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Either Brennan is alive or he isn’t. If he is, nothing will stop me from saving him. If he isn’t, nothing will stop me from avenging him.
If Brennan is dead, I’m not leaving that plane.
I stop outside the cargo door and pull out my weapons. One hand stays in the air as I lay them on the ground, then kick them away. Metal clatters across pavement.
There isn’t a whisper of sound from inside the hold.
“Henry, I’m coming in!”
My eyes take a few seconds to adjust from the afternoon glare to the pitch black of the tilted hold. I keep my hands over my head as spots of color burst and bleed across my vision.
A smothered shout draws my attention. There, toward the nose of the plane. I spin—
Merde, it’s Brennan.
He’s on his knees, forced down in front of Henry, facing me. Hands bound behind his back, mouth gagged. His suit jacket is gone, and his dress shirt is covered in dirt and bloodstains. A bruise blooms across his face, from his jaw up to his left eye.
Henry is behind him, with his weapon pressed to the back of Brennan’s skull.
I’ll never forget this moment. Not for as long as I live.
As I expected, Henry has stationed the Russians flying with him on the upper deck. I spot five men with rifles overhead, their muzzles trained on me. Three men are covering the cargo door from the rear of the plane. That leaves twelve more in the dark, plus the pilots.
“Why, Henry? Just tell me why.”
Henry laughs. It’s the same laugh I’ve heard for years, the two of us bullshitting and hanging out and sharing beers, but this isn’t the man I thought I knew.
“After what he’s done?” Henry pushes his weapon against Brennan’s head.
I lurch forward.
“Don’t move, Reese.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
Henry sneers.
“What did he do? Explain this to me, because I can’t understand what’s happening.”
“He’s dragging us where we don’t belong!” Henry roars. “The rest of the world is not our fucking problem. I spent too many years of my life fighting other people’s wars, and finally, finally we were done. But now this asshole thinks he can save everybody!”
“Henry—”
“Saving people who can’t save themselves is not our fucking fight. I learned that. Hell, Sheridan learned, too, but he’s too blinded by his hero worship of you to think clearly.”
Or maybe Sheridan is a far better man than you.
“Do you have any idea what I have given up? What real Americans have given up?”
“Henry—”
“Do you have any idea how much American blood we’ve wasted? For countries that don’t give one fucking shit about us? The whole fucking world is an ocean of American blood, and he—” Henry grabs Brennan’s hair and drags him closer, digs his pistol into Brennan’s temple. “He’s going to make more Americans die for this ungrateful fucking world.”
“Henry, merde, what are you even saying?”
“I’m saying someone has to stop him.”
“By betraying the US to Russia?”
