’re converging uphill.”
Exactly where he wants them.
I lean forward, fingers steepled, eyes tracking the live terrain feed as it redraws itself around Jonah’s movement. The hunters are fast. Coordinated. They think they’re closing a net.
They’re wrong.
“Mark the choke,” I say.
Miles highlights the ravine cut without hesitation. “Done.”
Aaron glances back at me. “He’s pulling them away from the detention wing.”
“Yes,” I answer. “And tightening Malenkov’s blind spots.”
The feed flickers again—radio chatter bleeding through, clipped, frustrated.
I hear it before Miles translates.
“He’s disrupting their comms,” Miles says. “Using their own frequency.”
A corner of my mouth lifts.
“That’s my SEAL brother for you.”
“Delta Five,” I say into the open channel. “Jonah’s executing Phase Four.”
No questions.
Jase is already adjusting satellite angles. Aaron reroutes drone coverage. Miles overlays strike vectors without being told.
This is what four years of planning looks like.
Lena’s voice sharpens. “Malenkov just re-tasked internal security. He’s thinning his perimeter.
I close my eyes for half a second.
There it is.
The mistake.
“He thinks Jonah is the threat,” I say. “He’s wrong.”
Aaron nods slowly. “You want the extraction team moving?”
“Yes,” I say. “But quiet.”
I bring up the detention wing feed—the biosigns of the remaining prisoners pulsing weak but steady.
Still alive.
Still holding.
My chest tightens.
“Delta Five,” I continue, voice dropping into something colder. “We’re done reacting.”
I tap the screen, drawing a box around the Ascendancy’s eastern access corridor—the one Malenkov believes is locked down.
“Jonah has given us the opening,” I say. “We take it.”
Miles looks up. “You’re committing everything.”
“No,” I correct. “I’m committing precision.”
I switch channels.
“Jonah,” I say calmly. “You’re doing exactly what I need you to do. Keep pulling them uphill. You’re buying us twelve minutes.”
A pause.
Then his voice—rough, controlled, alive.
“Roger that,” Jonah replies. “Twelve feels generous.”
I almost smile.
“Survive,” I tell him. “That’s an order.”
The line clicks dead.
Lena exhales. “Malenkov just authorized an expanded force.”
“Good,” I say. “That means he’s afraid.”
I straighten, every decision locked in place.
“Delta Five,” I say. “We move now.”
The vehicle surges forward.
Outside, the forest waits—silent, indifferent, about to become lethal.
Somewhere ahead, Jonah is bleeding for time.
Somewhere below, two of my brothers are still in chains.
And Malenkov?
He thinks this is still his game.
I set my jaw, eyes burning with purpose.
It isn’t.
It’s ours.