Page 65

No, the power was still on.
She tugged at her restraint, desperate to break free. This could be her chance.
An engine screamed. Her breath caught in her throat.
The wall on the far side of the room buckled, exploding inward in a shower of concrete and metal. She ducked her head, shielding her face from the flying debris as ice and snow blew in through the gaping hole.
As the dust settled, her eyes widened at the sight of a blue snowmobile nose protruding through the opening. It teetered for a moment before crashing down onto the floor. Its engine sputtered, then quit.
A black-clad figure slipped in through the hole, moving with a familiar grace that sent her heart soaring.
Fenn.
Elation surged through her, a wild hope that this nightmare might finally be over. She yanked at the bed frame with renewed determination, the metal creaking under the strain.
But her joy was short-lived. From behind her, a dented, old locker toppled forward with a deafening clang. She whipped her head around, her eyes widening in horror as Hawk emerged from the gaping crack in the ice wall.
Behind the goggles, his eyes blazed with a cold, calculated rage.
He lunged for her, his movements lightning-fast. Before Kate could react, he grabbed her by the collar, pulling her in front of him like a human shield. The cold metal of a pistol pressed against her temple, and she could feel the heat of his breath on the back of her neck.
Across the room, Fenn staggered to his feet, his movements unsteady. Kate’s heart clenched at the sight of him, battered and bruised but still standing. Still fighting.
Hawk aimed the gun at Fenn, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Kate’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. She had to do something, had to give Fenn a chance. With a desperate cry, she yanked on the cuff with all her strength, the metal cutting into her wrist. “Fenn, look out!”
The gun discharged, the sound deafening in the confined space. Kate watched in horror as the shot lifted Fenn off his feet,sending him crashing back on top of the snowmobile. His body went limp. The world stopped.
Fenn. No.
A second gun discharged, the sound reverberating dully through her damaged ears.
Hawk cursed, falling away from her with a grunt, his weight pulling her down on top of him. Her arm—still cuffed to the bed—wrenched her shoulder out of its socket. White-hot pain speared through her body.
She gasped, tears stinging her eyes as terror gripped her heart. The stench of gunpowder, sharp and hot and acrid, filled her lungs.
Fenn.
He wasn’t moving.
No. No, no, no.
41
Through a haze of pain,Kate saw another figure fly through the opening the snowmobile had made. Even in her distress, she could tell the man moved like a trained operative. He crouched next to Fenn, and miracle of miracles, helped him to his feet.
Dear, Sweet Jesus, thank you.Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
She muttered the short prayer over and over and over.
An instant later, Tai and Graham and Mason and the team burst through the gash, their ARs at the ready. Tai and Graham flanked the scene, their eyes scanning for threats, while Mason continued forward, stalking into the room with his M4 in firing position.
“You good?” he asked as he headed past her toward the gash Hawk had burst through.
Kate could only nod, her throat tight with emotion. Fenn’s tactical vest. Hawk had miscalculated.
But what about Hawk?