EXTRACTION POINT

EXTRACTION POINT
Aria’s POV

The dark never really leaves the room.

Even when the light flickers on for a second, it feels thin, weak, like it does not belong here. The walls are concrete, stained with damp marks that look like old shadows. The air smells like oil and metal and something bitter that burns my throat every time I breathe in.

I do not know how long I have been here.

I wasn’t talking, wasn’t giving them what they want and they got impatient, They brought me here, tortured me, tied me up, amd kept me here as they returned occasionally to drill me for answers I knew nothing of.

Nathan.

He did nothing, stood off to the side watching me till he picked up the whip himself, landing blows on my back, angry that I wouldn’t give it up, then when he was done, he whispered, that he was sorry in my ear.

That son of a bitch.

Time does strange things when fear becomes routine. Hours stretch. Minutes disappear. I count my breaths when my thoughts get too loud. I count the cracks in the wall. I listen for footsteps and try to guess what they mean.

Then the ground shakes.

It is not subtle. It is violent. A deep, sudden force that rattles the walls and throws dust into the air. The lights cut out completely this time. Alarms start screaming somewhere above me, sharp and panicked.

Men shout. Boots pound against concrete.

My heart slams so hard it hurts.

Another explosion follows, closer. Louder. I scream before I can stop myself and press back against the wall, wrists straining against the restraints. My breath comes out broken. My body is already shaking before my mind catches up.

Something is happening.

Gunfire erupts. Not distant. Not muffled. It cracks through the corridors outside the room, sharp and fast. Muzzle flashes light the narrow window in the door in brief bursts, like lightning trapped indoors.

I taste blood where I bit my lip.

Then voices cut through the chaos.

Not Russian.

Not the rough, cold sounds I have learned to fear.

These voices are sharp and controlled. Familiar in a way that makes my chest tighten painfully.

The door explodes inward.

Concrete chips fly. Smoke pours into the room. Two men fall before they even finish turning around. Their bodies hit the floor hard and do not move again.

And then I see them.

Enzo is first through the doorway. His face is hard, eyes bright behind his gear. Blood streaks his sleeve but his hands are steady. Matteo is there too, just behind him, weapon raised, scanning everything in seconds.

For half a heartbeat, my body forgets how to work.

Then the relief crashes over me so hard my knees nearly give out.

They are here.

All of them.

I make a sound that is half a sob and half a laugh. My throat burns. My eyes blur. My chest feels too full, like it might split open.

Enzo is at my side instantly.

“Aria,” he says, loud enough to cut through the alarms.

His hands are firm but careful as he grips my shoulders. Matteo is already cutting the restraints at my wrists, fast and precise. The moment the pressure releases, pain floods back in sharp and hot. I gasp.

I cling to them without thinking. My fingers curl into Enzo’s vest. Matteo steadies me when my legs wobble.

They are real. Solid. Alive.

“We’ve got you,” Matteo says.

My head nods even though my thoughts are scattered everywhere. I look between them, my eyes searching without permission.

“Dante?” I ask.

It slips out before I can stop it.

Enzo’s jaw tightens. He does not answer right away. He shifts his body slightly, already guiding me toward the door.

“Move,” he says instead. “We are leaving now.”

The silence is louder than the alarms.

Gunfire cracks again down the hall. Someone shouts. Another explosion rolls through the structure and dust rains from the ceiling. Enzo pulls me forward and I stumble, my legs weak and unsteady.

I can walk. Barely.

The corridor outside is chaos. Smoke fills the air. Lights flash on and off. Bodies lie in the hall, some still, some groaning. Blood smears across the concrete where boots have dragged through it.

Matteo is ahead of us now, clearing the path. Enzo stays close, his body a shield without him saying a word. Bullets slam into walls nearby. Something sparks and bursts behind us.

I hear Matteo shout into his comms. His voice is tight.

“We are moving. She is with us.”

Another voice answers. Distant but sharp.

“Hurry.”

We turn a corner and another blast hits. The ground bucks under my feet and I cry out as Enzo catches me before I fall. He lifts me without slowing, one arm tight around me as if I weigh nothing.

My head presses against his shoulder. His armor is cold and smells like smoke and sweat and metal. I grip him harder as the world tilts.

More gunfire. Closer now. Louder.

“Russians regrouping,” someone shouts.

We burst out into open ground inside the compound. Night air slams into my lungs, cold and sharp. Floodlights blaze and then explode as another detonation rips through the structure. The sky glows orange for a second.

I see Dante.

He stands near the far side of the compound, blood streaking his face and clothes, weapon raised. He is firing steadily, controlled, like the chaos does not touch him. Men fall around him but more keep coming.

My heart jumps into my throat.

“Dante!” I scream.

He looks toward us for a split second. His eyes lock on me. Relief flashes across his face, quick and fierce.

Then he turns back.

“Go,” he shouts. “Now.”

Enzo stops moving.

“No,” I cry. I twist in his arms, panic tearing through me. “We can not leave him.”

Dante fires again, stepping back as Russians close in from both sides.

“Enzo,” he yells. “Get her out.”

The command is final. Hard. Unbreakable.

Another explosion shakes the compound. The planted charges are going off. One by one. Too fast.

Enzo curses under his breath and turns, dragging me with him. I fight him with everything I have left, pounding against his chest, screaming Dante’s name until my voice breaks.

“Stop,” I sob. “Please. He is still there.”

“I know,” Enzo growls, his grip tightening as bullets tear past us. “I know.”

The blast comes without warning.

The world erupts in light and sound. A massive fireball consumes the far side of the compound. The shockwave slams into us and throws us forward. Enzo hits the ground hard, rolling to shield me as debris rains down.

My ears ring. My vision blurs.

When I look up, the compound is burning.

Flames crawl up the walls. Smoke pours into the sky. The structure collapses inward with a sound like the earth breaking apart.

Where Dante stood, there is nothing.

I scream.

I claw at Enzo, sobbing, trying to get free. My body shakes so hard I can barely breathe.

“He is there,” I cry. “He is still there.”

Enzo holds me with everything he has. His arms lock around me as sirens begin to wail in the distance. He turns, forcing my face away from the fire, and starts moving again.

I reach back anyway.

The night stretches long and broken around us.

And Dante does not come out.