Page 20 of Lost Hope

Maya followed, her cop’s mind struggling to catalog details through the fog of adrenaline crash. The mall’s muzak played on, something upbeat and forgettable, while somewhere above them early morning shoppers went about their normal lives, unaware of the violence that had just played out beneath their feet. She might not trust them, but Ronan was right about one thing—she needed their help to solve this case.

She’d trained her whole life to protect others, to serve justice. Now she couldn’t even protect herself.

The thought burned like acid in her throat.

Maya followed them through the service exit, leaving behind the cheerful muzak and oblivious shoppers. Her body ached, her confidence shaken, but something deeper than training or instinct steadied her steps. Whatever darkness lay ahead, she had to trust that God had placed these warriors in her path for a purpose.

10

FALL BACK POSITION

Ronan keptthem moving through the mall’s service corridors, his mind mapping exit routes while cataloging threats. Through the walls, they could hear the controlled chaos of first responders—radio chatter, boots on tile, the clipped tones of officers establishing a perimeter around their recent battle zone.

Maya moved well for someone without his training—staying low, checking corners, maintaining spacing. But she kept leading with her left, favoring the shoulder that had taken that hit back in the corridor. That’d get her killed if they ran into another team.

He caught Axel’s eye, got a slight nod. His partner had noticed too.

They paused at a junction as a pair of uniforms hustled past the corridor entrance, weapons drawn. The local PD’s response time was better than expected. They’d have the main concourse locked down by now, probably reviewing security footage.

“We need resources,” Axel said quietly. “Intelligence. Transport.”

“The library branch,” Maya whispered. “It’s why I came here. I can access federal databases, check our options.” Shehesitated. “But we’ll have to circle around. That section of the mall will be crawling with cops.”

Ronan didn’t like it. Going back inside meant limiting their escape routes, exposing themselves to security cameras, civilian witnesses. And now they’d have to evade both tactical teams and local law enforcement. But they needed intel.

“Two minutes,” he conceded. “We’ll use the service tunnel that runs behind the old department store. Axel, watch our six. Those cops are going to expand their search pattern soon.”

They ghosted through the maintenance tunnels, pausing whenever voices echoed too close. Above them, the mall’s PA system crackled to life, announcing the facility would be temporarily closed due to a “security incident.” That would clear most civilians, but it also meant every remaining person would be either law enforcement or hostile.

The library entrance was down a secondary corridor, past the defunct fountain. An elderly couple power-walking the perimeter stopped mid-stride as mall security directed them toward the exits. Each shuffling step sounded like a countdown timer.

“Hold,” Ronan whispered, pulling Maya back as two officers swept past, checking shop entrances. Through the glass walls of the library, he could see a drowsy clerk gathering her things, responding to the evacuation order.

They waited until she left, then slipped inside. Maya went straight to a computer station, and logged into the secure federal systems she could access.

“Knight Tactical,” Axel whispered, positioned where he could watch both entrance and escalator. “We gotta contact them. They’ve got resources, international reach, specialized extraction teams?—”

“No.” The word came out harder than Ronan intended.

“Found them,” Maya interrupted, scanning through database entries. Her eyebrows rose. “Multiple government contracts ... specialized training programs ... Your brother’s outfit is serious business.”

“He’s not my brother. I mean, he is technically, but?—”

“Did you know they just pulled off that impossible hostage situation in Buenos Aires?” Axel interrupted. “Full tactical support, clean exfil, zero civilian casualties?—”

“Enough.” Ronan stepped closer to his partner. “Since when are you such an expert on Murphy’s company?”

Another radio squawked nearby. Maya tensed, but kept typing.

“Did my homework after Buenos Aires hit the news,” Axel said, adjusting his position to better cover the entrance. “They’re impressive, Ro. And we need help.”

Maya kept scrolling. “They’ve got better resources than most federal agencies. Why wouldn’t we contact them?”

“The lady’s right. You got a better plan?” Axel pressed. “Because right now we’ve got no resources, no backup, and a federal agent with a target on her back. Plus about fifty cops who’d love to question us about those unconscious operators downstairs.”

Ronan turned away, running tactical scenarios that all led to the same conclusion. They needed help. Real help. The kind that came with clean paperwork and official credentials, not the under-the-table favors he usually traded in.

“Fine.” The word tasted like ash. “I’ll make the call.”

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