“Your word,” Wyatt said evenly. “As a man stealing nuclear weapons.”
“I’m a soldier following orders,” Akilov replied. “Same as you.”
The words slid too close to something true.
Wyatt locked down on the instinct to react. He didn’t get to pretend that obedience hadn’t once been his entire job. He’d learned too late the cost of that kind of loyalty.
Never again.“Hardly.”
“No?” Akilov’s tone sharpened. “How many men have you killed, Petty Officer Meyer? How many were just following orders when you pulled the trigger?”
Wyatt’s grip tightened on the radio as Akilov’s words found the bruise. Wyatt let them land and kept breathing.
He flexed his fingers, his knuckles popping. “Different.”
“Is it?”
Silence.
“Give me Chief Engineer James, and you walk away.”
The offer landed clean and surgical. Trade the asset. Preserve the operator.
Her hands on his thigh. The catch in her breath as she’d sealed his skin. The way she’d climbed back into gunfire because leaving him wasn’t something she could do.
He didn’t need to look at Jen to know what handing her over would mean—not just for her, but for the version of himself he’d spent years insisting was all he was good for.
Violence. Exit wounds.
But right now, Jen made him want something else. Something dangerous.
Adrenaline scalded his blood. He breathed through it. Forced it down. Akilov wanted a reaction. Wanted him rattled, emotional, making mistakes.
Not happening.
He gave it half a second because that’s what Akilov expected—some weighing of options. Except there was no debate. He wasn’t handing her over. Not while he was still breathing.
“Here’s my counteroffer,” Wyatt held the radio close. “You leave the platform. Now. Take your men. Swim for it if you have to. Leave the missiles. Leave the hostages.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Then I'll kill your men one by one.”
Laughter. “Bold words.”
“Not words,” Wyatt said. “A promise.”
Akilov exhaled slowly. “Our cargo vessel arrives soon. We don’t need control systems. We only need time and when we cut through that door, we will have no option but to kill you.”
“About that,” Wyatt said, glancing at the blackened console behind him. “Your engineer—the one you’re so interested in? She didn’t just lock the system down. She destroyed it,” Wyatt continued. “Burned out the hydraulics. The missiles are going nowhere.”
The pause that followed was longer.
“A charming idea. But wewillremove those missiles with whatever force is required.”
“Looking forward to it,” Wyatt said. “What should I call you when you get here? Captain? Akilov? Or the guy whose mission just failed?”
“You will call me the last face you see.”
