Page 102 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“Copy that.” Ethan’s voice hardens with resolve.
I shift, and pain spikes through my leg. But my pulse steadies. For the first time since hitting the water, something close to hope flares in my chest.
“They’re inside.” Whisper stares at his screen. “Starting to map. Getting layout data.”
Malfor’s about to learn what happens when you take something from men like us.
THIRTY-FOUR
Into the Drainage Tunnel
GABE
The bumblebeeslimp back with fragmented intel. Broken. Destroyed. But not before delivering their deadly payload and mapping enough of the compound for our mission.
“Drainage tunnel entrance coordinates locked.” Whisper’s tablet bathes his scarred face in ghostly blue light, his eyes reflecting code sequences and death.
My SIG weighs a thousand pounds tonight. I slide my finger along the barrel, feeling every scratch, every kill etched into its metal. Around me, men transform into machines—methodical hands checking magazines, sealing waterproof packs, tightening tactical straps.
The cave holds its breath.
“Ninety minutes, max, before Malfor’s system detects the corruption.” Ghost cuts through our silence with a voice like gravel over bone. “Drone swarm released the Trojan package before neutralization.”
“After that?” Ethan’s eyes reflect firelight, twin flames of focused rage.
“After that, all hell breaks loose.” Ghost’s shoulders rise and fall, casual as discussing dinner plans. “Nanobots tearing eachother apart. Security systems failing. Backup generators kicking in.”
“Chaos.” The word tastes metallic on my tongue, like blood and victory mixed. Perfect. We thrive in chaos when others drown in it. Hank grins beside me. Like him, I’m eager to get this show on the road.
Rigel crouches beside one of the pilots, who sits alert against the cave wall. “You good to man comms?”
“I’ll be your eyes topside.” The pilot checks the equipment. His hands steady.
The tablet, earpiece, and sidearm we leave him look pathetically inadequate against the crushing darkness of the cave.
“Three miles to target. Remember, we’re ghosts. No trace.” Ghost scans each face, memorizing our features like a commander tallying his troops before a suicide mission.
Hank stares through the cave opening where moonlight fractures across black water. “Just like old times.”
Something electric crackles through the air. Understanding. Resolve. Hunger.
Yes. This time, we willingly embrace the crushing ocean. This time we choose to hunt. This time, we become the nightmares that stalk other men’s darkness.
“Comms check.” Whisper taps his ear, the tiny movement focusing everyone’s attention.
Twelve voices breathe confirmation one by one. Whispers in the dark.
“Let’s hunt.” Ghost’s nod sends us into motion.
The ocean swallows us whole. My injured leg screams rebellion. I shove the pain into a dark corner of my mind and lock the door. Pain belongs to tomorrow.
Black water. Black sky. Black purpose.
Waves smash against jagged rocks, spray raining down like ice shards. Every stroke resurrects yesterday’s nightmare—endless miles, burning muscles, death circling beneath. But fear finds no purchase tonight. Tonight, I am the creature other men fear.
Ally’s face appears in my mind each time I surface for air. Pale. Beautiful. Alive.
She has to be alive.
