Page 75 of Echo: Burn
"Kane...”
"I know the risks. But we're out of options and out of time." I turn to face him. "Either we get that evidence now, or we watch thousands of people die at the inauguration while the Committee gets away with it. Those are the choices."
Tommy nods slowly. "Then let's make sure you have every advantage I can give you."
"That's all I ask."
I head to the armory for final weapons check. Willa's already there, gearing up alongside Stryker. They work in comfortable silence, two people who've learned to trust each other in combat.
"Ready?" I ask her.
She chambers a round in her rifle. "As I'll ever be."
"Remember the rules. Stay behind cover. Follow orders. If I say run...”
"I know." She meets my eyes. "I'll consider it."
Stryker laughs. "She's got your number, boss."
"Everyone keeps saying that."
"Because it's true." Willa adjusts her vest. "But Kane? I'm trusting you to bring me home. Don't make me regret it."
"Never." I check my own gear one final time. Magazines loaded. Comms functioning. Med kit stocked. Everything in place for a mission that could save thousands or kill us all.
Thirty minutes.
That's all the time left before we walk into hell.
I look at Willa one more time, memorizing her face, the way she stands, the determination in her eyes. If this is the last time I see her alive, I want to remember everything.
"Let's go save the world," I say.
She smiles, but there's steel underneath. "Let's go finish this."
We move out together, weapons ready, love declared, promises made that we might not live to keep.
Willa's already at the vehicle bay, loading gear with Stryker. She catches my eye across the space, and I see the same determination I feel.
No more time for doubt. No more time for fear.
Time to move.
16
WILLA
Countdown: 52 Hours
The tactical vehicle rumbles through the darkness, headlights off, running on night vision and Tommy's remote guidance. I sit in the back between Kane and Stryker, rifle across my lap, body armor heavy on my shoulders. Odin lies at my feet, alert but quiet, sensing the tension radiating from everyone in the vehicle.
I went from a quiet life in Whitefish—treating dogs and cats, going to work, going home, convincing myself the last six years of running from Jack were finally over—to riding toward a suspected chemical weapons facility with a team of former black ops soldiers. I’m carrying enough firepower to start a small war. I should be terrified. Instead, I feel awake for the first time since I walked out on my relationship with Jack.
"Five minutes," Kane says quietly. His hand finds mine in the darkness, squeezes once. A promise. A prayer. Maybe both.
I squeeze back, remembering earlier in the armory. The desperation in his touch. The way he said "I love you" like he was afraid he'd never get another chance. The promises we made to each other knowing we might not live to keep them.
"You good?" Stryker asks me.
