Chapter 16 The Choice
Sebastian’s hands, rough with concrete dust and streaked with drying blood, stayed cradling Aria’s face for a second longer. His thumbs, calloused and warm, swept once more over the high arch of her cheekbones, as if to confirm she was real, solid, alive. The grey of his eyes, usually the colour of a winter sea, was storm-dark now, churning with a relief so profound it hurt to look at.
“Insane,” he repeated, his voice a gravelly scrape against the ringing quiet left by the blast. The word was an anchor, a familiar thing to say when everything else inside him was a tumult of fear and ferocious love he couldn’t yet name aloud.
Aria leaned into his touch, her own hands coming up to wrap around his wrists. Her fingers were slender but strong, the knuckles white with tension and coated in a fine grey powder. She could feel the frantic drumbeat of his pulse beneath her fingertips, a rhythm that matched her own.
“You’re one to talk,” she breathed, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. It was a fragile thing, that smile, cracked at the edges like porcelain. “Refusing to leave. That was a stupid, noble, beautiful thing to do.”
Behind them, Marcus groaned, shifting his weight. The sound was a pragmatic intrusion. “Much as I’m enjoying the reunion,” he grunted, one hand pressed tight to the bloody tear in his tactical vest, his weathered face pale beneath its usual ruddy hue, “we are still standing in Wells’s basement. With, I’d wager, a significant number of very unhappy people on their way.”
Sebastian didn’t let go of Aria, just turned his head toward the two other operators. Liam, younger with a hawk-like intensity in his sharp green eyes, was already covering the east corridor, his weapon steady. Kieran, older, broader, with a silent, watchful calm about him, was doing the same to the west, his gaze constantly moving.
“Status?” Sebastian asked, his voice shifting into command mode, though one hand remained on Aria’s arm, a point of contact he seemed unable to break.
“East corridor clear for now,” Liam said, his voice tight. “But I can hear movement. Distant. Converging.”
“West is quiet,” Kieran rumbled. “Too quiet. They’ll be coming.”
Aria pulled gently from Sebastian’s grasp, though she let her hand slide down to tangle with his. His fingers immediately laced through hers, a hard, desperate grip. She looked at the blown-open hatch, at the smoking crater in the floor. “He’ll seal the surface exits. Try to funnel us. He wants us cornered.”
“So we don’t get cornered,” Sebastian said. He raised their joined hands, his eyes scanning her face, taking in the cut on her brow, the shadow of exhaustion under her eyes. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.” The words were bitten off, layered with a frustration that had been building for hours—the helplessness of hearing her in Wells’s office, the terror of the collapsing tunnel, the sheer, blinding panic when she’d offered her life for his. He brought her knuckles to his lips, a quick, hard press. The gesture was more a claim, a reassurance for himself, than a romantic one. “We do this together. Every step. You don’t run ahead. You don’t play the martyr. Not again.”
His gaze held hers, demanding a promise. Aria saw the raw fear there, just beneath the steel. It wasn’t fear of Wells, or of death. It was fear for her. The realization was a warm, sharp thing in her chest.
“Together,” she agreed, squeezing his hand. “But we need to move, Sebastian. He’s not just going to wait.”
Marcus limped forward, his breath hitching. “The service conduit,” he said, nodding toward a narrow, rusted door almost hidden behind a snarl of pipes. “Runs parallel to the main ventilation. Leads to the old generator room. Less guarded. Possibly forgotten.”
“Can you make it?” Aria asked, her eyes scanning the older man’s pallor.
Marcus gave a pained, defiant grin. “Try and stop me, girl. Just point me in the right direction.”
Liam was already at the conduit door, using the tip of his knife to pry at the old lock. “It’s rusty. Might make noise.”
“We’re past quiet,” Kieran stated, moving to cover Liam. “Speed is our cover now.”
With a sharp crack, the lock gave way. Liam pulled the door open, revealing a dark, narrow passage that smelled of damp metal and stale air. One by one, they filed in: Liam first, then Marcus leaning heavily on Kieran, then Sebastian, pulling Aria in after him.
The conduit was claustrophobic, the ceiling so low Sebastian had to duck his head. Pipes brushed against their shoulders, hissing with residual steam. The only light came from the tactical flashlight on Liam’s weapon, casting long, jumping shadows.
Here, in the cramped, intimate dark, the world shrank to the sound of their breathing, the scuff of their boots, and the persistent, grounding feel of Sebastian’s hand in hers.
“Back there,” Sebastian murmured, his voice barely a whisper meant for her alone. The words vibrated in the confined space. “When you told him to press the button… Aria, I felt my heart stop.”
She glanced at his profile, etched in the erratic light. “It was the only play. He needed to believe I was out of moves. That I was desperate.”
“You weren’t?”
“I was.” She admitted it quietly. “But not in the way he thought. I was desperate to get to you. Not to trade for you.”
He stopped for a second, turning in the tight space to face her. The pipes around them groaned. Up ahead, Liam held up a fist, signaling a halt at a junction.
Sebastian’s free hand came up, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw. “Hearing your voice in that office… him touching you. It took everything I had not to tear that tunnel apart with my bare hands.”
The confession was ragged, stripped of all commander’s composure. It was just a man, laid bare.
“He never broke me,” she whispered, leaning into his touch. “Not even close. Because all I could think about was you. That you were coming. That you’d find me. It was a stupid, reckless faith, but I held onto it.”
“It’s not stupid.” His forehead touched hers, a brief, solid press. Their breaths mingled in the dank air. “It’s the same faith that kept me digging when the rocks fell. The same faith that made me refuse to leave. It’s the only thing that’s made sense in any of this.”
Ahead, Liam whispered back, “Clear. Two paths. Left goes upward, toward the generator room. Right continues level, toward what looks like a storage area.”
“Left,” Marcus hissed. “Up is out.”
They moved again, a single organism in the dark. The upward slope was steep, the metal floor slick. Aria’s injured hand throbbed where she braced against a pipe, and she couldn’t stifle a small gasp.
Sebastian was instantly attuned. “Your hand.” It wasn’t a question.
“It’s fine. Just a cut from earlier.”
“Let me see.”
“Sebastian, not now—”
“Now.” The word brooked no argument. He tugged her gently to a stop as the others climbed ahead. In the faint, reflected light, he carefully turned her hand over. The gash across her palm was deep, crusted with dirt and blood. He swore softly, a raw, pained sound. He ripped a strip from the relatively clean lining of his own torn sleeve and, with a tenderness that contrasted violently with their surroundings, began to bind it.
“You should have said something,” he murmured, his focus entirely on the task, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks.
“There wasn’t time. There still isn’t.”
“There’s always time for this.” He finished the knot, his fingers lingering on her wrist, feeling her pulse. “I need you whole, Aria. Not just for the fight. For after. I am counting on an after.”
The simplicity of the statement, the vulnerability in it, stole her breath. She cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over a smudge of ash. “So am I.”
A loud clang echoed from ahead, followed by Liam’s sharp, “Contact!”
The moment shattered. Sebastian shoved Aria behind him, his weapon coming up as he moved past her to the front. Two guards had opened a service panel at the top of the slope. Liam was already engaged, firing two suppressed shots that dropped the first guard. The second fired wildly, the bullets pinging off the pipes around them.
Sebastian didn’t hesitate. A single, clean shot. The second guard fell.
Silence descended, heavy and thick with the smell of gunpowder and copper.
“They’re pinpointing our route,” Kieran stated, dragging the bodies out of the way. “That was not a patrol. That was an ambush.”
They burst out of the conduit into the cavernous, echoing space of the old generator room. Huge, defunct machines loomed like sleeping metal beasts in the gloom. Dim emergency lights cast pools of jaundiced yellow on the oily floor.
“We need to get to the north wall,” Marcus panted, slumping against a generator. His face was ghastly. “There’s a maintenance ladder. Leads to a manhole cover. Comes out near the perimeter fence.”
“Liam, Kieran, cover the door we just came through,” Sebastian ordered. “Aria, with me. Find that ladder.”
They moved between the giants of iron, their footsteps echoing. Sebastian kept her close, his body a constant, protective presence between her and the open spaces where threats could hide. His eyes never stopped moving, scanning shadows, assessing angles.
“There,” Aria pointed. Near the far wall, a rusted iron ladder ascended into darkness, bolted to the concrete beside a large drainage pipe.
A sudden burst of gunfire erupted from the doorway. Liam and Kieran returned fire, their shouts bouncing off the high ceiling. “They’re pouring in!” Kieran yelled. “We can’t hold this position!”
“Go!” Sebastian shouted to Aria, pushing her toward the ladder. “Get Marcus up! Now!”
Aria didn’t argue. She ran to Marcus, slinging his arm over her shoulders. “Come on, old man. Almost there.”
“I’m… slowing you down,” he gritted out, his weight heavy against her.
“You’re getting us out,” she corrected, hauling him toward the ladder. “Now climb!”
With a groan, Marcus began to pull himself up, rung by painful rung. Aria followed, one hand on the ladder, the other holding her pistol, aiming back into the room to cover Sebastian, Liam, and Kieran as they fought a retreating action toward them.
Sebastian moved with a lethal, focused grace, firing, moving to cover, firing again. He was a study in controlled violence, but Aria could see the strain in the set of his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw. He was tiring. They all were.
Liam reached the ladder next, scrambling up. Then Kieran, his broad frame making the old metal shriek in protest.
“Sebastian!” Aria called down.
He fired two more shots, then turned and sprinted for the ladder. As his boot hit the first rung, a new group of guards surged from behind a generator, their weapons raised.
Aria fired, forcing them to duck. Sebastian climbed, his eyes locked on hers. He was ten feet from the top when the shot rang out.
It wasn’t from the guards below.
It came from above, from the manhole cover at the top of the shaft.
The bullet struck the rung just beside Sebastian’s head, spraying sparks. He flinched, losing his grip for one terrifying second before grabbing on again.
Aria looked up. Silhouetted against the grey circle of twilight sky above, a figure peered down, aiming a pistol straight at Sebastian.
Wells.
His face was calm, composed, a stark contrast to the chaos below. He smiled, a small, chilling curve of his lips.
“Hello, Sebastian,” his voice echoed down the shaft, smooth as silk. “Did you really think I’d forget my own lueprints?”
He took aim again, not at Sebastian this time, but directly at Aria.
“Let’s end this where it began,” Wells said. “With a choice.”