All Chapters of The Exile's reckoning : Chapter 81
- Chapter 90
173 chapters
The Panic Room
Twelve feet by twelve feet. Steel walls on all sides. No windows. One door. One way in, one way out.Ten people crammed into a space designed for four.Marcus stood near the monitors, watching security feeds with his arms crossed. His four guards positioned themselves strategically—two near the door, two covering the team. Weapons weren't aimed, but they weren't holstered either.Nadia, Julie, and Reece clustered near Kai's medical cot. Helen sat in the only chair, her breathing labored, a tablet in her lap showing the same security feeds Marcus watched.Lila stood in the middle, the neutral ground between enemies forced into alliance."We survive first," Lila said, looking at each person in turn. "Fight later. Everyone agrees?"Marcus made a dismissive gesture. "Fine. But when this is over, when the Consortium is dealt with, we settle accounts. All of us.""Agreed," Nadia said, though her hand never left her weapon.The monitors showed hell. Consortium operators moving floor by floor
The Breach
The VX gas kept hissing through the vents, filling the panic room with invisible death.Ten minutes. Maybe less before the concentration reached lethal levels. Already someone was coughing—dry, painful coughs that wouldn't stop."We breach the door," Nadia said, checking her weapon. "Fight our way through. It's the only option.""That's suicide," Marcus said, staring at the monitors. "There are at least twenty operators outside. Trained professionals with superior positioning. We're ten people, two of them wounded, one unconscious.""Then we die fighting." Nadia's voice was flat. "Better than choking on nerve gas while they watch through cameras.""How do we get through twenty trained killers?" Julie asked. She was standing now, ready, her casted arm pressed against her body but her good hand steady on her pistol.Marcus's lead guard stepped forward. Rodriguez—forty years old, former Marine, twenty years protecting Marcus Blackwell. His face was calm despite the death sentence hanging
The Fall
Floor 40.Helen's voice was barely a whisper, her breath rattling in Nadia's ear. "Put me down. I'm done.""Shut up," Nadia gasped, her legs burning with every step. "You're coming with us.""I'm... dying. Been dying for months. Just... let me go.""No."Helen had stopped fighting. Her body was deadweight across Nadia's shoulders, growing heavier with each floor. Blood dripped from her mouth, leaving a trail on the stairs behind them. But Nadia kept carrying her, kept moving, kept refusing to leave anyone else behind.Floor 35.Reece collapsed.His leg had been wounded at the clinic, barely healed, held together by bandages and willpower. Now it gave out completely, blood soaking through his pants, pooling on the concrete landing.He tried to stand. Couldn't. Looked up at the others with eyes that knew what came next."Can't run," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. "Go without me.""We're not leaving you," Julie said immediately, trying to pull him up with her one good arm."
Three way war
Floor 5. Trapped.The stairwell had become a killbox. Above them, the Consortium operators were descending fast—four floors away, maybe less. Below, the CIA Special Activities Division was climbing with methodical efficiency—seven floors and closing.Both groups hunting. Both with orders to eliminate everyone involved.The team huddled on the landing, breathing hard, calculating impossible odds."CIA has shoot-on-sight orders," Marcus said, checking his weapon despite knowing it wouldn't matter. "We're all targets now. All witnesses."Helen lay against the wall, her breathing shallow and wet. Blood soaked through her shirt. The cancer, the beating, the stress—her body was finally giving up."We exposed Senator Vance," she rasped. "He had CIA protection. Black operations they couldn't acknowledge. We didn't just embarrass them. We burned their entire network."Nadia crouched beside her. "So they're erasing everyone. Consortium. Marcus. Us. Anyone who knows the truth.""Clean slate," He
Helen's sacrifice
The stairwell had become hell.Bullets flew from above and below, ricocheting off metal, punching through concrete, filling the air with the sound of death coming from every direction. The team huddled behind the inadequate cover of the stairwell railing—thin metal that wouldn't stop anything, just concealment, not protection.Nadia fired upward at the Consortium. Down at the CIA. Her magazine ran dry. She reloaded, fired again. But there were too many of them. Twenty operators, maybe more, professional and coordinated and closing in."We can't win this," Marcus said, blood running from the graze on his shoulder. "Too many of them.""Then we die here," Julie said, firing one-handed at shapes moving in the smoke below.Kai leaned against the wall, barely able to stand, his surgical wounds screaming with every movement. But he had Reece's rifle, and he fired when he could, dropping targets through sheer muscle memory because his brain was too fogged with pain and medication to aim prope
Surrounded
The underground parking garage was a tomb waiting to be sealed.FBI SWAT had transformed it into a kill zone—fifty agents in full tactical gear positioned behind armored vehicles, sniper teams on elevated positions, helicopters overhead with spotlights turning night into harsh artificial day.Red laser dots danced across the concrete pillars where the team had taken cover. Tiny points of light that marked where bullets would go when the order came.The loudspeaker crackled again: "KAI CROSS. MARCUS BLACKWELL. YOU ARE SURROUNDED. SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL BREACH."Marcus leaned against a pillar, blood from his shoulder wound soaking through his expensive suit. "They'll execute us the moment we surrender. Too many secrets. Too much exposure. We're liabilities now.""Then we don't surrender," Kai said, checking his rifle despite knowing it was nearly empty. His surgical wounds were screaming, his vision swimming, but he stayed upright through sheer will."We're outgunned fifty-to-
Morrison's Choice
SSA Morrison stood with his rifle aimed at Lila, his mind waging a war his training had never prepared him for.Twenty-three years in federal law enforcement. Two decades following orders, trusting the chain of command, believing that the Bureau represented justice. And now he was being ordered to execute an unarmed journalist in a parking garage because powerful people needed their crimes buried."Who gave you the kill order?" Lila asked, her voice steady despite the red laser dots painting her chest. "Was it direct from the FBI Director?""Classified," Morrison said automatically."It came from CIA, didn't it? Through back channels. Because they're protecting Consortium members.""That's conspiracy theory.""Then why are your orders to eliminate rather than capture?" Lila stepped forward despite the weapons aimed at her. "Marcus Blackwell is an intelligence goldmine. Thirty years of secrets, connections, operations. He could expose half the criminal networks in this country. So why
The Cleaners
Agent Reeves hit the ground hard, blood spraying from her shoulder. Not her head. The sniper had missed by inches—close enough to wound, not enough to kill.But the Consortium operators flooding into the parking garage weren't interested in second chances.Twelve of them. All in black tactical gear, night vision goggles, suppressed weapons that whispered death with each shot. They moved like ghosts, coordinated and lethal, flowing into the garage from multiple entry points.Morrison's FBI unit returned fire immediately, instinct overriding training. These were federal agents who'd come here to execute civilians, but faced with professional killers, they remembered what they actually were: law enforcement protecting the innocent."CONTACT! EAST ENTRANCE!" Morrison shouted, dropping behind an armored vehicle, firing controlled bursts at shadows moving through the darkness.His agents formed a defensive line, trying to create cover for the civilians caught in the middle. But they were ou
The Medic
The ladder emerged in an abandoned industrial district—the kind of neighborhood that died when manufacturing left and never recovered. Empty factories. Broken windows. Streets where nobody asked questions.Three AM. The city at its darkest.Reeves led them three blocks through shadows and alleys, moving with purpose despite her wounded shoulder. The team followed in silence, carrying Kai between them, too exhausted to speak.She stopped at an unmarked warehouse. No signs. No lights. Just another dead building in a district full of them.She knocked—a specific pattern. Once, twice, pause, three times.The door opened a crack. A man's face appeared, backlit, suspicious."Reeves. What the hell did you bring to my door?""Kai Cross. Marcus Blackwell. Consortium kill-teams hunting them."The man—Jack Torres, forty-something, with the weathered face of someone who'd seen too much combat—started to close the door. "No. Absolutely not. Get out.""Kabul. 2019. You remember."Torres stopped. Hi
Marcus's Gambit
Marcus lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, his expensive suit ruined beyond repair. Lila held his head in her lap, tears streaming down her face."Stay with me," she whispered. "Don't you dare die."The Consortium operator stepped closer, weapon aimed at Lila's head. Professional. Emotionless. Just another target to eliminate."He died protecting you," the operator said. "Sweet. Now it's your turn."His finger moved to the trigger.Marcus's hand emerged from his jacket, holding a small black device. A detonator. His thumb rested on the trigger button."Stop..." Marcus gasped, blood bubbling from his lips. "Or we all die..."The operator paused. "Empty threat.""Look around..." Marcus's other hand gestured weakly. "Semtex... every support column..."The team followed his gesture. There—on the structural pillars throughout the warehouse—small blocks of plastic explosive, professionally placed, wired to a central receiver.Torres's face went pale. "When did you—""Before we arri