2025-02-28 10:09:29
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They ran.Dylan’s boots pounded against the wet floor, echoing louder than the shots behind them. His heart thudded even harder—like it might break his ribs. Molly’s arms clung tighter around his neck with every jolt.Vivian led the way now, her weapon swinging side to side, eyes scanning every shadow. The heat from the boiler lines made the air heavy, thick with rust and old smoke. Pipes hissed above them like angry snakes, some leaking steam so hot it could melt skin.“No signal still,” Vivian muttered, glancing at her scanner. “Whatever this place is—it’s jamming everything.”Dylan didn’t answer. His whole focus was on the little body in his arms.She felt too light.She hadn’t said another word since warning him. Her cheek rested against his shoulder now, but her small fingers still clutched his shirt like she was trying to hang on to something real.“We’re close,” Vivian said. “There should be a hatch up ahead—access tunnel out. If it’s not locked down—”She stopped.Dead.Dylan
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The rusted gate groaned on its hinges as Vivian slipped through first, weapon sweeping left to right. The tunnel beyond was dim and dripping—cracked floor lights flickered beneath a thin layer of murky water.Dylan followed close behind, every step tense. “Where would they even keep a hostage down here?”Vivian checked her scanner. “No signals. Could be storage. Boiler rooms. N7 means sector seven—probably retrofitted an old maintenance area.”Then came the sound—fragile, trembling.Muffled sobs.Childlike.Vivian’s posture straightened, boots splashing faster through the shallow puddles.Dylan’s breath hitched. “Molly?”From the shadows, a hunched figure recoiled, then stumbled. A little girl—bloodied knees, tangled hair, duct tape dangling from one wrist.“Molly!” Dylan choked, rushing past Vivian.The girl lifted her head—dazed, eyes searching. Then they locked on him.“Daddy?”He dropped his weapon without hesitation, falling to his knees and pulling her into his arms. “Oh God. Mo
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Mara pointed behind the living room sofa. “They installed a small mic unit—wired into the wall.” Vivian stared. “So they’ve had eyes and ears inside for longer than we thought.” Dylan said quietly, “We’re in a goddamn fishbowl.” Marie called out suddenly. “I’ve got movement on CCTV. Pause it.” She stuck a headset on. Vivian and Dylan leaned in as flickering frames advanced. They saw Garren walking through the corridor, just past midnight two nights ago. In his hand was a small device—and he slipped into the bathroom, just as AlphaGhost was being installed. Vivian’s voice went cold. “Pause. Zoom.” Marie did. Garren clicked a panel, pulled a small drive from under the sink. Dylan’s eyes went wide. “That’s BIOS level.” Vivian said flatly: “He had physical access. He’s the one who planted the software. And the burner.” Silence hung. Marie whispered, “He pinged HQ. That’s how they knew to hit us.” Dylan pressed forward. “We take him alive. We need answers, locations. He’s the
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She tapped the screen. The message opened, the pin marking them as the target. Vivian swallowed and reached for her comm. “Dylan,” she called out, voice taut. He appeared in the doorway seconds later, rifle raised. “What is it?” Vivian didn’t look away from the phone. She whispered, “We’ve got a mole.” “What?” A moment passed. “Someone in the apartment pinged their position.” She slid the burner across the desk in silent accusation. “From inside.” Dylan’s face drained. “But we swept three times—no outsiders.” “Unless someone from our own did it,” Vivian said. Marie and Mara arrived, eyes widening. Mara said softly, “Helen’s last words…” Vivian cut her off. “Exactly.” Marie said, half to herself, “We bled together. We risked our lives.” She squared her shoulders. “But if someone inside fed them?” Vivian closed her eyes and replied, “And it’s not one of us, it’s someone with access to HQ intel. The burner phone was planted, or slipped in.” Dylan rubbed his temple. “Theta-9
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Suddenly, another figure emerged from the smoke — tall, broad-shouldered, but cautious. Mask down, face shadowed but unmistakable in the dim light. The last intruder. Dylan leveled his rifle. “Who sent you?” he demanded, voice low but fierce, like the growl of a cornered animal. The man sneered, lips curling. “Viktor.” The name hit Dylan like a punch to the gut — Viktor. The puppeteer behind the relentless attacks, the dark force pulling strings. “Viktor’s orders,” the man spat, stepping forward. Dylan’s grip tightened on the rifle, eyes narrowing. “You’re done here.” The intruder lunged, knife flashing. Dylan sidestepped smoothly, ducking the blow. With a brutal uppercut, he slammed his fist into the man’s jaw, cracking bone. The attacker staggered but recovered quickly, swinging wildly. Dylan’s breath was heavy, heart pounding thunderously in his chest. The fight wasn’t just survival anymore — it was retribution. He feinted left, then drove his knee into the intruder’s ri
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“It’s not going to hold,” Vivian warned. “They’re pushing teams in waves.”“Then we buy time,” Dylan said, voice low. “I’ll use the front to distract again. Vivian, watch the rear. Mara, get Helen across the threshold to the living room.”Dylan sprinted to the front room, rifle raised. He swept in a wide arc, firing through the bookshelf gap. Two intruders advanced—he dropped one, grazed the other.A third stepped behind him. Dylan turned and struck with the rifle’s butt, sending the man reeling backward. A gasp, a crash, and Dylan vaulted past him, the path now cleared.“Go! Move!” he roared, signaling the others.Vivian switched to a side door guard, rifle scanning. Marie rushed to Mara’s side, helping carry Helen through the living room toward a sturdied doorway entry.Smoke drifted sideways from the hallway into the kitchen. They regrouped behind the solid wood counter.“Everyone good?” Dylan asked, catching his breath.Marie checked Helen’s pulse. “Weak, but holding. We need to c
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