Page 53 of Wraith: Lethal Impact

"Got it. Failsafe neutralized." Ivy exhales, her hands trembling over the keys as the countdown vanishes. "We forced a collision in the encryption matrix. We're in."

The rapid clatter of keys slows to a steady pace. The facility quiets, save for the thrum of the generator and the rain starting to lash the metal roof.

I step away from the workbench.

The crash leaves a lingering ache in my muscles. The exhaustion of the last forty-eight hours drags at me. The extraction. The escape through the jungle. The claiming in the dark room.

My body is screaming for sleep. My mind refuses to shut down.

I walk to the gear bags piled near the rusted oil drums, crouch down, and pull a spare magazine from my rig. The metallic weight is familiar and grounding. I thumb the brass casings of the 5.56 rounds, counting them.

One. Two. Three.

The memory of the empty magazine is a phantom ache in my chest. The hollow click that cost my men their lives echoes in the silent corners of my mind.

I slide the magazine into my plate carrier. The weight is an anchor against the rising panic. I will not run dry again. I will not fail the woman sleeping in the next room.

The rain intensifies, a downpour drumming against the corrugated metal roof. The air inside the facility grows damp and cold.

"You're packing twice your usual loadout."

I don't look up. Bronco stands a few feet away, leaning against a support beam, his expression stripped of the earlier teasing.

I check the action on my sidearm. "Need the firepower."

"That's not what I'm talking about." Bronco crosses his arms. "I'm talking about you. You look at her like she's your last breath. The distance is gone. The sniper left the nest."

He's right.

"Distance failed me in Kandahar." I hold Bronco's gaze, the truth bitter on my tongue. "I stayed too far away. Sat behind the scope. My men died. I won't make that mistake with Lily."

Bronco's expression softens, a flicker of understanding crossing his rugged features. He knows the ghosts haunting my sleep.

"Just don't get too close to the blast radius." He turns back to his weapon. "We need you sharp, brother. Not bleeding out for a lost cause."

I walk away. The truth is too raw, the vulnerability too new.

The wooden door to the secure room groans on its rusted hinges.

Lily steps into the main facility.

The air leaves my lungs.

She wears a pair of my spare tactical pants, cinched at the waist with a nylon belt. An oversized olive drab T-shirt hangs off her frame, the hem reaching mid-thigh. Her dark hair is damp, falling in loose waves around her shoulders. The bruises on her arms are stark against her pale skin.

She looks like a ghost wandering through a war zone. But her posture is different. The fragile ballerina who danced in the Solarium is gone. The woman in the doorway carries a quiet, dangerous resilience.

She survived the fire. She survived me.

She finds me across the cavernous room. The connection is instantaneous, a physical jolt locking us together. The heat of the last three hours flashes between us, a shared secret in the heavy air.

I close the distance, my boots echoing against the concrete.

"You should be sleeping." I stop a foot away. The urge to pull her into my arms is a physical ache.

"I couldn't." Her voice is quiet but steady. She looks up at me, green eyes clear of fear. "Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Andrea in that elevator."

Guilt sits heavy in my chest. I prioritized Lily, and Andrea is the debt I have to pay.