Chapter 28
Russ
She’s standing.
Barely.
The second the ropes hit the floor, her knees wobble hard enough my stomach drops with them.
No time to think about that.
No time to think about the bruises along her throat or the blood soaking through the side of her shirt or the fact that seeing her tied to that chair nearly ripped something apart inside me.
I grab her hand.
“Move.”
Gunfire cracks somewhere deeper in the compound as we hit the hallway.
Concrete walls throw every shot back at us, turning the corridor into one long echo of violence.
“They know we’re here,” Clay snaps through comms.
“No kidding,” Miles fires back. “Whole place is waking up.”
“Rear exit’s compromised,” Lucas says. “Hostiles moving your direction fast.”
Of course they are.
I pull Olivia behind me as we round the corner.
Lights overhead flicker weakly.
One sparks near the far intersection.
Shadows jump across the walls.
Movement—
Two guards appear ahead.
I fire twice.
Bodies hit the floor before they fully register what happened.
“Left.”
Olivia turns with me instantly, one hand pressed low against her side when she thinks I’m not looking.
I notice anyway.
Blood darkens her shirt beneath her fingers.
Too much of it.
Something vicious claws up my spine.
Later.
Deal with it later.
Because if I let myself fully feel what they did to her right now, I’ll turn this entire compound into ash.
We cut through a side corridor lined with metal doors. One hangs open, medical supplies scattered across the floor—gauze, syringes, overturned trays.
Olivia slows.
“Russ—”
“Keep moving.”
“I heard children—”
“I know.”
The answer comes out rougher than I mean it to.
Her mouth tightens slightly.
Because she knows exactly what I’m doing.
Pushing forward.
Refusing to look at the bigger problem sitting between us.
Children.
Dr. Hannah Bowers.
Dr. Stephen Cole.
Still somewhere inside this nightmare.
Gunfire erupts ahead.
I catch Olivia by the waist and yank her backward just as bullets rip through the wall where her head was.
Concrete explodes across the hallway.
I shove her behind me and fire around the corner.
One man drops.
Another.
A third disappears back behind cover.
“Russ!” Lucas barks through comms. “Move!”
“We’re pinned.”
“Not for long,” Clay cuts in. “Thirty seconds.”
Thirty seconds in a firefight is forever.
I glance back.
Olivia’s pressed against the wall breathing hard, one arm wrapped around her ribs while she fights to stay upright.
Still trying not to slow me down.
Still trying to look stronger than she is.
That nearly destroys me.
I step closer and brace one arm above her head while firing blindly down the hall with the other.
“Tell me how bad.”
Her eyes flash. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“It’s not ideal.”
That answer almost makes me lose my mind.
“Olivia.”
She exhales shakily. “I got hit again. Opposite side. I don’t know how deep.”
A bullet slams into the wall near us.
I fire back on instinct.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She actually looks offended. “You seemed busy storming a compound.”
Even now.
Even bleeding and exhausted, she still throws those dry little comments at me like she’s holding the world together through sheer stubbornness.
God.
I’m in love with her.
The realization hits so hard and clean there’s no room left to deny it.
No room to run from it either.
“I’m carrying you.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“And I said no.”
“Olivia—”
“If you carry me, you slow down.”
“If I leave you standing, you collapse.”
“I haven’t yet.”
But her voice frays around the edges.
I hear the strain in every breath now.
Clay’s voice explodes through comms.
“Move! Now!”
Flash-bang.
Shouting.
Automatic fire.
Clay and Lucas opening a path.
I grab Olivia’s hand again.
“Run.”
We break from cover together.
Her stride stutters almost immediately, and without thinking I slow to match her pace automatically.
Adjusting.
Covering.
Staying between her and every threat.
We slam through a metal service door and burst into cold night air.
Thank God.
For one brief second, I think we’re clear.
Then gunfire erupts from the watchtower.
I drive Olivia behind a concrete barrier as bullets shred the ground around us.
She lands hard with a sharp gasp, hand flying instantly back to her wound.
Damn it.
I crouch beside her immediately.
“Talk to me.”
“I’m fine.”
“Stop saying that.”
Her mouth actually twitches.
The sight of it—here, now, bleeding and half-conscious while the world burns around us—hits me so hard I forget how to breathe.
I press my hand over hers at her side.
Warm blood floods across my palm instantly.
Way too much.
“She’s bleeding faster now,” I bite into comms.
“We’re coming to you,” Lucas answers.
“No.”
Olivia says it immediately.
I look at her.
Her skin’s ghost-pale beneath the dirt now. Sweat dampens the strands of hair stuck against her temples.
Still sharp-eyed anyway.
Still fighting.
“The children,” she says. “They split them up.”
Everything inside me stills.
“What?”
She swallows hard and keeps pressure against her wound. “East wing infirmary. Younger kids were there. Hannah and Stephen were alive last time I heard anything.”
Clay’s voice cuts in sharply. “Repeat that.”
She does.
Every word costs her.
I can hear it.
But she pushes through anyway.
Because even now she’s thinking about everybody else before herself.
When she finishes, silence hangs for half a second.
Then Miles mutters, “Well. That changes things.”
Yeah.
It does.
Because we came here for Olivia.
Get in.
Get her out.
Done.
Except now there are still children inside.
Doctors.
Hostages.
And I already know what Olivia’s going to say before she opens her mouth.
“You have to go back.”
“No.”
Her eyes harden instantly. “Russ—”
“No.”
“They’ll move them.”
“I said no.”
She stares at me like she can force reason into me through sheer willpower.
Normally?
Maybe she could.
Not tonight.
Not while she’s bleeding in front of me.
“I am not leaving you out here alone.”
“You won’t. Leave me with Miles.”
“No.”
“Russ.”
“Olivia.”
Her eyes close for one second too long.
Cold fear tears through me instantly.
I catch her face gently between my hands.
“Hey.”
Her lashes lift slowly.
“There you are.”
Something in her expression softens then.
Cracks open.
And suddenly the gunfire fades into the background.
The compound.
The shouting.
The blood.
None of it matters for one impossible second.
Just her looking at me like I’m the only thing holding her together.
“I knew you’d come,” she whispers.
The words hit harder than bullets ever could.
Because she says them so simply.
Like she never doubted it.
Like she held onto that certainty through everything they did to her.
I rest my forehead briefly against hers.
“I’m sorry it took so long.”
Her breath catches softly.
“You’re here now.”
Gunfire erupts nearby again.
Reality slams back into place.
Clay vaults over the barrier beside us with Lucas right behind him.
“We’ve got movement from the east tower and trucks incoming south side,” Clay says. His eyes flick toward the blood on Olivia’s hands. “She walking?”
“No,” I answer immediately.
“Yes,” Olivia says at the same time.
Lucas snorts once. “Glad we cleared that up.”
Miles slides into cover beside us a second later. “Ninety seconds before this whole side gets flooded.”
His eyes drop to Olivia’s wound.
Expression darkening instantly.
“She’s crashing.”
I already know.
Now that the adrenaline’s fading, I can see it clearly.
The lag in her reactions.
The way her shoulders keep curling inward.
The effort it takes for her to focus on me.
Damn it.
Olivia catches me seeing it.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Look at me like I’m dying.”
My jaw locks instantly.
“You’re not dying.”
“Then stop looking like you’re planning mass murder.”
“Can’t promise that.”
Miles huffs out a rough laugh.
Clay checks his rifle. “Hate to interrupt this romantic battlefield moment, but we need a decision.”
He’s right.
Pull out now with Olivia.
Or split and hit the east wing.
Every option feels wrong.
Lucas is already thinking ahead. “If Hannah and Cole are alive, they’ll move them soon.”
“Meaning the clock started already,” Clay says.
Olivia’s fingers catch weakly on my wrist.
“You can’t leave them.”
Of course that’s what she cares about.
Not herself.
Never herself.
This woman.
This impossible woman.
God help me, I love her.
The truth settles into place so completely there’s no point fighting it anymore.
And because I love her, every choice in front of me feels unbearable.
I key comms hard enough my knuckles ache.
“Status on exfil?”
“North ridge. Two minutes.”
Too long.
“Medical?”
“Field kit only.”
Olivia sways slightly.
Decision made.
I slide one arm beneath her knees before she can argue and lift her against my chest.
She gasps softly. “Russ—”
“No.”
“You can’t just—”
“I can. Watch me.”
Her hand fists weakly in my shirt.
Then finally—
She stops fighting.
Really stops.
Her head tips against my shoulder, and I feel the tremor that runs through her the second she lets herself lean on me.
That almost wrecks me worse than the blood.
Miles exhales slowly. “Well. Guess that settles it.”
Clay’s eyes cut toward the compound. “Lucas and I circle east. If the kids are there, we pull them. If not, we level the building.”
“I’m going.”
“No,” Lucas says immediately. “Not carrying her.”
He’s right.
I hate him for it.
Clay checks his weapon. “Ten minutes.”
Then they disappear back into the dark.
Toward gunfire.
Toward danger.
And every instinct in me screams to follow.
Olivia shudders slightly against my chest.
That decides it.
Miles takes point. “Move.”
We run.
I keep her tight against me while we sprint across open ground toward the ridge line.
She’s too light.
Way too light.
Every jolt of my stride makes her tense despite how hard she tries to hide it.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
“For rescuing me?”
“For this.”
Her fingers tighten weakly in my shirt.
“I’ve had worse dates.”
A rough breath escapes me.
Almost a laugh.
Almost breaking.
Bullets rip into the dirt behind us.
Miles fires back without slowing. “You two can flirt after we survive.”
Olivia’s face presses briefly against my shoulder.
And somehow that tiny bit of trust gives me enough strength to keep running.
We clear the outer fence through a blown section Clay rigged earlier.
Almost there.
Almost—
Headlights explode across the ridge.
Truck.
Moving fast.
“DOWN!”
I hit the dirt behind a low bank, twisting hard so Olivia takes none of the impact.
Pain slams through my shoulder.
Ignore it.
The truck fishtails sideways as armed men spill out firing.
Miles opens up immediately from cover.
I lower Olivia carefully behind the dirt bank and rip open Clay’s med kit.
“Stay with me.”
“Still here.”
Barely.
I press gauze hard against her side.
She jerks sharply with a hiss.
“I know,” I murmur. “I know.”
Blood keeps soaking through anyway.
Too fast.
My comm crackles.
“Lucas to Russ. East wing confirmed. Two children recovered. No doctors yet.”
Olivia hears it too.
Her eyes close briefly.
“They’re alive.”
Some of them.
I cup the back of her neck gently. “They’ll get the rest.”
“And Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Stephen?”
“Yes.”
She studies my face like she’s searching for cracks in the promise.
I don’t give her any.
Even if I have to burn this entire operation to the ground myself.
The truck team pushes closer.
Miles drops another shooter.
Still too many angles.
I rise long enough to fire over the bank.
One hostile drops.
Another ducks behind the truck.
Then Olivia grabs my wrist.
“Russ.”
I look down.
And cold terror tears through me instantly.
She’s too pale.
Lips trembling.
Eyes struggling to stay focused.
“Hey. No.”
“Tired,” she whispers.
Ice floods my chest.
“No. Look at me.”
Her eyes flutter slowly.
“Olivia.”
I catch her face between my hands, ignoring everything else.
“Look at me.”
Her gaze finally finds mine again.
“There you are.”
My voice breaks anyway.
“You don’t get to leave me now.”
A tear slips down through the dirt on her cheek.
“I was scared you wouldn’t come.”
The confession nearly stops my heart.
I slide my hand into her hair carefully.
“I will always come for you.”
Always.
Not just tonight.
Not just here.
Always.
Automatic fire erupts from the ridge above us suddenly.
Different weapons.
Friendly.
Truck shooters start dropping instantly.
Miles glances up and grins. “There’s our ride.”
Black exfil vehicle tears down the ridge and skids hard behind cover.
Doors fly open.
“MOVE!”
I scoop Olivia back into my arms and run.
Every second feels stolen.
But then we’re inside.
Doors slam shut.
The vehicle launches forward.
And for the first time since I saw her tied to that chair—
Nobody’s actively trying to kill us.
Should feel like relief.
Doesn’t.
Because Olivia’s too still against me.
A medic slides toward us immediately. “Lay her down.”
I do.
Even though every part of me wants to keep holding on.
The medic cuts fabric, checks wounds, works fast.
“How bad?”
He doesn’t answer immediately.
I hate that silence.
Olivia’s eyes flutter open again and find mine instantly.
“Hey,” I whisper.
“Hey.”
Weak.
Still there.
I take her hand without hesitation.
Don’t care who sees it.
Outside, the compound disappears into darkness behind us.
But this isn’t over.
Not even close.
Because Lucas and Clay are still inside.
Because children are still missing.
Because Hannah Bowers and Stephen Cole are still out there somewhere.
And because the people who built this nightmare just made the worst mistake of their lives.