Page 45 of Echos and Empires (After #3)

They tore through the equipment room, gathering weapons, supplies, anything they might need.

Things they’d stockpiled off the truck before boarding the boat and had yet to give up.

Bash moved with an intensity that bordered on desperation.

He couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop. Every second wasted was a second closer to losing everything.

It was too much like the last time, the sudden upheaval, the violence.

The world narrowed to just them against everyone else.

They were outnumbered, outgunned, but Bash pushed that aside.

He focused on what they could control, what they could do.

He packed everything with military precision, channeling his frustration into action.

Beside him, Chris was a blur of motion, unyielding and composed.

“We have to move fast,” Chris said, shoving extra ammo into a bag. He slammed a drawer shut, the sound sharp in the small room. Chris barely glanced up. “Liam and Alex pack,” Chris continued, “Keep Emma safe.”

Bash clenched his jaw, the thought of uprooting everyone setting him on edge.

This was supposed to be their haven. A place they could breathe.

The thought of abandoning it left him raw and angry, a storm ready to break.

And the rage wouldn’t leave him alone. It curled inside, feeding off his fear and frustration, leaving him simmering, volatile.

They had tried so hard to settle, and now it was crumbling.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, violent and erratic.

Bash shouldered the last of the gear, hands shaking with fury.

The idea of going back out there, of returning to the life they’d thought they’d left behind, was nearly unbearable.

Especially after the reminder of the comforts they had.

This hadn’t been the plan. This wasn’t how things ended.

His thoughts flashed to William, and the resentment bubbled up, scalding and raw.

They were supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be together.

He glared at the bags, at the reminder of what they had to do.

His internal struggle was a fierce, relentless thing, and he channeled it into determination, into action.

He turned to Chris, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

This was going to be brutal, but they’d get through it.

They’d get William, and they’d come back.

The thought brought a flicker of control, a hint of the old confidence.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

Bash’s breath came hard and fast, and he met Chris’s gaze with a fierce, volatile resolve.

“Let’s go,” Bash said, his voice rough, edged with the anger and desperation he couldn’t shake.

Chris nodded, and they set out, their future uncertain, but their commitment to each other solid and unwavering.

The darkness was their accomplice. It concealed their movements, letting them become part of the shadows as Bash and Chris crept closer to the old security building.

Bash’s pulse matched the rhythm of their footsteps, a steady beat that drowned out everything else.

They crouched low, senses on high alert as they approached.

There was tension in every step, a coiled anticipation that thrummed through Bash with a volatile energy.

He and Chris avoided guards with military precision, eyes scanning the perimeter for the best point of entry.

They couldn’t fuck this up. Not now, when they were so close.

Every breath was too loud in the night, dangerous if they got too close to anyone else.

The building loomed ahead, a dark fortress against the sky.

Bash moved like a ghost, silent and determined, his focus honed razor-sharp on their mission.

Chris was a shadow at his side, steady and strategic.

Together, they were a perfect machine, years of experience guiding their movements, making them seamless and efficient.

The night swallowed them whole, and Bash let it.

He let the urgency consume him, let it drive him forward, his heartbeat a relentless drum in his chest.

There were guards there now. So it wasn’t just a handful of supposed friends he’d have to put down tonight to get to his brother. There were dozens if the eight standing guard were any indication. Dozens he would kill and ask for forgiveness for later if it saved William.

The men patrolled with practiced ease, unaware of the intruders moving like whispers through the dark.

Bash’s nerves were a live wire, crackling with anticipation, with fear.

He ignored the doubt that lurked beneath his bravado, the doubt that they wouldn’t make it, that they’d leave with nothing but regret.

He couldn’t let it paralyze him. He wouldn’t.

Bash pushed the thoughts aside and focused on their path.

Each step brought them closer to the center of the compound.

Closer to William.

They reached the building’s edge, where lights cast eerie shadows that stretched and shifted with the slightest breeze.

Bash could see the intensity in Chris’s eyes, could feel it mirrored in his own.

This was it. Their make-or-break moment.

Bash exhaled slowly, steadied his resolve, and nodded at Chris.

They were ready. They slipped inside, their movements synchronized and silent, every instinct tuned to their surroundings.

It was too much like the last time, the familiarity gnawing at Bash as they navigated the maze of hallways and rooms.

They made it inside the area without alerting anyone, a minor victory in the midst of an impossible situation.

Bash’s confidence surged, fueled by adrenaline and desperation.

It was short-lived. An alarm split the air, a blaring, discordant sound that shattered their stealth and echoed off the compound walls.

“Fuck,” Bash muttered, his heart plummeting with the noise.

It was happening too fast. Chaos erupted, the quiet of the night replaced by the frenetic energy of guards converging from all directions.

Chris shoved Bash forward, urging him deeper into the labyrinthine corridors of the facility, their objective painfully close.

Urgency blazed within Bash, a wildfire licking at his insides, driving him onward.

As they pressed on, guards in dark uniforms surged into the narrow passageways, weapons brandished and eyes hard with intent.

The air was electric with tension, and the clash that followed was fierce and unyielding.

Bash and Chris moved together without a word, a seamless blend of precision and power, carving their path through the chaos.

Bash’s aggression was a living thing, fueled by a seething anger and a fierce determination to succeed.

His fists flew with a speed that blurred the air, his focus laser-sharp, zeroed in on the immediate threats before him.

There was no space in his mind for fear or hesitation—only raw, instinctual action.

The violence roiled within Bash, an old ally he both despised and welcomed, rising to meet the challenge with a familiar, primal force.

Each second stretched, steeped in desperation, but Bash was unyielding, driven by an indomitable will.

His thoughts were a whirlwind, a tempest of resolve and rage, as he navigated the maelstrom of his own making.

Trapped in a living nightmare, he saw only one path to salvation, fight his way through the storm.

Flashes of memory assaulted him, ghosts from his past that came unbidden and unwelcome.

Tests. Experiments. A place too much like this one.

Bash shook his head, tried to clear the visions that threatened to overtake him.

He couldn’t lose focus. Not now. But the memories wouldn’t leave him alone, and the violence simmered beneath the surface, a boiling, volatile force that pushed him past his limits.

Bash was breathing hard, fists bruised and bloodied, but he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop.

The farther they pushed into the building, the stronger his memories became.

A barrage of images that clung to him, relentless and cruel.

Bash forced them back, locked them away, but they were never gone.

He acted on instinct, raw and primal, his past an unshakeable shadow.

Each movement, each takedown brought him closer to the edge, closer to the version of himself he couldn’t stand to face.

But it also brought them closer to William. And that was all that mattered.

Determination mingled with his fear, creating a volatile mix that propelled him forward.

He was a storm of aggression, a whirlwind of violence.

It left him unsettled and raw, but he didn’t care.

He would fight until there was nothing left, and then he’d fight some more.

The compound was a symphony of chaos, alarms blaring, guards shouting.

But Bash was singular in his focus, a force of nature that refused to be contained.

He watched the destruction with shaking hands and an unsettled heart, but he never wavered.

He couldn’t. Not when William was so close.

The chaos they invaded and created was a living thing, wrapping around Bash, sinking its claws in deep.

Bash fought past his own demons as guards filed in from every direction, guns drawn and eyes cold.

Instinct overtook him, and he snatched a weapon from a downed man, the weight of it grounding him in the present fight.

His finger found the trigger, and he let loose, a barrage of bullets cutting through the air.

He was a machine of destruction, each shot echoing with desperation and rage.

His world narrowed to the immediate targets, the ones that stood between him and William.