Page 121 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
A soft gasp escapes me at the faintest flutter of his fingers against mine. Not much. But real. Enough.
The scanner pings again.
“Contact right off the port side!” Blake shouts. “We’ve got sixty seconds before it’s on us!”
The world narrows to chaos—yells, weapons drawn, team bracing for impact.
But I stay here.
In the blood.
In the silence.
In the space between breaths, where everything I love hangs in the balance.
If we make it.
No.
When.
Because I didn’t survive hell to lose him now.
“We’ve got him, Ally. Trawler’s rigged for trauma response. He’ll make it.” Carter curses, throttling up the engines.
Our RIB surges forward, slamming harder into the waves. Hank’s body jolts with each impact. I brace myself against his side, trying to stabilize him.
“Multiple contacts,” Walt confirms from the other boat. “Aquatic drones. And something on radar—aerial pursuit.”
Rigel touches my shoulder, pointing to the night sky behind us. Tiny red lights blink in formation. Getting closer.
“Malfor’s persistent.” Jeb checks his weapon, expression grim.
Something changes in the air—a subtle electric charge raising the hairs on my arms. Mia’s head snaps up in alarm. She feels it too.
“They’re deploying nanobots!” I shout to Gabe. “Swarm pattern!”
The microscopic hunters will find us, tag us, and lead the drones straight to our position, no matter how fast we run.
Gabe’s head turns sharply. “Blake?—”
“On it.” Blake digs in his gear, pulling out a cylindrical device with blinking lights. “EMP ready. Thirty-second countdown.”
The aerial drones are close enough now to hear their high-pitched whine over the boat engines. Red targeting lasers sweep the water around us.
“Brace!” Carter throws our RIB into a hard turn.
Water explodes ten yards to starboard—a miss, but close enough to shower us with spray. Malia screams. Blake returns fire from the mounted gun, tracer rounds arcing into the night sky.
The second RIB veers sharply to the left as two aquatic drones breach the surface, their sleek forms gleaming wetly in the moonlight. Walt opens fire, driving one back underwater. The other launches something—a projectile that rips through their RIB’s hull.
“Taking water!” Ethan’s voice crackles through comms. “Hull breach!”
Blake activates the EMP device, tossing it high into the air between our boats. It detonates in a silent pulse of blue-white light. The pursuing drones falter, their lights flickering and dying as they plummet into the sea.
The electric feeling dissipates—threat neutralized.
Our momentary victory evaporates as Walt’s voice cuts through: “We’re going down! RIB 2 is sinking.”
