Page 98 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
Ethan gestures to the team. “Everyone, pair up for warmth.”
Standard cold-weather survival protocol. Shared body heat, emergency blankets, and minimal movement to conserve energy.
Across the cave, the others pair up—Ethan with one of the pilots, Walt with the other, Rigel with Blake, Jeb with Carter. Gabe and me.
Ten men reduced to shivering bodies huddled in a cave, fighting basic survival needs while planning their next move.
“Get some rest.” Ethan’s voice carries from the darkness. “Two-hour rotation for watch. Rigel first, then Blake, Walt, me.”
“What’s the plan?” Blake’s question speaks for all of us.
“At first light, we assess our position, inventory gear, and treat injuries.” Ethan’s answer comes without hesitation.
The cave falls silent save for the sound of waves crashing against the rocks outside. Gabe shifts beside me, shivering from cold and blood loss.
I drift toward sleep, my body surrendering to exhaustion. Sometime later, Gabe’s voice pulls me back.
“Hank.” His words come softly, meant for me alone. “I hear something.”
My eyes snap open; my senses are immediately alert, despite the bone-deep fatigue. I listen, filtering out the sound of waves, of breathing, of wind against rock.
Footsteps echo near the mouth of the cave—slow, deliberate. Every instinct fires hot. This place has no back door. No fallback. If someone found us, they mean to finish the job.
“Defensive positions.” Ethan directs with hand signals, placing us to maximize cover and fields of fire.
“Just like old times.” His attempt at humor does nothing to mask the gravity of our situation. I help Gabe into position behind a rock outcropping, ensuring he has a clear shot at the cave entrance while remaining protected.
“Shut up and aim straight.” I position myself beside him, my SIG P226 feeling inadequate against an unknown number of hostiles.
Weapons rise in unison. Ethan lifts his rifle, Walt draws his sidearm, and Blake drops into a crouch beside me, jaw clenched.
We spent the night swimming three goddamn miles through freezing ocean in total blackness. No light. No comms. No rescue. And now someone’s coming? Through this one entrance?
We stand or die here.
No one breathes.
THIRTY-THREE
Ghosts and Wolves
GABE
The footsteps grow closer.Whoever approaches makes no attempt at stealth. They know exactly where we are. The question is how—and who.
My pulse hammers against my ribs as I lock eyes with Hank. Firelight carves harsh shadows across his face, jaw tense, eyes calculating. We’re cornered like wounded animals, cave wall at our backs, ocean beyond.
Rigel signals from the entrance—four figures approaching, heavily armed, moving toward our position.
I shift and hot pain lances through my leg. The bandage seeps dark again. If they’re Malfor’s men, we’re cornered with minimal weapons and no escape. A perfect ending to their cleanup operation.
“If it’s them, we make it count.” Blake checks his sidearm, metal clicking against the damp cave walls.
I nod, tasting salt and copper. We won’t go easily.
A silhouette steps into the light. Tall. Confident. Everything about him screams a different kind of predator.
“Easy, boys.” His voice scrapes like gravel, tinged with amusement. “Unless one of you is feeling froggy.”
