Well, they sure as hell weren’t dead, Jackson thought. But it felt as if everything had turned into a giant fireball.
Jackson threw his arm around Avery and pulled Riley in close, hunching over both of them as chunks of burning wood and twisted metal slammed into the mud around them. The blast had blown through the clearing like a hurricane. Heat, light, and noise folded into a single deafening roar.
He could barely hear his own voice when he shouted, “Stay down!”
The ground shuddered again as something huge crashed into the trees behind them. Smoke rolled through the rain, thick and acrid, choking the air.
Riley was crying, her hands clamped over her ears. Avery was trying to steady her, but Jackson could feel her trembling under his arm.
Another piece of debris hit the ground a few feet away, half a concrete wall from the training building, still smoldering at the edges.
Then came the sound. Warren screaming.
Jackson turned his head just enough to see him through the haze. A jagged slab of building material had landed square on Warren’s leg, pinning him to the ground. The man was thrashing, clawing at the mud, his voice breaking into hoarse curses.
Jackson didn’t move. He felt no sympathy. Not for a man who’d kidnapped two young women and tried to use Avery as bait.
“You did this to yourself,” Jackson muttered under his breath.
He tapped his comm. “Garrett, Cal, status report. Do you copy?” Static hissed back at him, sharp and useless. He tried again, voice tight. “Garrett, Cal, talk to me.”
Nothing.
He glanced around the clearing, blinking through the haze. The firelight painted everything in hellish color, orange against the rain, smoke curling up toward the black sky.
He could see Noah moving through the debris, limping but upright, his weapon raised. Isla was with him, her arm around Megan, leading the woman toward cover. Both of them were coughing, soot and ash streaked across their faces.
But there was no sign of Cal or Garrett.
Jackson’s stomach dropped.
“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, guys.”
He lifted his head just enough to scan the tree line, his heart pounding, the rain sizzling as it hit burning metal. Somewhere out there, the rest of the Brotherhood was either dead or regrouping.
And he needed to know which it was.
Static hissed through the comm before a voice finally cracked through it. “—son. Jackson, you copy?”
Jackson’s head jerked up, heart slamming. “Cal, that you?”
“Yeah.” Cal’s voice came in broken bursts, cut through with the hum of interference. “Garrett and I are all right. We went in through the back of the bunker before the explosion.”
Jackson exhaled hard, pressing a hand to the side of his comm. “Jesus, Cal. Thought you were under it.”
“Close enough,” Cal said, coughing. “The Brotherhood managed to get the door open. We used a couple of flashbangs to hold them back, buy time. Then…” His voice faltered, and when he came back on, it was rougher. “Then somebody inside set offa grenade. Looked like an accident, but it hit a munitions crate. Chain reaction. There was ammo…ordnance…hell, probably fuel.”
A pause.
Jackson looked out toward the blazing ruin behind the bunker. Flames still snapped in the rain, pieces of the roof glowing red-hot before collapsing into the mud.
Cal’s voice steadied, grim. “There’s nothing left of the building. Nothing left of the men who were inside. It’s gone. All of it.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The comm filled with the soft patter of rain and the distant crackle of fire.
Noah’s voice broke the silence, rough and tired. “Copy that.”
Jackson lowered his hand from the comm, the sound of Cal’s voice still echoing in his ears. He looked toward the bunker, its concrete slab now half-buried in smoke and ash. Then, he made a sweeping glance around.
