Chapter 191
Raven
Cold water hit my face like a thousand frozen needles.
I jerked awake, choking, gasping—my body reacting before my mind caught up. The world came into focus in jagged fragments: concrete walls, flickering fluorescent lights, the acrid smell of smoke mixed with something metallic. Blood.
My hands were yanked behind me, wrists burning where zip ties cut into flesh. Not rope. Industrial-grade plastic restraints, the kind that tightened with every movement.
A massive explosion rocked the building. Dust rained from the ceiling. The fluorescent lights swung wildly, casting manic shadows across the room.
What the hell—
Gunfire erupted outside. Not the controlled bursts of a training exercise. This was chaos. Automatic weapons. Screaming. Someone shouting in what sounded like Russian or Arabic—I couldn't tell through the concrete walls and my pounding heartbeat.
The radio on the table crackled to life.
"—base is compromised! Repeat! Base is compromised! We can't hold them off! They're everywhere! Oh God, they're—"
Static. Then screaming. Then nothing.
My training kicked in. Assess. Analyze. Escape.
Except my body was screaming at me that something was wrong. The pain in my ribs—too sharp, too real. The taste of copper in my mouth. The way my vision swam when I tried to focus.
This isn't a drill.
The door exploded inward.
A man stepped through the smoke. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Tactical gear head to toe, all black, face obscured by a ballistic mask. In his right hand, a machete dripped something dark onto the concrete floor.
He moved with the fluid precision of a predator. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
And he was looking directly at me.
He crossed the room in three strides. I tried to pull away, but the zip ties held. He stopped directly in front of me, so close I could smell the gunpowder residue on his gear, the coppery tang of fresh blood.
Then he tossed something onto the floor at my feet.
Metal clinked against concrete. Dog tags. Military-issue, stamped with a name I knew too well: REEVES, MARCUS A.
Still attached to the chain was a severed hand.
The hand wore a ring. West Point class ring, distinctive eagle crest. I'd seen General Reeves gesture with that hand a dozen times during briefings.
My stomach lurched.
No. No, that's not—
"Your umbrella's dead." The voice came through a modulator, turning it into something inhuman. Metallic. Cold. "The old man had a hard head. Kept his mouth shut right up until we started cutting. Burned the Project Silence files before we could get to them."
He crouched down, bringing that masked face level with mine.
"Now the only people who know those names are in this building. You. And your two idiot friends next door."
Another explosion. Closer this time. The building shuddered. Somewhere down the hall, glass shattered.
From the room next to mine, I heard Katya scream.
Not the controlled scream of training. This was raw. Primal. The sound of someone who thought they were about to die.
"I don't know anything!" Her voice cracked, desperate, sobbing. "Please! My father has money! Billions! I can get you ten billion dollars! Please don't kill me! Please! ETHAN! ETHAN, WAKE UP!"
A heavy thud. Like a body hitting the floor.
Katya's sobs dissolved into hyperventilating gasps.
My pulse hammered in my ears. This is real. Reeves is dead. They're torturing Katya. Ethan might already be—
"Stand up." The modulated voice cut through my spiral.
I didn't move fast enough. Gloved hands grabbed my hair, yanked me to my feet. Pain exploded across my scalp. He dragged me to the wall, forced my face against one-way glass that looked into the adjacent room.
The scene beyond made my blood freeze.
Katya was suspended from the ceiling by her wrists, feet barely touching the ground. Her face was streaked with tears and snot. Blood ran from her nose. Three men in tactical gear surrounded her—one held a chainsaw.
Its motor roared to life. The sound was deafening even through the glass.
Katya's scream reached a pitch I didn't know human vocal cords could produce.
"I'll count to three." The masked man's voice was directly in my ear now. "Give me the first name on that list. Or your friend becomes two pieces."
The chainsaw revved higher.
"One."
Think. THINK. There has to be—
"Two."
Katya was screaming my name now. "RAVEN! RAVEN, PLEASE! TELL THEM! I DON'T WANT TO DIE! PLEASE!"