Helena’s intel was good. Finally. After three agonizing weeks, I was beginning to think that Helena knew nothing at all. She almost had us in Lienz, but even someone as stubborn as Helena can’t hold out forever.

The embassy is living proof of that. Everyone breaks.

It took us less than five minutes for Fury to verify that she was right. It’s hidden deep within the forest, and with the constant snowfall and the thick brush of the trees, we wouldn’t have found it without an aerial view. Being out of those godforsaken tunnels is a breath of fresh air. There’s only so long I can handle being trapped in that tomb, and even less that I can tolerate inhaling that gas everywhere I walk. And seeing Bane and Alastor milling about the small complex is the best gift Helena could’ve given us.

I settle back behind a fallen tree, concealing the both of us from their view, not that they could spot us anyway with the thick paint camouflaging us both. Baron hates it, but he doesn’t complain. He knows better to argue with me, especially when he knows I’m right.

Baron’s laugh pulls me back. He’s priming his knife with a small stone, each pass making the knife sing.

“You should’ve been an actor, buddy,” he says after a moment. “That was worthy of a fucking Oscar.”

The corner of my lips twitch, a warm satisfaction settling in my chest. “There’s benefits to being a people person.”

“Might be time I learned,” he laughs. “That was beautiful. I’ve never seen someone look so fucking broken.”

I shake my head, turning back to the bustle of bodies behind us. There’s an art to control and manipulation is a skill you inherit, not something you can learn. Baron doesn’t have the temper for it, or the patience. This interrogation took twenty-four days, and several attempts to sneak in and administer IV-fluids so that the stubborn woman wouldn’t die of thirst. Baron would snap after the first day, and slice up her face until she’s unrecognizable.

His temper gets him in trouble, especially after the school blew. Branding her was too far, but I like to think I made up for it. It served me well. Pain could never break her, but when she’s trapped there for weeks with nothing to look forward to but the end of a knife, she’ll cling to anything that gives her comfort.

Me.

There’s a reason I prefer psychological torture. She trusted me, and I ensured that the only one she could rely on to survive, to keep sane is me. Now she has nothing. No family, no friends. No Bane.

“Captivity makes everyone desperate. I can’t say I expected more from her.” My eyes follow a pair of praying mantises as they crawl around my boot, the female entangled with the male. “The mind is brittle. One wrong movement and they will shatter.” The female moves with the male during their mating ritual. “Trauma fucks with more than just your mind. It fucks every part of you and once your mind splinters…” The female rips off the male’s head. “...they’re worthless.”

Baron grows quiet and when I look at him again, he’s staring at me with a bewildered look on his face.

“You’re scary when you get like that, you know that?”

My eyes fall to the ground where the dead praying mantis rests. I wasn’t like that forever. There was a time when I thought I could feel, that I knew something beyond war. Beyond Acacia and the Codex.

That feeling in my body morphs into a sickening poison, coiling in my chest until I can’t breathe. My life. My family…

I shake it off, forcing that feeling out of my body and flashing Baron a smug look. “Well we can’t all be as carefree as you.”

Baron frowns, his face burning a bright red.

“If you’re talking about what happened in Vesper–”

“I am.” I bite down a smile, brushing the dirt off my pants. “I can see why you stick to whiskey. I didn’t know you could dance like that. I still have pictures.”

“Fuck you, I was drunk,” he says, his jaw clenching.

“Oh trust me, I could tell. Everyone could tell after that fifth shot of tequila.” I smile at the memory.

That night in the club was the first time Baron and I had started working together, and we took shelter in a sex club that Bane frequented in DC. The idea was to lay low, although I can’t say I hated seeing Baron dirty dancing to every single song the DJ played.

“Could’ve fooled me that you’re so frigid.” I shake my head. “You dance like the biggest slut I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not frigid, you jackass. I’m picky.”

I hold up my hands in surrender. “I’m not complaining. I enjoyed the lap dance. It was a nice touch.”

Baron shoves me, and I can’t help but laugh. He’s too easy to heat up. Yet another reason why he was in charge of the torture and I’m in charge of the company.

I glance back. The two have moved about. Alastor barks orders at the contractors milling about and I watch him slam his fist into one that’s resting on the ground, and then dragged away by two others.

I huff and sit back, settling against the log.

“What should we do with her?” Baron asks.

Helena.

I’d almost forgotten her. She didn’t fight us when we took her back to her cell. She cried quietly to herself when I threw her back in there. She didn’t even try to run, or notice that I hadn’t chained her. She just sat there crying, defeated and depressed.

Broken.

“Leave her.” I shrug. “She’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“What about Fury?”

I pause for a moment.

“She’s alive isn’t she?” I say quieter. “We did our job. It’s not our responsibility to coddle her.”

“That wasn’t part of the deal. Fury’s not going to be happy.”

I look at Baron, and I speak slowly, drawing out each word. “Fury isn’t here.”

His mouth clamps shut and he glances back at the embassy before his brows lower. “Ready.”

I follow his gaze just in time to watch Alastor disappear inside the complex with Bane leading in front. Finally.

We move behind the trees, keeping just out of sight. Baron eagerly adjusts the camera strapped to his chest, handing me an identical earpiece. The switch makes a small hum and Baron’s voice sounds in my ear.

“Wake up, princess. We’ve got a surprise for you.”

Baron barely finishes speaking before Helena is screaming back.

“When I get my hands on you shitstains, I’ll make you fucking wish you were dead! You hear me, motherfucker? I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll kill you–”

I take out the earpiece, blinking widely. “Wow. She certainly hasn’t lost her attitude.” I press my palm against my ear, forcing the ringing to subside. “Or her voice.”

Baron crosses his arms, giggling to himself.

“Is she still screaming?” I ask, and he nods.

I shake my head, the sudden pounding in my head subsiding to a dull throb as I put the earpiece back in my ears and instantly making it worse as her voice comes back in full force.

“—don’ve give a fuck if I have to rip the goddamn Earth apart. I’ll drag you both down into fucking hell!”

I groan. “Are you finished?”

“We went to all this trouble to give you a view. The least you could do is say thank you.” Baron adds.

Helena’s heavy breaths grow silent as Baron adjusts the camera on his chest, ensuring the feed back to the tunnels.

“I think she likes it.” Baron crouches and reaches under the log. “It took us a while to find some of our toys, but thankfully, one of our friends came through and gave us this beauty.” His hand finally catches and he drags out the weapon from under the log.

A rocket launcher.

I pick it up, checking each of the parts for damage. I dislike projectiles. Bombs are already a risk to collateral damage, as Alastor so keenly showed, but Fury ensured that the RPG was modified to contain the blast radius.

I lift it to my shoulder, checking the front sight.

“See if they can survive this,” I mutter.

Helena’s voice is back in my ear, desperate and pained.

“Why are you doing this? You’re soldiers. You don’t kill innocent people.”

“Exactly,” I say simply. “You should choose your friends more carefully, doll, or you could get hurt.”

“Don’t do this.” Her voice is quieter. Softer. She’s trying to reach me, to appeal to that part of me that protected her, the soft part of me she’s so sure exists.

It doesn’t.

“Beg me to spare them,” Baron answers. “I might listen.”

“You’re fucking sick,” she spits.

He shrugs, his face smug. “Can’t even let go of your pride to save their lives? I’m disappointed, Helena.”

“We’ll tell them you said hi,” I add.

She starts screaming again, speaking obscenities and begging Bane to run, as if he could hear her.

“Easy doll,” Baron groans, his hand flying to his ear to adjust the volume. “They can’t hear you, but if you keep screaming like that, neither will we.”

Her screams are deafening and I mute it when she starts threatening to dismember us. I turn to Baron, steadying the gun on my shoulder. “When it blows, find Bane. Make sure nothing is left. I’ll take care of Alastor.”

He nods and crouches below the log.

“Ready.”

I aim the rocket launcher at the building. They’ve all mostly gathered inside, only two sentries stationed out of it, and still they can’t see us. I flick off the safety. I can imagine Helena still screaming, begging us to see sense, to spare them. I almost feel bad at how desperately she clings to her ignorance, but this isn’t just for us. I want her to watch.

I fire.

The grenade shoots out of the gun with a loud boom. The sentries shout for cover but it’s too late. It makes contact and the entire building goes in smoke. The stone and concrete groans from the large hole and it splinters like broken glass until it gives way, collapsing halfway in on itself. Screams sound from inside and it grows quiet. The sound makes me sigh in relief and pleasure. Those screams could be Bane’s. Alastor’s.

But it’s not over yet. I need to see for myself.

“Find him.”

We both race towards the building. Baron quickly clears the outer edges of the building and takes out any stragglers who managed to survive. I save my bullets. I won’t waste them until I have Bane and Alastor in my sights.

We split off once we enter the building, Baron charging towards the back while I clear the outer rooms. I sweep the area, and every body that I find that isn’t those two makes my blood boil. There’s no way they survived this.

I flip over another and I see a blur move just out of my peripheral.

Alastor.

I unmute my earpiece, pressing on the receiver as I take after him.

“I’ve got Alastor.” I shoot after him and the bullet bounces off of his armor. He shoots back, and I duck, the bullet whizzing just past me. I aim to shoot him again but he disappears around the corner.

“Shit!” I press on the receiver again. “Baron?”

“I’ve got Bane!”

I race further into the building and catch up with Baron. Bane is pushing through the rubble, only briefly using one of the injured contractors as a shield as Baron tries desperately to hit him.

Bane throws the dead body aside and sprints.

I draw my gun and squeeze the trigger but it doesn’t fire. It doesn’t even move. I try again and it jams again.

Are you fucking serious?

Bane moves through another room towards the exit and I hit the gun frantically to fix it. “Come on, dammit.”

Baron misses again and Bane wrenches at the back door.

I throw my gun to the side, and grab an M4 from one of the bodies and fire just before Bane can make it out.

Bane’s head explodes, a red mist in its place.

“Woah!” Baron jumps back, looking at me.

I look down at the rifle in my hands.

That’s not an M4. It’s a shotgun.

Oops .

I set it down, and move over to the body. It’s a little late to verify that it’s him, although he certainly stinks like Bane. I crouch down, catching the familiar scar on his hand and the initial patch on his chest, now stained red from his own blood.

Baron hands me my jammed rifle and I aim it. It fires this time, striking Bane directly in the chest. I fire again and again and Baron does the same, the bullets unloading on his body rapidly until there’s nothing left of him.

Nothing.

Baron laughs, kicking the pieces of him. “See this fucker come back from the dead.”

I don’t answer. I stare at the stain of blood on the ground and my hands curl into fists. He’s gone. He’s dead. Seven years of hell and he’s finally gone.

“Silas?”

I turn back to Baron, and he places a hand on my shoulder. I nod, and we make our way out of the building.

“What about Alastor?” He asks.

“He won’t go far,” I say. “He’s useless without his brother. No one else alive knows where the bunker is.”

A silence passes us and all we can hear is Helena’s soft crying in our ears. I step out of the rubble and the cool air chills my face, but I don’t mind it this time. It grounds me, and reminds me that Bane won’t know relief or cold or peace ever again. All that waits for him is fire.

It’s over.

Anthony Bane is dead.