Chapter 66 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Eastern Europe — Ascendancy Eastern Approach
The forest swallows the vehicle the moment we leave the service road.
Branches scrape metal. Mud grips the tires. The terrain slows us exactly the way Malenkov intended.
It doesn’t matter.
We weren’t meant to arrive fast.
We were meant to arrive unseen.
“Two minutes to dismount,” Aaron says quietly, eyes scanning the forward feed.
I nod once, gaze fixed on the layered schematic hovering in front of me. Jonah’s movement line is still climbing—erratic by design. Hunter clusters tighten and split, tightening again.
He’s herding them.
Good.
“Internal security just lost overlap,” Lena says. “Malenkov pulled a unit from the east corridor to reinforce uphill.”
I don’t look away from the map. “Of course he did.”
I found out everything I could about this man, and it has taught me one thing: Malenkov cannot resist force.
He always answers pressure with more pressure, never realizing that pressure reveals structure.
If I had known that my team and Lena were alive, I would have done anything to get them out sooner.
And Malenkov's structure reveals weakness.
“Mark the corridor,” I say.
Miles highlights the eastern access vein—narrow, angular, buried under layers of false redundancy.
A corridor Malenkov trusts because it looks brutal to breach.
“Jase,” I say. “You’re with me.”
“Always,” he answers.
The vehicle slows. Stops.
We don’t rush.
Doors open one by one, controlled, silent. Delta Five melts into the trees like we’ve always belonged here. No wasted movement. No wasted breath.
I take point.
Pain lives in the back of my mind where it belongs. Fear stays buried. Anger is cold and focused.
This isn’t about vengeance.
It’s about retrieval.
Lena’s voice lowers. “You’re green across all known sensors. Jonah just forced another hunter redeploy. Please stay safe.”
“I will, sweetheart,” I whisper.
“Time check,” I say.
“T-minus eight minutes until Malenkov realizes what he actually exposed.”
Plenty.
We move.
The eastern approach isn’t obvious unless you know what you’re looking for—rock that doesn’t quite match, vegetation that grows wrong. I stop and crouch, brushing fingers over stone.
Hollow.
“Miles,” I murmur. “Confirm.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “You’re on it.”
I set the charge myself.
Not because I have to—but because I want Malenkov to feel the precision of this moment. The difference between destruction and intent.
We clear back.
The blast is muted. Surgical.
Stone gives way.
Air rushes out—cold, recycled, carrying the faint metallic scent of captivity.
My chest tightens.
They’re close.
“Move,” I say.
We funnel in, weapons up, every step measured. The corridor beyond is narrow, angular—designed to slow attackers, to isolate them.
It won’t.
Not us.
Lena’s voice sharpens. “Internal alarms just triggered. He knows now.”
I don’t answer.
I don’t need to.
We advance deeper, following the faint but steady biosigns pulsing on my HUD.
Alive.
Still alive.
“Contact,” Aaron murmurs.
A guard steps into view at the far end of the corridor—confused, weapon half-raised.
I fire once.
Center mass.
He drops without a sound.
We keep moving.
Because stopping is how men die.
“Jonah’s pressure is holding,” Lena reports. “Hunters are fully committed uphill.”
Good.
I push forward, heart steady, mind razor-focused.
Three years ago, Malenkov thought he had taken everything from me.
My team.
My leverage.
My future.
What he actually gave me—
Was time.
Time to learn him.
Time to wait.
Time to strike exactly where it hurts.
The detention wing marker pulses ahead.
Close now.
Very close.
“Delta Five,” I say softly. “Prepare for contact.”
My grip tightens on my weapon.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
We’re coming for our brothers.
And Malenkov is about to learn—
You don’t keep Navy SEALs in chains.
You just delay the moment they come for each other.