CHAPTER 13: THE EXTRACTION TURNS DEADLY

 It was too quiet in the hospital parking garage.

Isla's hand wrapped around the strap of her bag as she exited the SUV.

Beside her was Nathaniel, searching the scene with the keen vigilance of a man who had lived far too long in twilight.

"They're here," he murmured.

Her pulse spiked. "Are you sure?"

Nathaniel shot her a look. "I'm never not sure."

She swallowed thickly, then nodded. They didn't have time to think twice.

Ethan was waiting.

They made their way quickly through the underground garage toward the private entrance Damien had set up. With every step, the atmosphere grew denser, the walls closing in around them.

Then Nathaniel stopped.

Too fast. Too sudden.

Isla had no time to react before he grabbed her arm and yanked her into the shadows.

And a moment later, a black SUV crept by, slow and deliberate.

Not hospital security.

Not visitors.

Antonov's men.

Her throat tightened.

"They're blocking the exits," she said in a whisper.

Nathaniel's eyes were cold. "Then we make a new one."

He unsheathed his gun, methodically checking the clip.

"We have five minutes, max," he said under his breath. 

"We grab Ethan, and we get the hell out of here."

Isla swayed and nodded, taking a shaky breath. 

She was not a fighter, but she was not helpless.

And she damned well wasn't going to leave without her brother.

***

 The private suite was located on the twelfth floor.

When they reached Ethan's door, it was already opened.

A panic ignited in her chest, but Nathaniel raised a hand — a wordless warning.

He went in first, weapon drawn, slipping in like a shadow.

Isla trailed behind, heart pounding.

Ethan was sitting up in bed, pale but awake. He stared at them in surprise.

"You don't belong here," he whispered.

Nathaniel ignored him. "We need to move. Now."

Ethan frowned. "Why?"

Then Isla saw it.

The IV bag.

The liquid wasn't clear inside. It was vaguely cloudy, whirling beneath the dim hospital lights.

Her stomach dropped.

"What are they giving you?" she said, her voice deadly quiet.

Ethan hesitated.

A second too long.

Nathaniel was already moving. He tore the IV from Ethan's arm and threw it away.

"What the hell—"

"Somebody dosed your meds, kid," Nathaniel exploded.

Isla's blood ran cold.

Antonov's men weren't just watching.

They had already taken their step.

Then—

A sound.

BRANCH! There is the unmistakable click of a safety being disengaged.

Nathaniel pushed Ethan off the bed just as a bullet ripped through the pillow where his head had been.

The room exploded into chaos.

The shooter was fast.

Nathaniel was faster.

He spun, fired twice, and crashed the attacker against the door frame before the man could shoot again.

"Move!" he barked.

Isla was already reaching for Ethan, pulling him up as alarms rang out through the hospital.

Nathaniel slammed the door shut, buying them seconds — mere seconds.

"Out from the side exit," he said. 

"We don't have the time for the elevator."

Isla shook in the hands, but did not pause. She tossed Ethan's arm over her shoulder, helping him lean.

"I can walk," Ethan said weakly.

"Shut up and get a move on," Isla said sharply.

Nathaniel flung open the emergency stairwell door. 

More footfalls echoed below — son of a bitch.

They were waiting for them.

No choice.

"We go up," he growled.

Isla gave him a frantic look. "Up?"

"There's a helipad." Nathaniel checked his clip. 

Three bullets left. Not enough.

 "If Cross is paying attention, he'll have someone there."

Ethan let out a weak laugh. "No offense, but this sounds like a horrible plan."

Nathaniel smirked. "Good thing you don't get a vote, then."

He led the way, gun drawn, up the stairwell. Every second counted.

Footsteps pounded below. Shouts echoed up the shaft.

They were closing in.

***

 Damien arrives on the rooftop to find Gabriel already waiting.

"They're trapped," Gabriel said, tossing Damien an earpiece.

Damien seized it, shoving it inside as he drew his gun.

"Tell me something I don't know," he said under his breath.

Helicopter blades twirled above them, wind flying between them.

"Backup?" Gabriel asked.

Damien chambered a round.

"They don't need backup." His eyes darkened. 

"They need an executioner."

Then he was moving.

Down the stairwell.

Straight into the fire.

***

 The rooftop door swung open, and Isla nearly yelled —

Until she saw who it was.

Damien.

Her relief was instant.

Her frustration was worse.

"What the hell took you so long?" she snapped.

Damien barely had a glance for her. Already his gun was raised, shooting beyond them before she could think.

A scream. A body hitting the floor.

Then he was in motion, covering the distance between them in a pair of long strides.

"Move," he ordered.

Nathaniel grunted. "Nice timing."

Damien smirked. "You looked like you could use the help."

Gunfire erupted below. They had no time for this sort of business.

"The chopper's on standby," Damien said. 

"Go."

Nathaniel seized Ethan and pulled him to the door.

Isla hesitated.

For just a second.

Then Damien's hand was on her wrist, tugging her forward.

His grip was warm. Solid.

"You're not dying tonight," he said softly.

She swallowed hard. "And if I was?"

His eyes burned. "Then I'd turn around and bring you back just to kill you myself."

Then he let go.

And Isla ran.

They had a narrow escape to the chopper.

Bullets smashed down on the pavement behind them, ricocheting off the metal frame.

Nathaniel pushed Ethan inside first. Isla climbed in after him.

Then Damien.

As soon as Guzmán's feet were off the ground, Gabriel gave the signal, and the helicopter departed.

Antonov's men were swarming onto the rooftop below, but it was too late.

They were gone.

What the fuck, Isla thought, gasping, a hand coming to her chest as her heart raced ahead of her.

Then she turned to Damien.

He appeared transfixed by the city below, his face inscrutable.

"You saved us," she whispered.

Damien didn't look at her.

"I haven't saved you enough."

His voice was soft.

But the promise in it?

It was lethal.

***

 The helicopter sliced through the night sky, the lights of the city below them a maze of neon and shadows.

Isla dug her fingers into the edge of the seat, her pulse racing with abandon. Ethan was hunched beside her, his face pale, but his eyes sharp.

Nathaniel slowly rearmed his weapon in miles of mechanically degree, as Damien took a seat opposite her, his face inscrutable. Those words hung in the air for a full minute.

I'm not done saving you yet.

She wanted to ask what he meant by that. Wanted to demand answers.

But at the moment, there were more pressing matters.

"What the hell just happened?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

Nathaniel laughed dryly. "That? That was Antonov saying he's no longer going to play games."

Ethan groaned. "We were never playing to begin with."

Damien finally looked at him, considering. 

"You are alive because I had a hunch this would happen. We won't be so fortunate next time."

Ethan blinked. "Next time?"

Isla stiffened.

Damien's meaning was clear. Antonov wouldn't stop. He had taken it up a notch — this wasn't a warning. This was an act of war.

And they had narrowly survived round one.

***

 The safehouse was a penthouse in the middle of the city, hidden behind layers of security that even most intelligence agencies would envy. 

Damien's men were all there waiting as they landed.

"Get Ethan checked out," he barked at Gabriel. 

"Full scan. I want to know what was in that IV."

Gabriel nodded and took Ethan into a different room.

Isla didn't move.

Damien met her gaze.

"You should rest," he said.

She scoffed. "Rest? You expect me to sleep after what just happened?"

Nathaniel was running a hand through his hair. 

"She's got a point, boss."

Damien took a breath and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Fine. You want answers?" He motioned for her to follow.

She hesitated, then nodded.

Nathaniel smirked. "I'll be downstairs. Try not to kill each other."

Damien took Isla into a study, closing the door behind them.

She crossed her arms. "Start talking."

He leaned against the desk and watched her. 

"Antonov, wanted Ethan dead tonight."

"No kidding."

"But not only because of you."

Isla's stomach clenched. "What do you mean?"

Damien's stare remained steady, unyielding. 

"I mean, your father's not the only one with secrets."

She frowned. "What does that—"

The realization hit.

She had thought Antonov was going after Ethan to spite her. To send a message to her.

But what if Ethan was a target for a completely different one?

What if he knew something?

Her pulse spiked. "What aren't you telling me?"

Damien cocked his head and looked her over. He pushed away from the desk and stepped closer.

"You want the truth?"

She swallowed. "Yes."

He lowered his voice to a murmur.

"Then brace yourself, Isla."

Because once she had heard it, there was no turning back.

And neither would things be the same again.