Page 153 of Enemy Within

Harsh pants, their heavy breathing, and deep grunts filled the air. Jack leaned forward, both hands circling Madigan’s throat. Madigan’s one hand rose, scratching at Jack’s face, trying to gouge out one of his eyeballs. Tried to claw across his cheek.

Jack shook him off. His hands squeezed, strangling Madigan. Madigan gagged.

“Jack… You can never be free of me,” Madigan croaked. His one arm grasped at Jack’s sweatshirt—Ethan’s sweatshirt—and tried to pull him down.

He leaned all his weight onto his left hand and reared back with his right. He let loose, a single punch flying down, slamming Madigan’s skull into the ice. “That is for Leslie!” he shouted.

Another punch, heaving Madigan against the ice once more. Bones crunched. Madigan’s eyes went wide. Blood appeared beneath Madigan’s skull, slowly spreading like a halo. Dazed, Madigan struggled, but his grip went slack on Jack’s sweatshirt as his strength seemed to wane. “That is for Ethan!” Jack roared.

He dropped his hands Madigan’s throat again, tightening, clenching until his arms shook and he felt each bone shift in Madigan’s neck. Felt the fragility of his spine.

He stared into Madigan’s eyes, into his dark, panicked gaze. Madigan’s one hand grasped at Jack’s sweatshirt, at his shoulder, flailed against his chest.

“And this is for me...” Jack twisted, wrenching his hands sideways. A brutal snap broke over the ice, and Madigan’s expression went blank, his eyes suddenly empty.

Jack pitched forward, curling his body over Madigan’s. For a moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

And then he howled, spit and blood pouring from him. His cheek pressed against the glacier, freezing him down to the center of his soul. What had he done? God, what had he done?

Ethan’s voice filled him, flooded his heart.You did what you had to do. What had to be done.

Still, he scrambled back, crawling away from Madigan’s limp and lifeless body. He stared at the corpse of the man who had shadowed his every move, had shredded his presidency, and had shaped his life in ways he could only pretend to understand. What in his life was his own? What had Madigan shaped?

His eyes closed, and he tipped his head back. Ethan. Ethan was his own. Ethan was the foundation of his world, the anchor to his soul. Ethan was the answer to a question he’d always asked, and always wondered. Ethan was everything.

He turned his back on Madigan and stumbled away.

Across the ice, Sergey pushed himself up, rising on shaking arms.

Jack broke into a run. “Sergey!”

He slid on his knees the last feet, grabbing on to Sergey as he came to a stop. He ran his hands over Sergey’s body, and then found the gunshot wound straight through Sergey’s shoulder.

“I am all right. Is just a graze.” Sergey snapped. “Is always this shoulder.” Gritting his teeth, he sat back, groaning. “Always, always, this shoulder. Shoot me in the other shoulder, please. I am tired of this one hurting!”

Jack laughed, relief going off like a warhead inside him. “I’ll shoot you if it will make you happy.”

“Govno, no, fuck off.” Sergey shoved him. “You are nothing but trouble.” He wagged his finger in Jack’s face. “Nothing but trouble, Jack!”

“Ethan says the same thing.”

Sergey snorted. “I bet he does.” Jack helped him stand, throwing Sergey’s arm over his shoulder.

Together, they limped to Madigan’s snowmobile. “You know, we have matching gunshot wounds in our shoulders now.”

Sergey snorted. “Gunshot wounds to make us BFFs, Jack?”

Jack started to respond, but his eyes caught on Madigan’s corpse. Whatever he was about to say fell away.

Sergey stared at Madigan’s broken body, splayed out on the ice. “You did the right thing, Jack.” He pressed his cold lips to Jack’s temple, a careful kiss. “You did the right thing.”

Swallowing, Jack looked away from Madigan’s body and guided them to the snowmobile. “Did we do it? Did we actually stop Madigan in time? Save the world?”

Sergey peered at the sky. “I see no flame. No end of the world.” He opened his mouth, and then froze. He turned to the sky again. “What is that…”

They both turned north, watching as wave after wave of planes, fighter jets, heavy helicopters, and troop transports zoomed over the ice, low enough to blow them off their feet.

“They are Russian!” Sergey shouted. “They are Russian forces!”