Page 17 of Echo: Burn
But she's right about one thing—it's her choice to make.
I just hope it's not the choice that gets her killed.
Tommy's scanner crackles to life, and his expression goes white.
"Kane." His voice is tight. "We've got a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"The Committee just activated a secondary asset." He pulls up a file, and my blood turns to ice. "They've contracted a specialist. A cleaner."
The room goes deathly quiet.
Cleaners are the Committee's solution when standard assets fail. They're ghosts, freelancers with skills that make Tier One operators look like amateurs. They don't leave witnesses. They don't leave evidence. They just leave bodies.
"Who?" I ask, though part of me already knows.
Tommy's hands shake as he types. A face appears on screen—cold eyes, angular features, kill count in the triple digits.
"Dominic Cray," he says quietly. "The Committee's bringing in the best killer money can buy."
Willa stares at the screen, and I see the moment she understands what this means. Not just men with guns. Not just soldiers following orders.
A predator specifically designed to hunt people like her.
"How long until he gets here?" she asks, voice steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes.
Tommy checks his intel feed. His face goes even whiter. "He's already here. Landed in Kalispell two hours ago."
Two hours. Cray's had two hours to work the problem. He doesn't know where she is—doesn't know about Echo Base or that she's with us. But he knows she saved the dog, and he'll be smart enough to figure out that Odin is the only leverage worth using.
He'll set the trap. Then he'll find a way to make her walk into it.
My hand finds the grip of my sidearm without conscious thought.
5
WILLA
The name on the screen means nothing to me, but the way every man in the room goes still tells me everything I need to know. Dominic Cray.
"Two hours," I repeat, forcing my voice steady. "What can one man do in two hours?"
Kane's expression is granite. "More than you want to know."
I watch their reactions. Stryker's humor evaporates. His hands move to check weapons with automatic precision. Mercer shifts position, putting his back to the wall, eyes scanning for threats that aren't there. Rourke remains eerily still, but his jaw tightens. Calculations run behind those cold eyes.
"Tommy, I want everything you have on Cray." Kane's command voice cuts through the silence. "Travel patterns, known associates, preferred tactics."
"On it." Tommy's fingers fly across keyboards.
I watch Kane's hand rest on his sidearm. The burns on his neck catch the harsh light, scars pulling tight with tension.
"Doc." He turns those damaged eyes on me. "You should get some rest."
"No." I snarl. "Stop trying to protect me by keeping me in the dark. If this Cray person is coming for me, I need to know what I'm facing."
Stryker makes that strangled laugh sound. "She's got a point, boss."
