Page 28

T he vehicle hummed around me, its engine a steady counterpoint to my racing heart. From my position in the rear passenger seat, I had a clear view of the Mill through night-vision binoculars. A hulking monstrosity of rusted steel and broken windows, silhouetted against clouds pregnant with an approaching storm. Somewhere inside that crumbling industrial cathedral, Xavier was facing Felix Burns alone.

And I could do nothing but watch.

My stomach twisted into a painful knot, acid burning up my throat as I struggled to maintain my composure. Last night's desperate lovemaking flashed through my mind. Xavier directing every movement of my body as I entered him, his voice low and commanding in my ear as he instructed me exactly how to please him. The way his fingers had dug into my hips, controlling my pace, my depth, demanding my complete submission even as I physically topped him.

I checked my equipment for the twelfth time in as many minutes. Communications array. Satellite uplink. Thermal imaging interface. Everything operational, everything perfect. And utterly useless with Xavier's comm link suddenly dead.

"Still nothing?" Commander Reid asked from the driver's seat, eyes never leaving the mill's main entrance.

"No," I replied, fighting to keep my voice professional despite the panic clawing at my throat. "Signal dropped exactly seven minutes ago. Complete blackout."

"Jammers," Reid concluded, lips thinning into a grim line. "Burns is isolating him."

The realization sat like ice in my veins. My chest constricted so tightly I could barely draw breath. Phoenix had anticipated our communications setup. Had planned for it. Had neutralized our primary advantage before Xavier had even stepped through the door.

I switched frequencies again, fingers flying across the keyboard with desperate skill. "X, do you copy? Xavier? Respond on any channel."

Nothing but static hissed through my headphones, the sound like acid eating through my composure. We'd tested the equipment thoroughly before departure. Triple redundancies. Multiple channels. Emergency protocols. Everything had worked flawlessly during the approach.

Until it didn't.

"How long has he been inside?" I asked, unable to keep the edge from my voice.

"Twelve minutes, forty-seven seconds," Reid replied immediately. His training showing in the exactness of his response. "We'll initiate extraction protocols at the thirty-minute mark if we haven't reestablished contact."

Thirty minutes. An eternity when every second could mean the difference between life and death. My fingers tightened around the binoculars until the hard plastic bit into my skin, the pain a welcome distraction from the suffocating fear threatening to overwhelm me. I tasted copper. I'd bitten the inside of my cheek without realizing it.

Through the lenses, I could see Lieutenant Dawson's team positioned at strategic points around the perimeter, their forms ghostly green in night vision. Maxime stood rigid at the designated exchange point, a solitary figure whose rigid posture couldn't disguise the tension running through him.

I lowered the binoculars, focusing instead on the communications array. There had to be a way to cut through the interference. The familiar problem gave my racing mind something to latch onto. Patterns and frequencies instead of the image of Xavier lying bloodied and broken on a concrete floor.

A memory flashed through my mind. Xavier's hands on my throat, thumbs pressing into my pulse points as he'd whispered, "No one takes what's mine." The possessive hunger in his eyes when he'd marked my skin with bruises that I still carried. The demanding press of his fingers guiding my movements as I entered him, a reminder that even with me inside him, he owned every part of me, controlled every motion. The man who had shown me a darkness in myself I hadn't known existed until him.

I closed my eyes, seeking that darkness now, that cold analytical place that allowed me to function under unimaginable pressure. I remembered the first time I'd found it. During a firefight at the Junkyard Dogs compound when a rival mercenary group had ambushed us. I'd maintained the security systems while bullets pinged off the trailer walls around me, my hands steady even as chaos erupted outside. I was never a combat soldier, but Wattson had taught me well how to keep my head in a crisis.

Hail Mary, full of grace... The prayer rose unbidden, my abuela's voice echoing in my head. Once, I'd believed these prayers might save my soul. Now, I prayed they might save the man who had claimed that soul as his own.

"There's something wrong with the thermal readings," I said, frowning at the display. "The signatures we detected earlier... they're not moving like people should."

Reid glanced back at me, the movement sharp with sudden alert. "Meaning?"

"The heat sources are too stable. Too consistent." I pulled up the recorded data from our initial scan, comparing it to the current readings. "Human thermal signatures fluctuate. Blood flow, movement, respiration. These are... static."

A chill ran through me as realization dawned, my throat closing as if invisible hands were strangling me. "They're not people. They're devices."

"What kind of devices?" Reid asked, already reaching for his weapon.

The answer crystallized in my mind with horrifying clarity. "Incendiary packages. Has to be. The heat signature is consistent with military-grade accelerants in standby mode."

Reid was already keying his radio, voice tight with controlled urgency. "Dawson, we've got a situation. Astrada says the thermal signatures aren't hostiles. They're incendiaries. Burns has rigged the building."

The radio crackled. "Copy that. Hold position. Do not approach. Repeat, do not approach."

A flash of light cut through the night, so bright it momentarily blinded me even through the vehicle's tinted windows. The ground beneath us shuddered as a muffled boom reached our ears, followed by the distinctive roar of fire finding oxygen.

My heart stopped, pain lancing through my chest like someone had driven a blade between my ribs. My lungs refused to draw breath, my vision tunneling until all I could see was that inferno swallowing the building that held everything that mattered to me.

"Xavier!" The name tore from my throat as I lunged for the door, only to be restrained by Reid's iron grip on my arm. The blood drained from my face, my skin going cold and clammy with shock.

"Stay in the vehicle, Astrada," he ordered. "That's a direct command."

Through the windshield, I could see flames licking at the mill's windows, orange tongues hungrily devouring the darkness. Smoke billowed upward, black against the night sky, carrying the acrid scent of burning chemicals and metal. Behind my eyes, I saw Xavier engulfed by those same flames, his skin blackening, his mouth open in a silent scream.

"He's in there!" I fought against Reid's grip, my entire body trembling with adrenaline and fear. Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. Xavier wouldn't cry. Xavier would act. "We need to go now!"

"Negative." Reid's voice was steel, unflinching despite the hell unfolding before us. "We follow extraction protocols. Lieutenant Dawson's team is moving to secure a perimeter. We maintain position until ordered otherwise."

"Fuck protocols!" The words exploded from me, raw and desperate. My nails dug crescents into my palms, drawing blood I didn't feel. "Felix just turned that place into an inferno. Without comms, Xavier doesn't know we're coming. He's alone in there!"

The thought of Xavier trapped in flames sent my mind spiraling to that night in his bedroom after he'd marked me with hot wax, his voice like gravel against my skin: "Fire is transformation. It cleanses. It purifies. It reveals what truly matters." Xavier, the man who used fire as his weapon, was now its prisoner.

Reid's expression remained professional, but his eyes betrayed a flash of genuine sympathy. "I understand your concern, but rushing in blind will only create more casualties."

I forced myself to breathe, to think past the terror clouding my judgment. Every muscle in my body screamed to move, to run into that inferno, but I fought the impulse with what little rational thought remained. Xavier needed me functional, not hysterical.

"Listen," I said, deliberately lowering my voice, though my heart hammered so hard against my ribs I thought they might crack. "I'm not asking to run in guns blazing. But the comms blackout is the immediate problem. If I can get closer to the building, I might be able to identify the jamming frequency, create a workaround."

Reid's eyes narrowed, considering. "You're talking about approaching a building that's actively being consumed by military-grade incendiaries."

"I'm talking about giving Xavier a fighting chance," I corrected. "If he can hear us, we can guide him out. Give him extraction paths, warn him about structural weaknesses." I gestured to the equipment surrounding me. "I can do this, Commander. It's what Wattson trained me for after I joined the Dogs."

Something shifted in Reid's expression. Recognition of a fellow professional who knew his capabilities. The same look I'd seen during tense standoffs with rival crews when decisions came down to trust rather than rank. "Command is not going to like this."

"Then don't tell them until I've reestablished communications," I replied, sweat beading on my forehead despite the vehicle's climate control. I tasted salt on my upper lip, my body already preparing for what was to come. "Three minutes. That's all I need to get close enough to analyze the jamming pattern."

The commander's internal struggle played out across his face, duty warring with pragmatism. Finally, he gave a sharp nod. "Three minutes. You stay within sight of this vehicle at all times. First sign of structural collapse, you haul ass back here. Clear?"

"Crystal," I agreed, already grabbing the portable scanning equipment.

I was out of the vehicle before he could reconsider, the cool night air a shock against my face after the climate-controlled interior. The smell hit me immediately. Chemical accelerants, burning metal, and something else. Something that triggered a primal response hardwired into human DNA. The scent of large-scale destruction. Of death approaching on thermal currents.

The portable scanner felt reassuringly solid in my hands as I moved toward the building. I kept to the shadows, using the abandoned equipment surrounding the mill for cover. The heat of the growing inferno pressed against my face even from fifty yards away, a warning of what waited inside.

I activated the scanner, its display illuminating my face with ghostly blue light. The device's antenna extended automatically, sweeping through frequencies. The system wasn't unlike the combat simulations I'd designed for the Army before joining the Dogs. While I'd never seen active combat during my service, I'd built software that prepared others for battlefield communications and signal intelligence. My technical expertise from those days had proven valuable to the mercenary company after I left the military.

The scanner beeped softly as it identified the first jamming frequency. An ugly spike of interference centered around our primary communications channel. Clever. But not clever enough to account for someone with my specific training.

I adjusted the scanner's parameters, focusing on the harmonics of the interference pattern. Every jammer, no matter how sophisticated, left fingerprints in the electromagnetic spectrum. Identifying those fingerprints was the first step toward circumvention.

A second beep. Then a third. The scanner was mapping the full range of the jamming system, building a composite profile of its operation. Military grade, definitely. But with a distinctive modification that suggested civilian adaptation. Felix had repurposed military equipment rather than using it straight from the source.

"Come on," I muttered, watching the progress bar inch forward. "Give me something to work with."

The scanner chimed, its display flashing green as it completed its analysis. A frequency map appeared, showing the pattern of the jamming system. Three primary frequencies, each pulsing in a synchronized pattern that created an overlapping dead zone.

But between those pulses...

"There," I whispered, fingers flying over the scanner's interface, a surge of triumph cutting through my fear. "There's a microsecond gap in the pulse cycle. Barely long enough for a data packet, but it's there."

The code flowed from my fingers with practiced skill, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought faltered. This was my realm. The manipulation of signals, the bending of electromagnetic waves to my will. If Phoenix thought he could cut Xavier off from me with mere technology, he'd underestimated what I was willing to do to maintain that connection.

I reconfigured my comm unit, setting it to transmit exclusively during those minuscule windows of vulnerability. It wasn't a perfect solution. Communication would be fragmented, unreliable. But it might get through where our standard signals couldn't.

"Xavier," I spoke into the modified comm, keeping my voice low and steady despite the tremor I couldn't quite banish. "If you can hear me, this is Leo. The building is rigged with military-grade incendiaries. Do not engage directly. Find an exit route and respond if possible."

I waited, counting heartbeats, straining to hear anything through the static. One second. Two. Three. Please, any saint who's listening, let him answer.

Then, through the crackling interference, a voice. Fragmented. Distorted. But unmistakably Xavier's.

"Trapped. Fire. Everywhere." The words came through in broken bursts, barely intelligible through the static. "Felix. Gun."

My breath caught in my throat, a physical pain that made my eyes water. A desperate, animal sound escaped me. Half sob, half laugh. Xavier was alive. But from what little had come through, he was trapped and Felix was armed. The situation was even worse than I'd feared.

Heat flushed through my body, followed by a wave of cold that left me shivering despite the inferno burning yards away. In my mind, I saw Xavier as he'd been that morning, commanding and powerful even in moments of vulnerability. The words he'd whispered against my skin still echoed in my head: "I never believed in souls until I met you. Never thought I'd need anyone the way I need you."

I'd promised him I wouldn't try to save him. That I'd run if things went wrong. But we both knew that was a lie. Just as he couldn't stop hunting those who deserved punishment, I couldn't stop myself from walking through fire for him.

"Team One to Base," Lieutenant Dawson's voice crackled through the general channel from his position at the perimeter. "North entrance compromised. Fire spreading rapidly throughout the structure. Multiple explosions detected inside. Building integrity failing."

Reid's response was immediate. "Base to all teams, initiate emergency extraction protocols. Repeat: emergency extraction. All personnel fall back to a safe distance."

"No!" I shouted, switching channels, my voice breaking with desperation. "Xavier's still alive in there! We need to go in after him!"

"That's an order, Astrada," Dawson's voice cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "The structure is compromised. We've got multiple secondary explosions. This place is coming down, and we are not losing anyone else today."

I stood frozen, the comm unit clutched in my hand, the mill burning before me. An order I couldn't obey. A promise I couldn't keep. My body vibrated with adrenaline, sweat and rain mingling on my skin as the heat of the approaching fire dried it almost instantly. I could taste ash on my tongue, bitter and acrid. A preview of what waited inside.

The rain finally broke overhead, fat drops striking my face as lightning flashed across the sky. I tilted my head back, letting the water cool my overheated skin for a moment. Steam rose from my tactical gear as raindrops hit fabric already warmed by the approaching inferno, the sensation oddly baptismal. Nature's drama unfolding alongside our human tragedy, indifferent to our suffering.

I scanned the burning building, mind racing through structural analysis, potential entry points, survival probabilities. A cold, analytical part of me, the part Xavier had nurtured without realizing it, calculated odds and trajectories with machine-like skill. My Army training merged with the desperate need to reach Xavier, creating a clarity I'd rarely experienced. Time seemed to slow, each second expanding to contain volumes of calculation and decision.

"I'm sorry," I said into the comm, knowing Reid could hear me. Knowing what my next actions would cost. My voice had changed, hardened into something that would have surprised anyone who knew only the gentle, accommodating Leo I showed the world. "I can't leave him in there."

"Astrada, don't you dare."

I switched off the comm unit, cutting off Reid's protest. My thumb lingered on the button, a momentary hesitation. The last thread of rationality trying to assert itself. They would try to stop me if they could. Would follow protocols designed to minimize casualties rather than save a single life. It was the rational choice. The correct choice, from a tactical perspective.

But I wasn't operating from tactics anymore. This was something older. Something more primal. Something that had driven humans to walk through fire since the first caves. The absolute certainty that the person on the other side was worth burning for. I would rather die at Xavier's side than live knowing I'd abandoned him to face his death alone.

In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. The sign of the cross came automatically, muscle memory from years at my abuela's knee. Not a plea for salvation. I'd made my choice and accepted whatever damnation might come with it. But an acknowledgment of the sacrifice I was willing to make.

The scanner in my hand showed what the others hadn't noticed yet. A service entrance on the west side of the building, partially obscured by collapsed scaffolding. The thermal readings suggested lower temperatures in that section, the fire not yet having reached its full intensity there.

A way in. A way to Xavier. A path to salvation or damnation. I no longer cared which.

I moved without conscious thought, feet carrying me toward that possible entry point even as the rational part of my brain screamed warnings about structural collapse, oxygen deprivation, and burn injuries. I was vaguely aware of shouting behind me. Dawson or Reid, ordering me to stop. My body thrummed with a strange energy, every nerve firing simultaneously, heart pounding in a rhythm that seemed to echo Xavier's name with each beat.

I didn't stop.

The heat intensified as I approached the building, a physical presence pushing against me like a wall. Sweat soaked through my tactical gear, steam rising from my sleeves as raindrops hit the super-heated air surrounding me.

The service entrance loomed ahead, half-hidden behind fallen metal panels. Smoke poured from cracks around its frame, suggesting the fire was spreading in that direction even now. I had minutes at most before this route would be cut off as well.

My hand reached for the door handle, then jerked back as the metal seared my palm even through my glove. Pain lanced up my arm, sharp and clarifying.

This was madness. Suicide. The building was a death trap, specifically designed to kill anyone inside.

I pressed my burnt hand against my chest, the pain a counterpoint to the fear and determination warring within me. What was I doing? I had no special training for fire rescue. No equipment beyond basic tactical gear. Nothing that gave me any realistic chance of finding Xavier alive in that inferno, let alone getting him out.

The sound of another explosion from inside the building made the decision for me. I grabbed a piece of fallen metal sheeting, using it as a barrier between my hand and the scorching door handle.

I'm coming, Xavier. The thought crystallized into absolute certainty as I wrenched the door open. Even if it means burning beside you.

Heat and smoke billowed out, momentarily blinding me. I dropped to a crouch, seeking the marginally cleaner air near the floor. The doorway framed a corridor of fire and smoke, a passage straight into hell.

I pulled the tactical mask from my belt, securing it over my face to filter at least some of the toxic fumes. The oxygen supply was minimal—enough for perhaps ten minutes of steady breathing. After that, I'd be at the mercy of whatever air remained inside.

Behind me, I could hear Reid shouting orders, organizing his team for what they must now see as a recovery operation rather than a rescue. I blocked out their voices, focusing entirely on what waited ahead.

With one final glance at the night sky beyond—at the world I might never see again—I stepped through the doorway and into the burning mill.

The door swung shut behind me with the finality of a tomb sealing closed.

But Xavier was here. Somewhere in this hell of flame and smoke and groaning metal.

And I was going to find him or die trying.