Chapter 42
FORTY-TWO
Ryan tore through the corridor, boots pounding, Noah cradled against his chest. The boy had gone silent, his breath shallow and uneven. Every step Ryan took echoed in his skull like a countdown, every footfall a grim metronome ticking off what little time they had left.
Lucía’s voice cracked through his earpiece, laced with tension. “You’ve got movement behind you. Four, maybe five heat signatures. They’re closing. Fast.”
Ryan didn’t break stride. “Exit status?”
Gates voice came through, calm as ever, like he wasn’t knee-deep in a firestorm. “Southeast hatch is clear. I’m in position. Route is green for another sixty seconds, max.”
Smoke from the diversion fire bled into the ventilation system, cloaking the corridor in an oily haze. The air reeked of scorched plastic, extinguishers, and fear made tangible.
Ryan rounded a corner, nearly losing his footing, and hit the main junction.
A steel access door loomed ahead, slightly ajar.
Then the siren began.
Not the blaring kind—this one was subtler. Controlled. A proximity ping. Short, rhythmic chimes, like a heartbeat pulsing through the walls.
Lucía’s voice cut through his earpiece, taut and focused. “External trip. Motion sensors on the north ridge just went hot. You’ve been made.”
Ryan ducked low, rammed the door with his shoulder, and burst out onto a loading platform washed in the flicker of distant fire. The moon hung low behind the smoke. Gates and Reyes were crouched behind a stack of pallets, rifles up.
“Here! Move!” Gates barked.
Ryan sprinted toward them, Noah clutched tight against his chest. The boy’s arms locked around his neck. Behind them came shouts, boots, and the metallic echo of gunfire in the building.
Gates keyed his comm. “Lucía, status on exfil?”
Static cracked, then her voice came through, louder now, wind rushing in the background. “I’m inbound. Two clicks out. Hold for sixty seconds.”
Ryan slid in behind cover, panting. “You’re cutting it close.”
Lucía didn’t miss a beat. “Change that. New contact. SUV on the ridge. Six armed men. They’re heading straight for your exit. You need to move now or you’ll lose the beach.”
Gates cursed softly. “Copy. We’re moving.”
Reyes rose and fired a short burst into the dark, forcing the advancing shadows to scatter. Ryan took the opening and bolted, lungs burning, boots hammering asphalt. Noah’s weight dragged at his arms, but adrenaline kept him moving.
“ETA thirty seconds,” Lucía’s voice came again, the boat’s engine roaring behind her words. “You’ll see my light.”
“Go!” Gates shouted, falling in beside Ryan.
They tore downhill, gravel and ash skidding underfoot. The loading dock gave way to a stretch of uneven dirt, then to the edge of the inlet, jagged rocks and coarse sand.
Ryan pushed forward, breath ragged. His shirt was soaked with sweat, and every muscle screamed. The wind carried the crackle of fire and the shouts of pursuit. Ahead, through smoke and salt spray, the faint beam of a running light cut across the dark water—Lucía’s boat charging toward the shore.
He saw her at the boat’s console, eyes wide, scanning the shadows. She gunned the engine, veering the craft toward them through shallow water.
“Incoming!” she shouted.
From the ridge above, muzzle flashes burst like fireworks.
Ryan dove, twisting mid-air so that Noah was shielded beneath him. The sand exploded in a spray of dirt and pebbles as bullets chewed into the shoreline inches from where they landed.
Gates was already pivoting, firing back in short, disciplined bursts. His stance was clean, no panic. Every shot was a message.
“Board now!” he barked.
Lucía swung the boat closer, the hull grinding over rocks and sand.
Ryan pushed up, grabbed the edge of the railing, and shoved Noah aboard.
Then he followed, pulling hard until his knees hit the deck.
Reyes went next, then Gates vaulted in last, landing with a thud and immediately scanning their rear.
Lucía jammed the throttle forward. The boat roared and peeled away, throwing a wake of white water behind them. More shots rang out, wild now, chasing ghosts.
Ryan fell back against the bench, chest heaving, Noah held tight. He could feel the boy’s heartbeat against his ribs. Lucía turned from the wheel. Her mouth was drawn, but her eyes searched his with desperate clarity. “Are you okay?”
He looked at her. Then at Gates, who was crouched near the bow, watching the compound vanish into the smoky dark.
“Yeah,” Ryan said, though it didn’t feel true. “We’re okay.”