Chapter 802
The wind howled outside, masking the sound of boots on gravel. I sat in the security hub, eyes glued to the monitors.
“Target identified,” I spoke into the comms. “Sector 4. RPG.”
“RPG?” Liam’s voice cracked over the radio. “They brought rockets?”
“Activating countermeasures,” I said. I typed a command.
𝗙ol𝘭о𝘸 𝗎𝗌 о𝗇 𝗀а𝘭ոo𝘃е𝘭ѕ.𝖼о𝗺
Outside, a concealed sprinkler system erupted—not with water, but with a high-density foam that hardened on contact. It sprayed the mercenary with the RPG, blinding him and gumming up the weapon’s firing mechanism.
“Nice shot, wifey.” Alistair’s voice was tight with pain but steady. He was holding the main staircase, using cover to compensate for his limited mobility.
“They’re scattering,” I reported. “Breaching the gate.”
Below me, the firefight erupted. Muzzle flashes lit up the night. I worked the console, locking doors to funnel the attackers into Lucian’s kill zones.
“Rear breach!” Felix shouted.
“I have no angle on the rear!” I yelled.
“I got it!” Grigori’s voice boomed.
I switched camera feeds. Grigori, the chef, leaned out the second-floor kitchen window. He dumped a large cauldron of boiling oil mixed with chili powder onto the climbers below.
The climbers screamed and fell.
“Remind me to give him a raise,” I muttered.
The battle raged for twenty minutes. We were outnumbered, but we had the home-field advantage. Finally, the remaining mercenaries retreated, dragging their wounded.
“Cease fire,” Alistair ordered. “They’re pulling back.”
I slumped in the chair, shaking. The adrenaline crash hit me hard.
“Skye?” Alistair’s voice. “Report.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m coming out.”
I met them in the hallway. Alistair leaned heavily against the wall, his bandage soaked through again, his face gray. He grabbed me, pulling me into a crushing hug with his good arm.
“You did good.”
My phone rang.
It wasn’t the secure line. It was my personal cell.
I looked at the ID. Unknown.
I answered and put it on speaker.
“Skye.” Ethan’s voice. Calm. Smooth.
“Ethan,” I said. “Your men failed. Your EMP failed. You’re losing.”
“Am I?” Ethan chuckled. “I didn’t expect the mercenaries to kill you. I just needed them to keep you busy while I went shopping.”
“Shopping for what?”
“Leverage.”
A video file popped up on my phone. I clicked it.
It was a live feed. A dark room. A man tied to a chair, beaten, unconscious.
Julian.
“No,” I gasped.
“How?” Alistair growled. “Julian was in the secure bunker at—”
“He made a choice,” Ethan said, his voice dripping with malice. “I gave him an ultimatum: either he comes out to face me, or I vent nerve gas into the lower levels where your support staff—including Parker—were hiding. Julian, the noble fool, traded his life for your tech boy.”
“If you touch him—”
“Bring me the Master Access Key,” Ethan said. “The biometric drive for Project Insight. Meet me at the Old Ironworks at dawn. Alone.”
“If I see Alistair,” Ethan added, his voice dropping an octave, “Julian dies. If I see cops, Julian dies. Just you and me, Skye. Ending it where it—”
The line went dead.
I looked at Alistair. He had seen the video. His face was a mask of pure, cold rage.
“He has Julian,” I whispered.
“We get him back,” Alistair said.
“He said alone.”
“He lies.” Alistair checked his weapon. “We go together. But we play his game.”
“How? You can barely walk.”
Alistair looked at Liam. “We need a distraction. A big one. Liam, can you get a chopper?”
“I can hire one,” Liam said. “Felix can fly it.”
“Good,” Alistair said. “Skye, put on your tactical vest. We’re going to—”