Page 55 of Echos and Empires (After #3)
TWENTY-SIX
They gathered around the crates stacked three-high to act as a makeshift table, creating something like a circle of resolve, with the dim light casting sharp shadows across their faces.
Maps lay strewn like discarded hopes. Chris’s voice cut through the silence with the precision of a scalpel.
“We have one chance,” he said, eyes like dark fire.
“The island’s installations, they’re key to Victor’s empire—the throat of a beast if you will.
” Chris winced at the analogy with Emma present, but true to her character, she didn’t flinch.
“Storehouses. Communication towers. The clinic. His home that we now know sits nesteled just a few miles away. All things we need to hit and take down. I’d prefer we leave the clinic for last, only attacking if the other hits fail. ”
Anticipation pressed against him like the humidity in the air, thick and demanding.
Emma’s voice rose above the tension, a note of fierce urgency. “We need to show him we’re not afraid,” she insisted, hazel eyes blazing. Her determination was a contagion, sweeping the room and infecting every breath. She insisted she would be fine on her own, and all five of them would go.
Chris absorbed it, re-channeling it into the cold focus that was their lifeline. “We don’t get second chances,” he warned, drilling the need for coordination into every word, the room pulsing with the beat of a countdown.
The heat hung in the air, stagnant and oppressive, a reminder of how far they were from comfort and safety.
The weight of responsibility like a physical presence, every eye in the room fixed on him.
Bash stood with arms crossed, muscles coiled like steel beneath his shirt, his buzz cut casting a stark shadow on the wall.
Liam leaned against the table, glasses reflecting the room’s light like a beacon, a smirk hovering on his lips even now.
Will listened with an intensity that bordered on obsession, blue eyes cold and bright.
Alex lounged in his chair, but Chris saw the tension in his jaw, the tight line of his shoulders.
Emma stood closest to Chris, her presence a vivid reminder of what they were risking, what they had to gain.
“The supply depot is the first step,” Chris began, sweeping a hand over the map.
“It’ll cripple his resources, but it has to be quick.
Bash, William—you’ll create the diversion.
We need it loud and chaotic. Liam and I will take the targets on the side.
” His voice carried the weight of command, a mantle he wore with grim determination.
William nodded, the darkness in his eyes the reminder that he wouldn’t fail again. “Won’t know what hit them,” he said, the quiet confidence in his voice a testament to how much he’d grown.
Bash uncrossed his arms, a fierce light in his green eyes. “About time we hit back,” he said, words clipped and full of promise.
Chris continued, “Once they’re in disarray, Alex, you and Liam hit the radio room tomorrow with a small group. You’ve got the skills to tear it down.”
Alex’s smirk widened, a flash of recklessness in his hazel eyes. “I’ll dismantle it before they know we’re there.”
Liam ran a hand through his hair, a gleam of excitement cutting through his usually cool demeanor. “Think they’ll catch on we’re hitting everything?”
Chris shook his head, his expression a mixture of calculation and certainty. “They’ll be scrambling. And we’ll be gone.”
Emma’s voice broke through again, sharp with urgency. “We have to be faster than them. We need to strike before they can regroup.”
Her insistence hit Chris like a physical force. He knew she was worried, but she needed to calm down and accept that he also knew the risks. “We’ve got one shot, Emma. We can’t waste it.”
She looked at him, unwavering. “Then we make sure we don’t. Victor needs to know we’re not afraid, Chris. We go in with everything.”
Chris felt the others shifting, her determination fueling their resolve. It was contagious, a fire that burned away caution. He was the leader, but Emma was their heart, and he felt the balance of their power shift under the weight of her conviction.
“You’ll be alone, Emma,” he said, the warning in his voice unable to mask the fear the idea sent through him.
She met his gaze, unflinching. “I’ve been alone before.”
The cave fell silent, the finality of her words resonating with the depth of what lay ahead. Chris looked at each of them, the people who were his family now, bound by more than blood. He saw their resolve mirrored in his own, the certainty that they wouldn’t back down.
“Alright,” he said, voice firm with acceptance. “If I’ve learned anything it’s that you are the woman we found surviving on her own for three years. While it’s hard for us, you don’t need our protection the way we want to protect you.”
“I will always need you all. All of you. But right now that need means ensuring we win and our babies have the safe haven they deserve to grow up in.”
In any other moment, he would have swept her into his arms and showed her how much he agreed. This moment was not the time. “We move as planned. Every hit has to count.”
“Bash, you’ll take a group and spread out, making certain no one gets too close to the cave while everyone is out. Ten people, no more. We can’t really have that many, but I want Emma protected.
“As you command,” Bash’s gaze was that of a man Chris thought long dead, a man who was going to throw it all away to protect the woman if someone didn’t stop him.
But Chris wouldn’t stop him this time.
The air was charged, a live wire humming with anticipation.
Chris knew the risks, knew the cost if they failed.
But he also knew they didn’t have a choice.
They had to move, had to strike, had to let Victor feel the sharp edge of their rebellion.
Emma was right. They needed to show him they weren’t afraid.
Chris let the map roll back on itself, covering the lines of their strategy like a shroud. “All right then, there’s nothing left but for us to start. Tonight it’s all of us. Then we split as just discussed. Then, we come home to Emma and our babies.”
As they filed out, he watched them, each step taking them closer to the edge of everything.
Emma watched as they left, her eyes locking with his and holding a promise in her eyes as she looked back at him.
He felt the tension settle into his bones, a reminder that they were fighting for their lives, for their future.
They didn’t get second chances. But if they played this right, they wouldn’t need one.
Chris led them through the jungle like ghosts, every step a whisper in the thick tropical air.
It was as if the air itself were watching them, dense and full of warning, wrapping around their limbs like a living thing.
Sweat trickled down his back, its path a reminder of how close they were to spilling blood.
They’d regrouped with the people who’d volunteered the day before, twenty of them. More than enough to carry the supplies they needed to harm Victor and help the resistance.
Their movements were silent and purposeful, a choreography of discipline.
Bash kept pace beside him, blue eyes sharp behind his glasses, the navigator’s mind mapping their course with instinctive ease.
Bash moved with a predator’s grace, every step full of promise and threat.
William’s intensity was a beacon, drawing them toward their goal with unwavering focus.
Alex was their shadow, slipping through the jungle like smoke, leaving no trace but the weight of his presence.
Liam to his left was going to vanish with Alex soon enough as they split up into different missions and Chris would be without his right hand.
The heat pressed against them, thick and unyielding, as if the island itself conspired with Victor to resist them.
It coated their skin in a sheen of sweat, made every breath an effort, every step a testament to endurance.
The burden of command tried to drown him as it always did, but Emma’s determination pushed him forward, a constant echo in his mind.
The jungle opened up ahead, a clearing in the dense weave of green and shadow.
Chris signaled a halt, his senses reaching out to test the edges of their silent world.
The meeting place. A thin line between ambush and victory, between death and a heartbeat’s chance.
His hand hovered over his weapon, a gesture of readiness, of inevitability.
Alex’s voice cut through like a blade. “Looks quiet.”
Chris gave a grim nod, eyes locked on the clearing. “Too quiet.”
He felt the others shift, the certainty of what lay ahead pulling them taut.
Seconds stretched, brittle and tense, and then the jungle exploded with motion.
Figures emerged from the clearing, twenty men moving with practiced speed, the opening salvo of Victor’s resistance.
The trap had been set, and now it was sprung.
Chris’s focus sharpened to a lethal edge, every move calculated, every thought a plan within a plan.
He signaled his team, the urgency of the moment igniting their practiced instincts.
They moved with the precision of a well-oiled machine, fanning out to meet the threat with controlled force.
No room for error, no time for hesitation.
Bash and William pushed forward, a wall of aggression that drew Victor’s men like moths to flame.
Chris watched the diversion unfold, saw the chaos take root in their enemy’s ranks.
The men scrambled, voices urgent and commanding as they tried to regroup, to respond, to survive.
Chris knew the pattern well; he had drilled it into his own team a hundred times.