Chapter 67 Ronan
Ronan
Location: Ascendancy Detention Wing — Eastern Corridor
The corridor narrows.
The air changes—cooler, heavier, threaded with the antiseptic sting of disinfectant and the deeper, unmistakable scent of blood.
I slow without signaling.
Delta Five mirrors me automatically.
No one rushes this.
Because this is where Malenkov keeps what matters.
The walls here are reinforced differently—thicker plating, tighter seams, fewer access panels. Not meant for efficiency, meant for permanence.
Meant to convince men they’re never leaving.
My HUD pulses again.
Two biosigns.
Weak.
Stable.
Alive.
“Confirm detention wing,” I murmur.
Miles doesn’t need to check. “That’s it.”
A security camera pivots overhead, lens tracking us.
I raise my weapon and fire once.
The lens shatters.
We move again.
Boots silent on concrete. Weapons steady. Every breath measured.
This isn’t adrenaline.
This is inevitability.
A final turn reveals the door.
Heavy steel. Reinforced hinges. The control panel is recessed deep into the wall. Faint smear of blood near the bottom edge where someone was dragged past it recently.
My chest tightens hard enough to hurt.
Four years, I thought my men were dead.
Four years of listening to silence where my brothers should’ve been.
Lena’s voice cuts in low. “Ronan—Malenkov’s internal feeds just went dark in this sector.”
“Of course they did,” I reply.
Last gambit.
I step closer to the door and place my palm flat against the cold steel.
I can feel it now.
Not movement.
Not sound.
Presence.
“They’re here,” I say quietly.
Behind me, Delta Five fans out—covering angles, sealing exits, locking the world down to this moment.
“Charges or manual?” Aaron asks.
I glance at the panel.
“Manual,” I answer. “I want it intact.”
Because this isn’t an entry.
It’s a retrieval.
I kneel, fingers already working the panel, stripping it down layer by layer. The system fights me—encrypted, stubborn, arrogant. I enter every code I’ve ever learned.
Just like Malenkov.
“Thirty seconds,” Miles murmurs.
Plenty.
I bypass the final lock.
The panel lights flicker.
The door remains closed.
For now.
I rise slowly, weapon ready, heart steady, every sense locked forward.
On the other side of this door—
Are the men Malenkov tried to turn into leverage.
Tried to break into weapons.
Tried to use against me.
I set my hand on the release.
And for the first time in four years—
I’m close enough to bring the last of them home.