Chapter Thirteen

The Blackhawk'sblades pick up speed, the whoop, whoop, whoop almost comforting. Raelynn adjusts her headset, and next to her, West checks the pockets of his tactical vest. The SEAL has his rituals. We all do. But mine don't bring me any comfort. Not now. Not with Wren out there. Alone. With Dax and Rip gone.

Graham hauls his rucksack over his shoulder and heads for the bird. Inara's already on board. Griff and Connor too. The former FBI agent motions for me to hurry up. I check my watch. Sixty minutes until they expect me to show up. Sixty minutes until I can see Wren. Less than that, because I won't get close to them unless I get proof of life. For all of them.

Ford's plane will land at Boeing Field soon. Once Raelynn drops us three miles from Fort Worden, she'll hightail it back and pick up the rest of the team. If we're lucky as fuck, they'll make it before those assholes kill me.

I climb on board, and Inara passes me a bulky headset with built-in mic. "We're patched into the comms system," West says. "Griff, your glasses keeping up?"

"Don't worry about me. Second Sight's tech is solid." He flexes his fingers slowly, and it's almost impossible to believe they're not real. Pritchard hooked him up with the most advanced prosthetic in the world. One that allows him to feel what he touches. The glasses were a joint project. Royce worked with Dax for a year to perfect them. Speech to text at its best.

"Hold on to your butts," Raelynn says. She flips a couple of switches, and we rise smoothly from the helipad. "Until we get out of the city, keep the chatter to a minimum. We ain't got a legal flight plan here, and I gotta watch for other birds in the air. Also…legit birds."

Great. As if I needed anything else to worry about.

The city falls away in minutes. Despite the size of Seattle, it doesn't take long to leave its borders. Puget Sound spreads out under us, and our comms units beep. Zephyr's voice echoes in my ear.

"We have…a development," she says.

"What happened?" My heart races in my chest, and I ball my hands into fists.

"Check your phones. Sending you some footage now."

On screen, in a large, concrete room, three men work Dax and Ripper over.

"How did you get this?" West asks.

"I found the IMEI numbers—it's like a serial number—for the two burner phones Ramin used to contact you," Zephyr says, "and I played a hunch."

"The point?" I don't have the patience for this. Not when I'm watching my brothers being tortured.

"These guys aren't as smart as they think they are. They bought phones in bulk. The IMEIs are consecutive. I tried ten before I found one that pinged back. It's on, and it's connected to wifi. So…I hacked it."

"Can you see Wren?" I ask.

"Hacking the wifi didn't get me that footage," Zephyr says. "It got me a handful of text messages between Ramin and his cousin, Mashaal, detailing exactly how they're going to kill you. Do you wear a cup, Ryker? Preferably one that doesn't conduct electricity?"

"So they're going to torture me. Big fucking deal. You've seen me before, Zephyr. I can take it. How did you get the goddamn footage?"

"Someone spiked me," she says.

Next to me, Griff shakes his head. "Care to repeat that for those of us who don't speak hacker?"

"They tried to shut me down. For a lesser woman, this might have been a problem, but I reversed the spike. Long story short, it's bouncing all over the world, so whoever's behind it is a genius. Better than me. Maybe even as good as Wren. But also…I don't think they're completely on board with Ramin's evil plan."

I'm about to tell her to get to the fucking point when she continues. "Because they're the ones who sent me the footage of Dax and Ripper. Along with a schematic showing all the surveillance measures surrounding the Battery. And one single sentence. ‘Everything shuts down at 19:10.'"

On screen, page after page of designs unfold. We expected most of this. Drones. Trip wires. Cameras. They'll see us coming from a mile away. Which is why our drop point is three miles from the gates.

"So you're telling me I need to survive for twenty minutes. Ten minutes until this mystery person shuts down the countermeasures, and ten minutes for the calvary to get to me."

"Assuming this isn't some horrible trick? Yes."

West zooms in on the landscape around the Battery. "It's going to be close. These fuckers are loaded."

"How loaded?" Connor asks.

"Loaded enough, if they don't have five or six other men with him—beyond the ones we know about—I'll eat Raelynn's Stetson."

"Ain't no one eatin' my Stetson," Raelynn snaps. "Those damn things ain't cheap, and it's all broken in."

"I don't care how many men he has with him," I growl. "He has Wren, Dax, and Ripper. He's going to die screaming."

"Oh, that's a given," West says. "I'm more worried how much trouble they're going to give us before they start praying to their God for mercy. How much noise they'll make. And how many people we're going to need to pay off." He holds up his hand before I can tell him it doesn't matter. He knows it doesn't matter. That we'll pay anything. Do anything.

But he's right to be worried. To ask.

For the next twenty minutes, no one says a word. It'd take almost two hours to drive from Seattle to this remote coastal town, but less than thirty minutes by air.

"Ain't no room to set down," Raelynn says when we get close to the drop zone. "Y'all are gonna have to fast rope it."

We'd figured as much. West turns to face the rest of us. "Me, Inara, Graham, Griff, Connor, Ry. In that order. Drop quick and head for cover."

He tugs on a second pair of gloves, these designed for a solid grip on the rope, adjusts his ruck, and stands with his boots balanced on the edge of the deck. With a quick glance at the ground, he closes his eyes, then jumps.

Ten seconds later, Inara takes his place. When I'm the only one left, I squeeze my bulk into the front of the bird and rest my hand on Raelynn's shoulder. "You stay ‘in the van.' Got it?"

She meets my gaze, her blue eyes blazing behind her tinted glasses. "I don't say this lightly, Ry. But fuck you. I ain't stayin' in the goddamn van any more than you did for me. I got the all clear this mornin'. So don't get dead before I get back, you hear?"

She still carries the scars from almost dying at the hands of the Chicago mob. And though she'll never admit it, she's haunted by almost losing her guy less than a month ago. Yet she didn't hesitate when West asked if she'd fly us out here. Even called in a few favors to get access to this bird.

I've known Hidden Agenda was a family for years. Ever since West postponed his fucking wedding to fly to Russia to help me save Wren. But knowing and believing are two different things. Somehow, until this moment, I didn't truly believe these men and women would lay down their lives for me. But now…I have no doubt.

"Well, get back quick," I say. Then jump.

* * *

It takesus fifteen minutes to hoof it two miles east-northeast. No one speaks. West, Inara, and Graham keep exchanging glances like they're having a whole conversation without me.

We pause at the bottom of a hill and I strip off my ruck. In my ear, Zephyr's voice is calm. "You ready to make the call?"

"You're sure this is going to work?"

"It'll work. Wren might be better at hacking, but I'm the best in the world at deep fakes. Especially with this fancy new software Austin bought me last month. Stare straight ahead. Every ten or fifteen seconds, act like you're checking your rear view mirror. I'll do the rest."

West braces himself against a large pine tree, takes my phone, and calls Ramin. He'll hold the device at the right angle, so I can focus on the call. Zephyr's software will modify the video feed and make it appear like I'm in my truck on the highway. Or at least that's the plan. If those assholes figure out I'm really a mile from the Battery in the middle of the fucking forest, it could be the end of everything.

"McCabe. You are punctual," Ramin says when the call connects.

"Let me talk to my wife. Right fucking now."

"You do not make demands of me, murderer. You do what we say, when we say, and how we say." Behind him, another man—Mashaal, I think—holds an AK-47 like a shield.

"You have my brothers and my pregnant wife, asshole. I'm twenty minutes away. As ordered. And I'm alone." I gesture behind me, and damn. Zephyr is as good as she claims. The video shows the inside of my truck, complete with the carseat we installed a month ago. "You want me to conference in my team? They're still in Seattle—and pissed as hell about it. But if you think I'm going to let you lay a finger on me without knowing Wren's alive and unharmed, you're a fucking idiot."

Ramin starts walking, his brother Jalal falling into step behind him. There's nothing around them but concrete. From the photos we found online, they're somewhere on the second level of the Battery. There are dozens of bunkers down there. A maze of passageways, lookouts, and hidey holes. Wren could be anywhere.

"Open it," the man orders and switches the camera view to reveal a set of metal doors secured with a heavy padlock. Jalal pulls out a set of keys. When the door opens, I bite back a curse.

Wren huddles on the floor, her knees drawn up, and sweat beading on her forehead. She cowers deeper into the corner of the dimly lit space.

"Say something to your husband," Ramin says.

"Ry?" Her voice isn't steady, and she's trembling. "You can't do this."

"You and the baby are all that matters, little bird. Are you okay? Have they hurt you?"

"N-no. But Dax and Ripper...they took them too."

"I know, sweetheart. Evianna and Cara are safe. You'll be safe soon, too. You and the baby. When she's born, tell her how much I…I loved her."

"You need to tell her yourself. I can't…I'm…" She lets out an agonized whine that shatters my control. "No. Not yet. It's too…too soon!" Doubling over, she purses her lips, huffing out breath after breath as tears tumble down her cheeks.

"Wren! Fuck. Are you?—?"

"Uh huh," she gasps. "Still…six…minutes apart."

"You fucking piece of shit," I shout. "Get her to the hospital right now! She can't have the baby there!"

Ramin swears sharply. "Jalal! You were supposed to be watching her," he growls. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since she hit me and tried to escape. Two hours."

My rage boils over. It takes everything in me not to swipe the phone from West's hand. Ramin switches the video so his face appears on the screen. He looks almost…sorry. "I did not know, McCabe. I give you my word. My cousin, Hadi, has some medical training. He will stay with her until you arrive. The moment you are secured next to Holloway and Richards, Hadi will take her to the hospital. It is only a twenty-minute drive. She will not be harmed."

I can still hear Wren crying in the background, begging me not to come. "The cameras…they had to know!"

The metal door slams shut. Ramin's expression turns lethal. "Twenty minutes, McCabe. Go through the gates and follow the path to the first gun turret. We will be watching."

The call cuts off, and I sink to my knees. "She's been alone for hours. In labor."

No one says a word. West stares me down, equal parts fire and ice in his blue eyes. The rest of them just look guilty. "You fucking knew?"

"Whoever sent Zephyr the video of Dax and Rip sent a short one of Wren too," West says.

"And you kept it from me?" Pushing to my feet, I advance on him. The SEAL doesn't back down. "You don't get to decide what I do and do not need to know!"

"Yes, Ry. I do. I'm running this op." He shoves me hard enough I take a step back. "Hell, I'm running every op for the foreseeable future. You brought me in because you knew what I could do. And how well I could do it. I've planned every fucking mission for three goddamn years, and we've all come home. Every time."

"This is my wife!" I grab his arms and shove him back against the tree. "You had no right!"

He lowers his voice, the tone more lethal than I've ever heard. "I did. Because of this. Right here. We're less than a hundred yards from the first camera, and you're shouting loud enough to wake the dead. You want them to believe you're alone? This isn't the way to do it."

I let him go, but I can't find it in me to back away.

"Ry? He's right," Inara says. "You would have been out of your mind the whole flight. We still have to disable as many of their traps as we can and find a way to get you out of there beforethose idiots kill you. Any distraction could kill all of us. And Wren."

"E tu, kid?" I ask, turning to stare at Graham.

His gaze flicks to the SEAL, then back to me. "You've always been the team's rock, Ry. But this is your wife and baby. We all agreed we needed to get through as much of this op as we could before we told you."

"Can we fight about this later?" This from Griff, who holds a small black box in his good hand. "We only have seventeen minutes to get into position. Just got confirmation the truck is waiting for you."

"McCabe," West says, his hands on his hips, "when everyone's safe, you can tell me to fuck off. Or beat the shit out of me. I don't care. But until this is over, I give the orders. Pick up your ruck and move your ass. We have family to rescue."

He's right. Wren needs me. My daughter needs me. I shoulder the heavy pack and meet his gaze. "On your six, frogman. Lead the way."