Chapter 27

chapter

twenty-seven

"Don't do it, Pierce." Rhiannon's voice was steady, though her eyes were wide. "Don't give them what they want."

Drake's eyes hardened. "Your talents, in exchange for her life. A simple trade."

Pierce's mind raced. He couldn't let them hurt her, but he couldn't unleash the full power of Tectra-X into the world either.

"Tick-tock," Drake said softly. "Make your choice."

Pierce took a slow, shaky breath, then nodded.

"No!" Rhiannon protested. "Don't. I'm not worth it."

Of course she was worth it. To him, she was. But he was also very aware of the stakes here. He needed to stall, needed time to think.

Behind his back, he clenched his fists in his best approximation of the sign for trust. He just hoped she saw it and realized what he was trying to say.

"Smart man," Drake said and pulled a pocket knife from his coat. He flipped it open and approached slowly. "I'm going to cut you free now. Don't try anything stupid, or she dies."

The tie broke away, and he rubbed his wrists, trying to work some feeling back into his fingers. Blood rushed back into his hands, the pins and needles almost unbearable. Two guards grabbed his arms, hauling him to his feet.

"Take him to the lab," Drake ordered. "And ensure she remains... secure."

As they led him away, Pierce signed, "I'll come back for you."

Rhiannon managed a faint smile and mouthed, "I'll hold you to that."

They escorted him down a dimly lit corridor, the air growing colder with each step. Pierce's mind was a whirlwind. He needed a plan—fast.

They entered a large room filled with equipment. In the center stood Tectra-X, a sleek matte metal cylinder with an array of small, circular devices radiating out like the arms of a deadly spider—seismic nodes, each one designed to burrow deep into fault lines.

The sight of it sent a jolt of dread through him.

"Everything you need is here," Drake said, appearing beside him. "So… fix it."

Around the base of Tectra-X were panels of glass through which intricate circuits and data screens pulsed with a faint, ominous blue light. There were readouts, monitors, and indicators, all feeding back information in real time. It was a system built for precision—though Pierce knew from bitter experience how easily that precision could fail, unleashing a level of chaos no one could control.

He grabbed a legal pad and pen from a nearby table and wrote:

I'll need time.

"Within reason. And remember…" He tilted his head toward his guards. "We're watching."

And tools.

One guard stepped forward and set a toolbox on a nearby table. He opened it but didn't move away. Instead, he stood guard over it with his arms crossed.

Drake nodded to the man. "If you need a tool, you ask Brock. He'll give you what you need and take it back as soon as you're done."

So they didn't trust him with a full array of tools.

He grumbled inwardly, then wrote:

This will go faster if Rhiannon is here to translate.

He hated that he couldn't see her and had no idea what they were doing to her.

Drake scoffed. "I don't think so. The pad and paper work just fine. Now get to work."

Fuck.

Pierce wrote:

Screwdriver.

The meathead handed him one. As he turned to the device, he subtly surveyed his surroundings. Security cameras covered the angles, but there were blind spots. He noticed a vent near the floor—a possible escape route if he could access it. But the guards at the lab's door and Drake's hawk-eyed scrutiny were a problem.

He eyed the guards, then scribbled on the pad and held it up.

Why hire Halston?

Drake read the note and gave a genuine laugh, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the mercenaries. "You think I'd trust Halston's meatheads with this? Fuck, no. Rick Halston has one goal and one goal only: money. His guys' loyalty can be bought for the right price. These are my men. True, some of them used to be with Halston, but they've found a higher calling. I'm offering them something much more powerful than money: salvation."

Suddenly, a few missing puzzle pieces clicked into place. Pierce had wondered where the leaders of Hope's Embrace had gotten their ideas about an earthquake wiping all but the so-called "embraced" from the earth. One of the survivors had claimed that the leaders had only specifically settled on the earthquake as the apocalyptic event in the last few years. Drake had manipulated Hope's Embrace, feeding their apocalyptic delusions with the promise of Tectra-X.

You told Hope's Embrace about Tectra-X.

Drake's smile turned smug. "I may have planted a seed or two. It's remarkable what people will believe when they're desperate for meaning."

Pierce's gut churned.

You manipulated them. Used their beliefs to further your own agenda.

"Manipulation is such an ugly word. I prefer to think of it as a mutually beneficial arrangement." Drake's eyes gleamed with a fanatic's zeal. "They got their apocalypse, and I get the power to reshape the world as I see fit."

Jesus. He'd been a fool to believe Tectra-X could be anything than what it was—a weapon of mass destruction. Its very existence was a threat, and now it was in the hands of a megalomaniac.

He had to find a way to stop this madness.

So, these soldiers are all from Hope's Embrace?

Drake considered the men for a moment before answering. "They're called The Purifiers. Hope's Embrace adopted their beliefs but was never part of the main sect. I don't subscribe to their beliefs, but their faith has made them the most loyal of soldiers. Now, stop stalling and get to work."

Fuck. He wasn't going to get any more answers, was he?

Pierce drew a deep breath and powered up the device. He hated how easily it all came back to him as he ran diagnostics. Tectra-X's core was intact, but several key components were fried.

He wrote on his notepad and held it up, whistling to get Drake's attention.

What happened when you fired it the first time?

Drake's lips pursed as he read the note. "It malfunctioned."

Pierce growled softly.

No shit. How?

"The first test was... problematic. The device misfired, causing localized tremors that damaged the power supply and fried several circuit boards. It's supposed to be targeted destruction. It shouldn't damage itself or anything around it when it fires."

Exactly the same thing happened when they first tested the prototype in Turkey all those years ago. And the damage now was just as extensive and widespread as it had been then. It was impossible to aim an earthquake, but Drake hadn't wanted to believe it then, and it was clear he still didn't want to believe it now. Pierce shook his head in frustration and grabbed the notepad again, scribbling furiously.

It's not a precision weapon. It never was. It never will be. The seismic waves are too unpredictable and too powerful. There's no controlling an earthquake once it starts.

He underlined the last sentence for emphasis before holding it up.

Drake's eyes narrowed as he read the message. "That's not what you promised when you designed it."

Pierce's jaw clenched. He snatched the notepad back and wrote:

I was wrong. I didn't know then what I know now. Tectra-X is too dangerous. It can't be fixed because the very concept is flawed.

"I don't believe that. You're stalling."

Pierce shook his head vehemently and gestured to the damaged device, trying to make him see reason. But Drake's expression only hardened further.

"I'll make this very simple." Drake left the room for several minutes. When he returned, he dragged Rhiannon with him. He took a gun from one of his guards and pressed the barrel to her head. "Fix the weapon, or watch your girlfriend die right now."

Rhiannon's beautiful eyes streamed with tears, but she didn't make a sound. By the stubborn tilt of her chin, he knew she refused to give Drake that satisfaction.

Her life… or countless others.

An impossible choice.

But he knew there was really only one choice he could make.

He held up his hands in submission and moved over to the device. He requested the screwdriver again and opened a panel to expose its intricate inner workings. As he peered inside, he subtly palmed the screwdriver, but the meathead caught him and snatched it out of his hand.

Fuck.

But then he spotted the pen and notepad.

He met Rhiannon's gaze, hoping she read the apology in his eyes. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow, and she gave an almost imperceptible nod.

"I love you," he whispered, the words scraping his throat like shards of glass. But he wasn't going to kill them without telling her out loud at least once.

"I love you, too," she whispered back. "Do it."

Drake realized what was happening was a beat too late. He let go of Rhiannon and lunged forward, but he was too slow.

Pierce spun and stabbed his pen into the volatile heart of his worst mistake.

The explosion rocked the SUVs on their wheels and blew out the windows.

Ethan swore and jerked the wheel to keep them from crashing into a huge piece of concrete that slammed into the road in front of them. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt. Dust and smoke billowed from the building ahead, obscuring everything in a hazy gray cloud.

"Jesus Christ," Donovan murmured, righting himself in the backseat. "What the hell just happened?"

Rylan didn't wait for a response. He was already pushing open his door, assault rifle in hand.

According to Oz's intel, Pierce and Rhiannon were in that warehouse.

"They could still be alive." His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. His hand shook so hard he could barely grip his rifle.

"Yeah, of course, they could. There's always a chance," Zak said, his voice weirdly rusty. He let Raszta out of the vehicle. "Razzy, search. Find Pierce. Find Rhia. Search."

Moving in tight formation, they picked their way through the debris field, weapons ready. The acrid stench of smoke choked the air. Small fires still burned here and there. It looked like a war zone.

Raszta moved over the rubble effortlessly, nose to the ground, poking through piles of concrete and rebar.

"Over here!" one of Ethan's men called.

Rylan spun toward the voice as two men pulled a sheet of metal off a body—a horribly charred body. It didn't even look human anymore.

"Pierce?" Rylan croaked.

"No," Zak said, grasping his shoulder in a steadying grip. "Rylan, breathe. This body is too big. Too much fat to be Pierce. C'mon, let's keep searching."

Raszta let out a sharp bark and began digging furiously at a mound of concrete and twisted metal. Rylan's heart leaped into his throat as he rushed over, the others close behind.

"I see something!" Zak called out, pointing. "Look under there. A hole in the floor."

"Someone's in there. Help me!" Images of Rhiannon's vibrant smile flashed through Rylan's mind as he lifted chunk after chunk of concrete and threw it aside.

Rhia couldn't be gone.

Pierce couldn't be gone.

He refused to believe it.

His muscles burned, his breath came in short, panicked gasps, and sweat dripped off him in rivers, blurring his vision.

Or maybe that was tears.

He couldn't tell anymore.

Time passed in a haze of frantic movements and desperate prayers. Each piece of debris he cleared only amplified the dread coiling in his stomach.

Beside him, Zak and the others worked furiously, their faces grim with determination.

"Come on, come on," Rylan muttered, his voice breaking. "Please be alive."

With a final heave, they cleared the last of the concrete. The hole in the floor—formerly some kind of vent—yawned open, revealing a small, dark space beneath the rubble.

Zak shone a flashlight into the opening, illuminating two huddled forms. Pierce lay curled protectively around Rhiannon, his body shielding hers from the debris. Both were covered in dust and blood, their eyes closed, unmoving.

Raszta lay down and stared over the edge of the hole at his favorite person. He whined, the sound like a heartbreaking question.

Zak set a soothing hand on his head. "It's okay, pal," he murmured. "You found them. You did good. You're a good dog."

"No, no, no," Rylan chanted under his breath as he reached for them with shaking hands. He pressed trembling fingers to their necks, feeling for a pulse. "Come on, sis. Don't do this to me."

A second passed. Two. Three. Then he felt it— the faint flutter of a heartbeat beneath his fingertips. Pierce first, then Rhiannon.

Relief crashed over Rylan like a tidal wave, so intense it nearly brought him to his knees. He slumped forward, his forehead pressed to the edge of the opening as he exhaled a shaky breath. "They're alive!"