Chapter 25 25
"Minor wound, continuing mission."
Subject Two. That was code for one of the operatives. I wanted to know who, if they were going to be okay, but there was no time for those details.
The main building's security systems started failing, flashing alarms, then darkness.
"Power's down," Emily reported. "They're running on backup generators."
Through the monitors, I could see Team Two reaching the containment areas. The first door didn't yield to gunfire—reinforced, built to resist exactly this kind of assault.
Then I saw Alex step forward. His hands glowed faintly—something I'd never seen before—and the metal door glowed red hot, warping under pressure from inside.
"What is he doing—" Emily started.
"Thermal manipulation," I said, understanding suddenly. "He's heating the lock mechanisms from the inside until they fail."
The door fell.
"Subjects visible," Emily reported. "Multiple subjects in the first containment area."
I held my breath as I watched the operatives begin moving the subjects out. Some could walk. Others had to be carried. One was being dragged by two operatives—barely conscious, severely injured.
"Security is regrouping," Emily warned. "They're forming a defensive line in the upper corridor. Team Two will have to go through them to reach extraction."
Gunfire erupted. One of the operatives went down.
Charles.
I recognized him moving through the chaos on the monitors, fighting alongside Team Two. He was taking fire, bleeding from a shoulder wound, but still moving, still fighting.
"Medical needed in the corridor," Emily was saying. "Two operatives down. One critical."
"Tell them to fall back," I said immediately. "Get who they have and get out."
"They're not falling back," Emily said. "Team Two is pushing forward. They're accessing the second containment area."
More subjects. More people to get out. More time exposed to enemy fire.
The monitors flickered—the facility's backup power failing.
"I'm losing the feed," Emily said. "Can you—"
The screen went black.
All our monitors went black.
For a moment, we sat in stunned silence.
"Facility has gone dark," Emily said into her radio. "Repeating: facility has gone dark. Can anyone confirm status? Team One? Team Two?"
Nothing but static.
"We need to move," I said, standing up. "If the facility's down, they'll rely on manual systems. Security will be overwhelmed. Now is the time to get people out."
"Without knowing the status of our teams?" Emily asked incredulously.
"Yes," I said. "Because if we wait, more of our people die. And if there are subjects in that facility, they need us."
Emily made the call. We loaded the medical equipment into the van and headed for the facility.
The compound was chaos when we arrived.
The main gate was damaged, one guard station completely destroyed. Bodies lay on the ground—I tried not to think about whether they were guards or ours. The main building's windows glowed from internal fires.
"Get the medical stations set up," I told the team. "Now."
I moved toward the main entrance, drawn by something I couldn't name. Instinct. Necessity. Desperation.
The facility's front doors were twisted open. Inside, emergency lights cast everything in a red glow.
I called out, "Alex!"
No response.
I moved deeper, following the sound of footsteps, following the scent of blood and smoke.
I found him in the upper corridor, covered in blood—his and others—half-carrying a badly injured subject while Charles provided covering fire.
"Mia," Alex breathed when he saw me. "Get back. It's not safe—"
"Neither of you are moving," Emily's voice came through my earpiece. "And neither are half the subjects in the extraction zone. Medical team is set up. But we need people who can carry the injured."
I shifted my arms to partial Primal form, increasing strength without committing to full transformation.
"Give me whoever you've got," I said.
Charles relinquished the injured subject to me—a young woman whose left leg was clearly broken and who was bleeding from multiple wounds. I lifted her carefully, supporting her weight with Primal strength, and headed for the exit.
Alex was right behind me with another subject.
"Team One reports three wounded," Emily called. "One critical. We're losing one of our people if we don't get medical support immediately."
"On our way," I said, moving as fast as I could with the injured subject.
We emerged into the Romanian night air. The medical teams rushed forward, taking the subjects from our arms, laying them on prepared stretchers. I could see the critical case—one of Dave's operatives, bleeding from a chest wound.
"How many?" Alex asked, counting the subjects being loaded into the medical transport vehicle.
"Seventeen," Emily reported. "We got seventeen subjects out. The facility had confirmed twenty-three. Six we couldn't reach before security forced us to extract."
Six people we'd left behind.
"We can go back," I said immediately.
"Negative," Alex said. "Security is too organized now. If we push further, we lose more. We save the seventeen and come back for the six."
"Come back when? They're going to move them. They're going to hurt them worse as punishment for the escape attempt—"
"I know," Alex said, and his expression held nothing but pain. "Believe me, I know. But we're compromised now. We have to extract."
We loaded the subjects into the medical transport. The vehicles that had brought them pulled away, heading for the safehouses where medical professionals were waiting.
Dave appeared from the facility, blood on his face, one arm hanging awkwardly. "Team Two is clear," he reported. "One operative didn't make it. Sarah. She was running point on the second containment area when the secondary detonation went off."
Sarah. One of the operatives I'd trained with. One of the people I'd promised safety to.
"We left six subjects behind," I said.
"I know," Dave said quietly. "I'm sorry. We did what we could."
"It wasn't enough," I said.
"No," Dave agreed. "It wasn't. It’ll never be. There's always someone we can't save, somewhere we fail. That's the cost of this war. We save seventeen, we lose one operative, and six people stay trapped. That's the math of imperfect warfare."
I wanted to argue. Wanted to insist we could do better. But I was too exhausted, too traumatized, too aware that he was right.
"Get back to the vehicles," Alex commanded. "We need to move before security reorganizes completely."
We fell back in coordinated retreat, operatives covering our movement, heading toward the vehicles hidden a kilometer away.
As we drove away from the facility, I looked back one more time.
I thought about the six subjects we'd left behind.
I thought about Sarah, who'd died in those tunnels.
I thought about the cost of fighting a war where victory looked like failure and success meant learning to live with what you couldn't save.
"We'll come back for them," Alex said from beside me, his voice hoarse. "I promise you, we'll come back for the six."
"And Sarah?" I asked.
He didn't answer, which was answer enough.
The news of the facility raid spread through the supernatural community like wildfire.
Within hours of the story breaking, there were two competing narratives. The Alpha King network claimed we'd performed an illegal military assault against a legitimate research facility, killing innocent staff and endangering experimental subjects.