Page 92 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

“Webbing’s jammed.” Gabe’s voice remains calm despite the water now reaching his sternum. His knife flashes in the dim light, sawing at the nylon restraints. “Release mechanism’s bent.”

“Go.” Ethan jerks his chin toward the exit, already moving toward Gabe. “I’ve got him.”

I hesitate, torn between helping my closest friend and following orders.

“Hank.” Gabe meets my eyes, no panic in his expression despite the rising water. “Clear the bird. Do your job.”

One quick assessment—Ethan has better leverage. The water continues to rise, now neck-deep. Thirty seconds at most before complete submersion.

The hardest step I’ve ever taken is the one that carries me away from Gabe, through the exit, into open water.

The Pacific closes over my head. Seventy-two degrees doesn’t sound like it should be cold, but the shock of it steals my breath, muscles contracting involuntarily against the assault. My body wants to gasp, to fight, to panic. I suppress thoseinstincts, channeling everything into controlled movements. Deploy rebreather. Establish position. Locate aircraft. Monitor team emergence.

I surface alongside Rigel, Blake, Walt, Jeb, and Carter. Moonlight catches on wet faces as we form a defensive perimeter around the sinking helicopter. The pilots appear next, coughing and sputtering as they emerge from the cockpit. Rigel and Blake immediately move to assist them, offering support.

Forty-three seconds pass before Ethan surfaces, dragging Gabe beside him. A jagged tear runs down Gabe’s thigh, visible even in the dim light.

“Status.” Ethan treads water, one arm supporting Gabe.

“Perimeter secure.” Rigel scans the horizon, his voice barely audible above the water.

“Pilots stable.” Blake helps the co-pilot adjust to a floating position.

“Rebreathers functional.” Walt completes his equipment check.

“Comms working.” Carter verifies our most vital link to the outside world.

“Ready to move.” Jeb confirms his status.

“How bad?” I swim to Gabe’s side, taking some of his weight from Ethan.

“Had worse.” Gabe’s jaw tightens against pain. “Metal fragment from the door frame. Clean cut.”

Enemy aircraft wheel overhead, predatory birds seeking confirmation of their kill. Their spotlights cut through darkness, methodical search patterns sweeping the water’s surface. The sound of rotors echoes across the open ocean, growing louder as they close in on our position.

“Ten minutes underwater.” Ethan’s order comes swift and clear. “Bearing zero-nine-zero toward shore. Rigel and Blakeassist the pilots. Share rebreathers as needed. Surface only when clear of search pattern.”

We float in silence, dark figures in darker water. Minimal movement. Every man’s face half-submerged to reduce our thermal signatures.

“Alpha Actual.”Static crackles from Ethan’s waterproof comm.“Visual on crash site. Confirmation of status requested.”Ethan’s jaw tightens. Ten seconds pass as he weighs options.“All Guardian units. Charlie team is down. Repeat, Charlie team is down. All units fall back to secondary positions. Maintain operational security. Do not attempt recovery.”

The lie settles over us like a shroud. As far as Guardian HRS knows, we just died. As far as Malfor knows, his ambush succeeded.

We’re ghosts now.

“Dive.” Ethan’s command sends us beneath the waves just as the search aircraft approaches our position.

THIRTY-ONE

The Trojan Betrayal

ALLY

The explosion replaysbehind my eyelids every time I blink. White-hot light consuming the helicopter.

Gone. They’re gone. They’re gone.

Guards drag me from my cell, but my legs won’t support my weight. I stumble, catch myself against the concrete wall, and leave bloody fingerprints on gray stone. The collar chafes against raw skin, metal edges digging into wounds that never heal before new ones form, but physical pain barely registers through the emotional devastation hollowing me from within.