18. Chapter 18

"Dean?"

A few hours go by tortuously slowly while we continue the drive to the location they're going to be leading the operation from. Dean is still thrumming with agitation and has yet to speak to me in full sentences. All I'm getting from him are one-word answers. The rude git isn't even looking at me. Sighing, I turn in my seat to face him.

"How long are you going to keep ignoring me?" I ask. Dean tears his eyes away from the road and looks at me.

"I'm not ignoring you, Jeyla, but I am pissed off," Dean says, his voice tight with frustration. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes narrowing as he shifts his gaze back to the road. "I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you snuck into the trunk of a military vehicle. What kind of person does that? Do you even realize how dangerous that was? You could have died in there, suffocated or been crushed if we got into an accident."

His words sting, but I refuse to back down. "When you're faced with the possibility of losing the two people you love most in this world, death suddenly seems insignificant in comparison," I reply, my voice softer but no less determined.

Dean lets out a long, exasperated sigh, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. "Jeyla, I told you I was going to get DJ back to you safely. Why couldn't you just trust me?"

"It's not about trust, Dean," I say, shaking my head, trying to make him understand. "It's never been about that. My heart simply wouldn't allow me to sit back and do nothing. Not after the last time. I couldn't just sit there, alone, waiting for that knock on the door from your superiors, telling me that I'd lost both you and DJ. The thought of it paralyzed me. I just… couldn't do it."

Dean's jaw tightens as he glances over at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of anger and concern. "And you think being close, being right in the middle of it all, would be any better? That somehow, watching or listening to everything unfold would hurt less? It won't, Jeyla. If anything, it will tear you apart even more. That memory will stay with you forever. That's what I've been trying to protect you from."

I shrug, my gaze dropping to my hands, fingers twisting together in my lap. "Maybe it would hurt more," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But at least I'd be there. At least I'd know. The uncertainty, the waiting, that would have killed me, Dean."

For a moment, silence fills the SUV, the tension between us thick and heavy. I can see the conflict in his eyes, the way his resolve wavers as he struggles to understand my need to be here, to be involved. Finally, he sighs again, a sound filled with resignation.

"I get it," he says quietly, his voice softer now, tinged with sadness. "I understand why you did it, but you should have thought about DJ before you put yourself at risk. If you had died in the trunk and I went on this mission and died too, did you stop to consider what might have happened to him?"

I look up at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. "I did, of course," I whisper. "It's all I've been thinking about, but knowing DJ has our families to love and care for him made the decision a little easier. DJ doesn't have a shortage of people who love him. He has his Uncle Oz and Auntie Ash, and his godparents who I trust him with completely. He adores Oz and they share a special bond, so I have no doubts over whether they would love and protect him just as we would." Dean doesn't say anything, he only exhales slowly, giving me a brief, tight-lipped smile before turning his attention back to the road.

The silence that follows is loaded but laced with a new understanding, a fragile truce between us. As we continue our drive, I can't shake the feeling that we're both teetering on the edge of something profound and terrifying; an unknown journey that will test not just our resolve, but our love and trust in each other. The comms machine crackles, breaking into the silence. I watch Dean as he reaches for it and pushes the button.

"Bravo two, this is Alpha one, do you copy?" He looks ahead at the car in front of us. "Bravo two, do you read me?" he repeats and the radio crackles in response. "Shit."

"What's wrong?" I ask as he flashes his headlights at the car in front of us as he slows his speed.

"We've lost communication." He mutters pushing the button on the radio, "Bravo two this is Alpha one, come in. Over." Dean waits a moment, staring at the SUV in front of us driving on, before switching the channel and trying again. "Base Command this is Alpha One, do you read me? Over." The radio crackles with white noise, no response. Dean's brows are pulled together tight as he fishes out his phone and sighs. "No signal."

"How can you lose communication?"

"Quite easily if there's a jammer in the vicinity," Dean explains and flashes his headlights in a sequence to the car in front and they indicate to pull over on the hard shoulder. "Wait here," Dean instructs, jumping out of the car. My eyes admire him as he walks away, feasting on those strong and burly muscles as he moves. The broadness of his back has the material of his jacket stretching around his shoulders.

Pain throbs at my temples, and I massage them in a desperate attempt to ease the tension. Through half-closed eyes, I watch Dean step out of the car and approach the driver's side of the vehicle in front of us. He points to our own car, clearly indicating that we have lost communication.

Just as I start to wonder what he's saying, a voice crackles through the radio, making me jump. It's Base Command, trying to reach us. I give the device a dirty look before rolling down the window.

"Dean, they're calling for you. The comms are working," I shout over the noise of the engine. He nods in acknowledgment but continues talking to the other driver. How much longer until we reach this elusive base? We've been driving for hours, and with every passing minute, my anxiety grows stronger. All I want is to hold my baby boy again. I miss him so much.

Finally, Dean lumbers back to the car and we continue on our seemingly endless journey, now that the communication is back online. My stomach grumbles in protest as I realize how long it has been since our last meal. As much as I hate to admit it, Dean was right, if I hadn't been caught sneaking into the trunk earlier, I may have suffocated back there. The cramped space and lack of air had been unbearable, but my stubbornness and determination to not be left behind had clouded my judgment.

In hindsight, it was a foolish idea, and I pray that the Air Force won't reprimand me for compromising the mission. The thought of facing consequences for my actions makes my heart race and palms sweat. After all, with my fiery temperament and inability to follow orders, I would surely not fare well in prison.

"JJ, please, I am begging you, stay put this time and try to stay out of trouble, all right?" Dean says, taking both my hands into his, those endless green eyes soft and pleading.

"I will," I vow giving his hand a gentle squeeze. I'm fighting with all my might to keep my tears at bay. I need him to stay focussed so he can save our son and come back home in one piece "And you better not go and die on me, you hear? I'll be waiting right here for you to come back home."

Dean nods and leans in to brush a kiss to my lips. "I will." My hands caress his cheeks and I kiss him back. "Go be brave, Captain." Dean smiles lovingly and kisses me once more before he steps away from me, taking his scent and his warmth with him.

"I'm crazy about you, baby."

A heavy sigh escapes my lips as I gaze at Dean, my heart overflowing with emotion. "I'm crazy about you," I confess, my voice filled with longing and love. Dean gives my hand one final squeeze, the warmth of his touch sending warm shivers down my spine, before my fingers reluctantly slip out of his as he walks away. I watch him as he disappears into the plane joining his squadron that are waiting inside. I watch as the plane inches onto the runway and takes off. As it disappears, the weight of his absence settles in my chest, and I'm choking on the lump that is clogging up my throat, a bittersweet ache that reminds me of just how crazy I am about him.

The comms room is colder than I expected. A sterile, humming place filled with blinking lights, screens, and the quiet murmur of operators talking into headsets. The walls seem to close in, pressing against my nerves, making the air feel thin. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to suppress the shiver that runs through me—not just from the cold, but from the fear gnawing at my insides.

I shouldn't be here. That's what everyone is thinking, the silent accusation in their eyes whenever they glance at me. But I can't just sit in some waiting room or huddle in a corner, counting the seconds and praying for news. I need to be here, to know what is happening, to hear Dean's voice and know he's still out there, still fighting for DJ and to stay alive.

"Are you sure about this?" a voice asks quietly, breaking through my thoughts. It's the operator who led me in, a young man with kind brown eyes that are now filled with concern. "It's not easy to listen in on these things."

"I'm sure," I reply, my voice steadier than I feel. "I have to be here. I need to know."

He nods, his expression softening. "Alright. If you need to step out at any point, just let me know."

I manage a small, tight smile of gratitude before turning back to the console in front of me. The headset feels foreign on my ears, the weight of it pressing down on me, making everything feel more real, more immediate. I can hear the faint crackle of static, the low murmur of voices, the distant thrum of helicopter blades through the speakers. And then, after what feels like an eternity, I hear him.

"This is Alpha One, approaching the target zone. ETA five minutes."

Dean's voice is calm, professional, the voice of a soldier in the middle of a mission. But I can hear the tension beneath it, the careful control he's exerting to keep his focus. My heart clenches, a painful squeeze that steals my breath for a moment. He's out there, so close to danger, so close to DJ, and I'm here, helpless, useless, just a pair of ears straining to catch every word, every hint of what is happening.

Lord, please, I am begging you bring my boys back to me safely.

"Roger, Alpha One. Maintain radio silence unless contact is made," comes the response from the command centre. The operator's voice is firm, practiced, a lifeline in the chaos.

The minutes stretch on, every second a tiny knife cutting into me, the waiting almost unbearable. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to picture where he is, what he's seeing, but all I can imagine is the worst; darkness, danger, the flicker of gunfire, and DJ's terrified face somewhere in the midst of it all.

And then, suddenly, the calm breaks.

"Alpha One, we've got visual on the target. Hostiles confirmed. Moving in."

My heart stops. I grip the edge of the console, knuckles white, my breath coming in shallow gasps. They're going in. Dean is going in. I can hear the faint sounds of movement, the rustle of gear, the low, clipped voices of his team as they prepare to breach whatever nightmare stands between them and my son.

"Keep it tight," Dean's voice comes through again, low and commanding. "No mistakes. We get in, we get my boy, you get out. Protect my son at all costs. Am I clear?"

You get out. Dean said you get out, not we . Jesus, what does that mean? What is he going to do?

"Copy that, Alpha One," one of his men reply. I can hear the tension in their voices too, the weight of what they are about to do hanging in the air like a storm cloud ready to explode.

And then the silence comes. But not just any kind, the kind of silence that is deafening, filled with the promise of violence, of things unseen and unknown. I want to scream, to shout at the radio, to demand that they tell me what was happening, but I know that will only make things worse. So, I stay quiet, biting down on my lip so hard I taste blood, forcing myself to listen, to wait and silently pray.

It feels like an eternity passes before the silence is shattered by a burst of static, followed by the harsh, chaotic sounds of a firefight. My breath catches in my throat, terror clawing at me as I hear the sharp crack of gunfire, the shouts of men, the heavy thuds of boots on concrete. I can hear Dean's voice cutting through the chaos, barking orders, keeping his team together, but I can't make out the words, can't tell if he is safe, if he is hurt, if DJ is…

"Alpha One, we have visual on the target with two hostiles in the northwest corner."

"Bravo Two, sit tight. I'm on my way." Dean says.

I don't realize I'm crying until I taste the salt on my lips, don't realize I have stopped breathing until my lungs scream for air. I gasp, a ragged, broken sound, relief flooding through me so violently it leaves me trembling uncontrollably. They found him. DJ is safe. "Hostiles have been neutralised. Command this is Alpha One, target has been secured. I repeat target has been secured!" Relief floods me when I hear DJ's cry. "Get him out of here," Dean's voice comes through again, still sharp, still focused, but I can hear the edge of desperation in it now, the fear he has been holding back. "Get him to the evac point. I'm going after Lukin."

The minutes that follow are a blur of motion and noise, the sounds of the team retreating, covering each other, the sounds of gunfire and screams for a medic or growing louder as it approached for extraction. I barely hear the commands, barely register the sounds of the battle fading into the background. All I can focus on is the fact that they have DJ, that Dean is still out there, that he is still fighting to bring our son back and come back home alive himself.

"Alpha One, this is Command. Extraction complete. Returning target to base."

I slump back in the chair, the tension finally breaking, leaving me exhausted and shaky.

"Jeyla, DJ is safe and on his way home to you." He knows I'm listening. My heart swells in my chest and I can no longer control my emotions as I start sobbing quietly into my hand.

I can almost see them in my mind's eye; Dean and his team, moving with precision through the dark corridors, their senses on high alert. My fingers dig into the edge of the console, my knuckles white. Come on, Dean. All I need now is for you to come home.

But then, there's a shift. A crack in the calm, a whisper of unease that sends a chill racing down my spine. "Hold up," Dean's voice cuts through the tension, laced with caution. My breath hitches. "Something's not right."

And then it happens—a flurry of motion, the shuffling of feet, the click of guns being raised. "Multiple hostiles, west corner," someone reports, and the cold grip of fear tightens around my throat. "We're surrounded."

It's so sudden, so brutally efficient, that it feels like the ground has been ripped out from under me.

"Grenade! Fall back!" Dean shouts, his voice sharp, commanding. "It's a trap! Fall back and take cover, now!" An ear splitting bang almost bursts my eardrum as it erupts through the headphones, causing anyone wearing one to throw them off to shield their ears. My ears ring so loud it's all I can hear for a good sixty seconds. I hate to think how it would have effected them out there being mere inches from it.

The words echo in my head, over and over, as chaos erupts in my ears. Hurriedly I pull the headphones back on and I'm immediately greeted with chaos. Gunfire—loud and deafening—drowns out everything else. My vision blurs as panic sets in, my heart slamming against my ribs.

The gunfire intensifies, and I hear the panic in Dean's voice, the way it cracks as he tries to hold his team together. But it's all falling apart, unravelling faster than I can process. My mind races, a thousand terrible thoughts colliding into a storm of terror. They're going to die. They're all going to die, and I'm powerless to do anything but sit here and listen to it all unfold. Dean was right, this is much, much worse.

After a while, suddenly, there's silence. A silence so profound that it roars in my ears, drowning out the sound of my own frantic breathing. The comms crackle with static, but there are no voices, no shouts, no gunfire. Just… nothing.

"Dean?" I whisper, my voice trembling. "Dean, please… say something…" I know he can't hear me. We all wait with bated breaths for some sort of noise. Command centre is trying to make contact with the team but we get no response. I'm on my feet, my hands pressed to my mouth trying to smother the scream I can feel building inside me.

Please, please, don't be dead. Please don't be dead...

After a long stretch of silence, there's a voice. But not Dean's. A voice that's cold, cruel, dripping with venom. "Well, Captain Dean Reyes. We meet again." The room tilts, the walls closing in on me. No. No, no, no, this can't be happening. My hands are shaking so violently that I nearly drop the headset.

But Dean's voice comes through, strained, struggling. "Lukin."

I hear the shuffle of boots, the rustle of clothing, and then a thump like someone has tossed a sack on the floor. They've got him. They've captured Dean. I'm frozen, paralyzed with terror, unable to do anything but listen.

"You took your time, I've been leaving crumbs for you to follow all over the place."

"I wasn't aware that you missed me that much, Lukin. Well, I'm here now, let's finish this," Dean utters through gritted teeth.

"No…" I whimper. Dean what the fuck are you doing?

"Finish? We're only just getting started. I must say, that boy of yours is an absolute angel. Nothing like you at all, he must take after your lovely wife. We loved having him here, didn't we boys?" There's a murmur of voices that filter through the headphones. "Lucky for you I don't believe in harming children, or I would have sent his tiny little limbs to you one at a time for every million you cost me." Lukin states, his voice dripping in malice. My stomach drops and a sheen of cold sweat forms on my forehead as I visualise his horrifying threat in my head. "But your wife on the other hand…"

"Leave my wife out of this!" Dean growls irately. "You wanted me. Here I am. You can do whatever you want to me, but you leave my family alone. They have nothing to do with this."

"Neither did my brother, but you shot him in cold blood anyway, didn't you?" Lukin states, his tone ice cold. And then I hear another thump that sounds a horrifyingly lot like a punch and a groan from Dean. "He was just a kid, you piece of shit!"

"I wasn't aiming at your brother, that bullet was intended for you," Dean replies, his voice strained. "Your brother jumped in front of it to protect you. I didn't intentionally kill your brother. If anyone is responsible for his death, it's you for involving him in your shady business in the first place."

"Shut the fuck up!" Another distinctive ‘thwack' sound emanates from the headpiece followed by a thump when Dean likely hits the floor, and my chest tightens with panic. I think I'm going to throw up. I can't bear to listen to them assaulting him, but my heart refuses to remove the headset and leave the room.

Tears pour down my face, the salty water streaming like a river over my cheeks. The muffled sounds around me merge together, a cacophony of voices and whispers that I can't quite make out until I hear a familiar name; my own. My heart clenches in fear as I realize what is happening.

"I don't plan to kill you, Dean," Lukin sneers, sending shivers down my spine. "Not right away, anyway. That wouldn't satisfy me. I have had a long time to think of all the ways I can make you suffer. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be begging for death." His tone shifts to one of pure elation. "First," he continues, sadistic pleasure evident in every word, "you and I are going to have a little fun. I'm going to break every single one of your ribs while my guys go off to find your pretty wife. I was going to spare her, but I can't stop thinking about how good her mouth would look wrapped around my big Russian cock." All the eyes in the room turn to look at me while I stare at the device sitting in front of me in horror.

I hear a deep sardonic laugh come from Dean. "You want to break my ribs, fucking go for it, but you're not touching my wife. Do you really think I haven't taken every precaution possible to protect her from you? Even if you did find her, she would bite that pencil you call a dick and spit it right back in your face, you ugly fuck."

This time Lukin laughs, "You continue to underestimate me, Dean. You seem to forget that I like to think two steps ahead of everyone else. I already know that your wife is at the airbase not even ten miles from here. I also know that…" he trails off and then I hear his voice like he's speaking directly into my ear and it chills me to my core, "she's listening in right now." The words barely leave his mouth before I hear a loud crunch and a pain-filled cry. Fucking hell. Did Dean just headbutt him and break his nose?

"Yebat!" Lukin spits out in what sounds like Russian. Deep down, I can't help but feel a sense of delight that Dean has inflicted some physical pain on the man who has caused us both so much suffering. If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have lost an entire year. I wouldn't have gone through all that pain thinking I'd lost him, and Dean would have been around to see his son be born. That raging fire of resentment in my heart for this man will never die out.

"That's for thinking about my wife," Dean hisses. "It's the closest you'll ever get to her, you prick. Go ahead, shoot me now while you've still got the chance because if I make it out of these restraints, I'm going to rip your fucking throat out and shove it straight up your arse."

No, Dean fucking stop, what are you doing? Why are you goading him? You're going to get yourself killed. You need to stay alive God damnit!

"Your attempts to intimidate me are futile, Reyes. It's almost amusing that you think you have the power to take me down. Are you forgetting who you're talking to?"

"You conceited son of a bitch. You think you're more powerful than the United Kingdom's Armed Forces? Oh, I'm going to take great satisfaction in wiping that arrogant smirk off your face. I don't care what it costs me, I am going to end you."

"And how do you plan on doing that when you'll be buried alive six feet under, dying a slow and punishing death, hm?"

"Let me out of these restraints and I'll gladly demonstrate how or is the great Viktor Lukin afraid of one measly soldier? Are you afraid that I will make good on my threat and drop you like a bad habit? Because let's face it, you're nothing without your goons back there protecting you." Dean states with a deep anger filled chuckle. "I just broke your nose with my hands tied behind my back. You don't even want to imagine the damage I can inflict if my hands and feet were untied."

My eyes close and I'm desperately trying to keep my emotions in check. I'm shaking from head to toe with trepidation. What the hell is going on? Why is no one busting in there to save Dean?

"I would save your breath if I were you, Dean. You're going to need to conserve every last drop for when I'm siphoning the life right out of you. Now, any final words for your dear wife before I gouge your eyes out and post them to her as keepsakes?"

I shake my head, and it feels like my throat is closing. "No..."

"I'll see you on the other side, baby girl. I love you." I know Dean is trying to keep the fear out of his voice, but I hear the tremble when he utters those final words.

Tears fill my eyes and when the communication cuts off and all that can be heard is static, I let out an ear-splitting cry and crumble to my knees. "No! Dean!"