Page 38 of Rescuing Ally, Part 2 (CHARLIE Team: Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists #8)

THIRTY-FOUR

Into the Drainage Tunnel

GABE

The bumblebees limp back with fragmented intel. Broken. Destroyed. But not before delivering their deadly payload and mapping enough of the compound for our mission.

“Drainage tunnel entrance coordinates locked.” Whisper’s tablet bathes his scarred face in ghostly blue light, his eyes reflecting code sequences and death.

My SIG weighs a thousand pounds tonight. I slide my finger along the barrel, feeling every scratch, every kill etched into its metal. Around me, men transform into machines—methodical hands checking magazines, sealing waterproof packs, tightening tactical straps.

The cave holds its breath.

“Ninety minutes, max, before Malfor’s system detects the corruption.” Ghost cuts through our silence with a voice like gravel over bone. “Drone swarm released the Trojan package before neutralization.”

“After that?” Ethan’s eyes reflect firelight, twin flames of focused rage.

“After that, all hell breaks loose.” Ghost’s shoulders rise and fall, casual as discussing dinner plans. “Nanobots tearing each other apart. Security systems failing. Backup generators kicking in.”

“Chaos.” The word tastes metallic on my tongue, like blood and victory mixed. Perfect. We thrive in chaos when others drown in it. Hank grins beside me. Like him, I’m eager to get this show on the road.

Rigel crouches beside one of the pilots, who sits alert against the cave wall. “You good to man comms?”

“I’ll be your eyes topside.” The pilot checks the equipment. His hands steady.

The tablet, earpiece, and sidearm we leave him look pathetically inadequate against the crushing darkness of the cave.

“Three miles to target. Remember, we’re ghosts. No trace.” Ghost scans each face, memorizing our features like a commander tallying his troops before a suicide mission.

Hank stares through the cave opening where moonlight fractures across black water. “Just like old times.”

Something electric crackles through the air. Understanding. Resolve. Hunger.

Yes. This time, we willingly embrace the crushing ocean. This time we choose to hunt. This time, we become the nightmares that stalk other men’s darkness.

“Comms check.” Whisper taps his ear, the tiny movement focusing everyone’s attention.

Twelve voices breathe confirmation one by one. Whispers in the dark.

“Let’s hunt.” Ghost’s nod sends us into motion.

The ocean swallows us whole. My injured leg screams rebellion. I shove the pain into a dark corner of my mind and lock the door. Pain belongs to tomorrow.

Black water. Black sky. Black purpose.

Waves smash against jagged rocks, spray raining down like ice shards. Every stroke resurrects yesterday’s nightmare—endless miles, burning muscles, death circling beneath. But fear finds no purchase tonight. Tonight, I am the creature other men fear.

Ally’s face appears in my mind each time I surface for air. Pale. Beautiful. Alive.

She has to be alive.

“Contact point ahead. Fifty meters.” Ghost’s voice slithers through my earpiece.

The cliff face towers above us, darker than the night sky it scrapes against. Waves hammer stone walls, spray whipping in the wind. I time my strokes with the surging water, letting it carry me forward, then fight its greedy pull as it retreats.

There is a deeper wound in the rock face. The tunnel mouth.

Ghost and Brass vanish into that darkness first. Whisper treads water beside me, tablet held above the churning surface. I follow Hank toward the opening, fighting currents that want to pulverize us against stone.

“Entrance secure.” Ghost’s voice crackles through the comms.

The tunnel swallows me, its mouth barely wider than my shoulders. Cold stone scrapes against my wetsuit as I haul myself inside. The stench hits like a rogue wave—rot and waste and chemical death. My stomach coils into knots.

“Grate ahead.” Ghost’s warning echoes back through darkness.

Walt edges forward, tools appearing in his hands like extensions of his fingers. His waterproof flashlight catches metal teeth—a rusted barrier blocking our advance. The snip of his cutters through corroded bars sounds deafening in the confined space.

“Real tight.” Blake eyes the narrow opening as Walt pulls the grate free.

Rigel’s teeth flash white in the darkness. “Too tight for you?”

“Watch me.” Blake’s eyes narrow to slits.

He forces his massive frame through the gap, shoulders scraping both sides of the passage. His grunt rebounds through the tunnel, amplified by concrete and water.

“Single file.” Ghost’s finger jabs forward.

The passage narrows further, angles upward.

No more swimming—just crawling on elbows and knees over slick concrete that reeks of decades of filth.

Water trickles past, carrying unidentifiable things that brush against my hands in the darkness.

The stench intensifies—chemical waste, decomposing matter, and something metallic that coats my tongue and burns my sinuses.

My injured leg drags behind me, each movement detonating fresh explosions up my spine. My teeth clench against the pain.

Just keep moving.

The walls press closer. The ceiling lowers. Thousands of tons of earth and concrete crushing down from above. My breath comes faster, shallower. The darkness thickens, becoming almost solid. We’re crawling straight into hell’s throat.

“Motion sensor.” Brass’s urgent hiss halts our advance.

Every muscle locks. Brass extracts a small penlight from his pocket.

“Infrared bypass loop.” His whisper barely carries back to us. “Oldest trick in the book.”

My lungs burn. Sweat trickles down my back despite the cold. If that sensor triggers…

“Clear. Move slowly past this junction.” Brass’s voice releases us from our paralysis.

We inch forward, bodies pressed against slime-slick walls. The tunnel splits—one path continuing upward, another branching left.

“Maintenance access fifty meters ahead.” Whisper consults his tablet. “Left.”

The passage widens slightly. Our spines straighten from crawl to crouch, weapons ready. Water still trickles beneath our boots, but it’s less now, barely covering the concrete.

“Hatch leads to a maintenance courtyard on the compound’s south edge.” Ghost pauses, voice dropping even lower. “Access point ahead.”

“Security?” Ethan’s question floats forward.

“Two cameras, wide-angle. Blind spot directly below the hatch.”

My watch reads thirty-seven minutes since we entered the tunnel. The luminescent dial glows faintly green against the darkness.

Ghost stops at a metal ladder bolted into concrete. Above us, a circular hatch catches what little light penetrates this deep.

“Malfor’s security focuses on the main gate and airfield.” Ghost runs his fingers along the ladder’s lowest rung. “Swarm intel shows minimal guard presence in this quadrant. This back corner houses machinery, water treatment, and power distribution.”

“Perfect.” Ethan’s voice carries the first hint of satisfaction I’ve heard since we hit water.

Ghost turns his head toward Whisper. “Status on the Trojan horse?”

“Twenty percent integration.” Whisper’s eyes never leave his tablet. “Spreading through the system.”

“Charlie team, head east once we’re up.” Ghost sweeps his gaze across our faces, eyes hard as flint in the dim light. “Your women are held in the subbasement of the main building, north quadrant. Cerberus will move west, secure the server hub, and ensure total system corruption.”

“Rendezvous?” Ethan shifts his weight, already planning three steps ahead.

“North perimeter fence, zero-two-hundred. Extract through the blind spot we identified. If anyone misses rendezvous, secondary extract at the cliff base, zero-three-hundred.”

My fingers tighten around my weapon until my knuckles crack. We won’t miss the rendezvous, not with our women.

“Questions?” Ghost scans our faces.

Silence answers. We all know what’s at stake.

“I’ll take point. Brass, cover. Everyone else, ten-second intervals.” Ghost’s hand reaches for the ladder.

The hatch opens with a whisper of metal. Ghost vanishes through the gap, then Brass follows. One by one, we ascend.

Cool night air rushes into my lungs as I emerge, the sudden absence of the tunnel’s stench almost dizzying.

A small concrete courtyard surrounds us, hemmed in by chain-link topped with glinting razor wire.

Generator housings and massive water tanks create a maze of shadows.

Distant lights from the main compound bleed against the low clouds, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow.

Somewhere beyond those lights, Ally breathes that same air.

We converge in the shadow of a towering water tank. Ghost kneels, unfolding a device that projects a ghostly blue blueprint onto the concrete.

“Security grid starting to glitch. Camera feeds are looping. Electronic locks are cycling randomly.” Something almost like pleasure flickers across Ghost’s face. “The Trojan horse is working.”

“Maybe forty minutes before full system collapse.” Whisper glances up from his tablet. “We’ve got a nice window.”

“This is where we split.” Ghost lifts his eyes to Ethan. “Charlie team, you know your objective.”

“We do.” Steel hardens Ethan’s voice.

“Happy hunting.” Ghost’s hand extends between them. For a heartbeat, something almost human crosses his face.

“You too.” Ethan clasps the offered hand.

Cerberus dissolves into shadows. Four wraiths swallowed by darkness, bound for a mission history will never record.

“Formation delta.” Ethan turns toward us, voice barely disturbing the air. “I’ll take point. Hank, you’re two. Gabe, you’re three. Walt and Blake cover our six. Rigel, Carter, and Jeb, watch our flanks.”

My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline flooding my system, washing away the pain. Nothing exists but the mission. The objective. The hunt.

Ally.

“We move fast. We hit hard. We leave nothing behind but bodies.” Ethan’s eyes lock with each of ours, forging connections stronger than words.

“All of us.” Hank’s voice carries the weight of promise. “We all go home.”

All of us. The men. The women. Ally. Everyone.

Ethan’s sharp nod launches us into motion. “Move out.”

We flow between shadows toward the main compound, eight separate killers merging into one lethal organism. Each silent footstep brings us closer.

Closer to our targets. Closer to our women.

The hunt begins.