Page 176 of Enemy of My Enemy

“Of course you could fly this. You are not incapable. But we cannotloseyou, Sasha.” Sergey threw his arms wide. “You cannot throw your life away! Everyone here needs you!”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Jack knew it. Sasha’s eyes narrowed, and the hurt that had been lingering on the edges flared and then vanished, extinguished in raw anger. “I would help everyone more by finding out what Madigan is doing up there. I would happily give my life as a hero to Russia. I would die for my country, for Mother Russia, and foryou!”

Purple rage built in Sergey’s expression, his thin-pressed lips trembling. His dark eyes were fixed on Sasha’s, holding like a falcon on the hunt.

“I will not allow you to die,” Sergey growled. “I will not allow it!”

Sasha snapped something in Russian. Jack made his retreat.

* * *

Inside the map room,Sergey’s chase after Jack and Sasha left Scott and Ethan alone together at last. Scott fiddled with a broken pencil from the table, flicking it against his palm as he pursed his lips. He finally looked up, catching Ethan’s glare.

Ethan sat stock-still, a furious scowl etched on his face.

Scott tossed the pencil on the table and spread his hands wide. “What do you want from me, Ethan? He was bound and determined to come after you. He was going to chase you around the globe. Did you want me to let him go alone?”

“How about you talk some sense into him? He’s thrown everything he ever worked for away! Everything he had!”

“You don’t think I tried?”

“Lock him in the White House, then!”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Do you remember how you were after Ethiopia? How crazed and single-minded you were? That’s him, right now.” Scott held out two fingers. “He’s got his mind focused on two things and only two things: finding you and killing Madigan.”

“He’s not a soldier!” Ethan cried. His side pulled, and he winced, his hand flying to cover his stitches. “This isn’t where he’s supposed to be!”

“But heisright about one thing, Ethan. Madigan targetedhimand targetedyou.Personally. He’s coming after the both of you, and as long as you both are off the grid, Madigan’s attention is elsewhere.”

“So put him in a bunker, or a safe house, or something! But send him toRussia? To awar zone?”

“I don’t want to admit it, but… Jack is right. This is the one thing Madigan won’t ever see coming. We have to think more like him. Act more like him. And this is the first step.”

Fury still crackled in Ethan’s veins. It was too dangerous, far too dangerous, and no matter how much he wanted Jack by his side again, this was not the way he’d imagined it.

“He held his own in Sochi and he did good getting over here.” Scott was trying to placate him. “You did good with him at Rowley. He’s a good shot.”

Ethan scowled.

“Kept a cool head, too. Let me tell you about the human smugglers who duct-taped him and shoved him in a box.”

Ethan’s palm hit the table, slapping the surface. The sound cut through the air.

“You know, maybe if you hadn’t run off half-cocked on a suicide mission, he wouldn’t have had to chase you.”

Ethan looked away. “I lost everything, Scott. Everything. Twice in one week.” He coughed, wincing again at the pain flaring from his stitches. “Honestly? I’m not even sure this is all real. Maybe Iamdead and this is my fucked-up version of hell.”

Scott frowned.

“Is this my punishment? I get him back, but I just get to see him die out here? Feel like this over and over and over?” The grinding, endless grief, the void that used to hold his heart. Endless, endless rage.

Scott stared at him like he’d lost his mind. He scooted his rickety metal chair toward Ethan, the legs scraping over the concrete bunker floor. He dug in his jacket pocket. “You’re fucking alive, Ethan. And it’s a good Goddamn thing, too, ’cause he would have lost it if we were too late. Look, you didn’t see him lose his fucking mind over you. He’s been an absolute shell of himself until we found you here. Youhaveto know, Ethan: back in DC, when he still thought that thing was his wife? He choseyou. He choseyouover her. No, no, don’t do that.” Scott slapped Ethan’s cheek.

Ethan’s eyes blazed. He wanted to snarl, but his throat had closed and his heart was trying to decide what to do. Ache, or finally start beating again? Before he’d opened his eyes and saw Jack above him as his side was stitched closed, he’d last seen Jack walking out on him. Choosing Leslie over him. Choosing his undead wife, in a moment, over what they had built together.

It was a hurt that had festered, a wound that went soul-deep.

Jack appearing in the Russian wilderness, confessing his love and cradling Ethan close was a nice dream, but it came after the exposure of what Leslie actually was.