Page 90 of Code Name: Reaper
This was it. We were all going to die here. I was going to watch Mercury get cut down by automatic weapons fire, watch Reaper get murdered by Russian operatives, watch everyone I cared about bleed out on this concrete floor while I sat helpless, tied to a chair like some kind of sacrificial offering.
Shots cracked around us like thunder, booming with explosive force. A sound tore from my throat involuntarily as the continuous roar of overlapping gunfire seemed to come from every direction at once.
Bullets sparked off the concrete around me, chips of stone flying like shrapnel. Automatic weapons spit out rounds so fast they blurred together into one continuous sound of death.
“NO!”I shrieked, pulling so hard against the zip ties that the chair rocked dangerously. Pain shot up my arms from my shredded wrists, but I didn’t care. I had to get free. Reaper, who’d somehow gotten loose from his chair, was by my side in an instant, pulling at the plastic bands on my wrist while trying to shield me with his body.
I nearly fell off the seat when the ties finally snapped and a weapon was shoved into my hands—metal warm from someone else’s grip, heavier than I expected.
Bullets whined above us with that distinctive supersonic crack that meant they were passing close enough for me to feel the displaced air against my skin.
I dropped and pressed myself against the ground. The concrete was cold and gritty against the side of my face as I tried to make out shapes through the haze. I couldn’t see well enough to take a shot without fear of hitting Mercury, Blackjack, or someone else from the coalition.
“Stay low!” Reaper shouted, pulling me behind a stack of industrial pallets.
The noise became unbearable. Single weapons cracking with sharp reports. People yelling incomprehensible things, screaming in pain, cursing in multiple languages. Ricochets whining off metal surfaces. The meaty thunk of bullets hitting flesh.
I tried to peer around our cover to see what was happening, but immediately retreated as more bullets sparked off the concrete inches from my face. Chips of stone stung my cheek, drawing blood.
My training kicked in. Find cover. Assess threats. Return fire when you have clear targets. Fundamentals took over despite the adrenaline flooding my system.
The warehouse had become a four-way battleground. Coalition forces advanced, weapons barking as they engaged multiple threats. Vasiliev’s team laid down suppressive fire with their automatic weapons. Mercury’s people controlled the elevated positions, picking shots carefully.
One of the Russians went down hard within a foot of me. His automatic weapon skittered across the ground, and blood spread beneath him in a growing pool.
Through the chaos, I tracked movement across the warehouse.Vasiliev.He was advancing toward our position, his weapon aimed straight at me. I could see his finger on the trigger of a handgun, see the muzzle lining up. I raised my Glock, acquiring a sight picture despite the chaos around us. Center mass. Controlled pairs. Then movement flashed in my peripheral vision.
Aldrich appeared from behind a concrete pillar, running at full speed. Not toward Mercury. Not toward the exit. Straight toward me and Vasiliev.
He fired at the exact moment she threw herself between his weapon and me.
“Eleanor!”Mercury’s scream pierced through the gunfire at the same time flash-bang grenades clattered across the concrete floor, the spheres bouncing and rolling like deadly marbles. The sound they made—that distinctive metallic chiming—sent ice through my veins because I knew what was coming next.
White light brighter than the sun filled my vision. Sound beyond human comprehension slammed into my eardrums. The concussion wave hit me square in the chest, knocking the air from my lungs and making my ribs ache.
I couldn’t see. Couldn’t hear. Couldn’t think. Panic consumed me completely, terror that wiped away everything except the primal need to survive. Was I hit? Was I dying? Was I bleeding out and couldn’t feel it yet because of the shock?
My vision strobed with afterimages—green and purple phantoms that danced across my retinas. My ears rang with a high-pitched whine that drowned out everything else. I couldn’t tell up from down, couldn’t orient myself in space.
When my vision cleared, I couldn’t track Vasiliev. “He’s gone,” someone shouted. “The motherfucker vanished.” The shooting had stopped, leaving dead bodies littered on the warehouse floor.
But directly in front of me, I could see Mercury cradling Prism in her arms.
“Eleanor, no, no, no,” Mercury sobbed. “Stay with me. Please stay with me.”
As coalition medics rushed forward, Reaper kept his weapon ready, scanning for threats. His free hand found mine and squeezed.
Blood frothed at the corners of Aldrich’s mouth, but her eyes were clear and focused. She raised one trembling hand to touch Mercury’s cheek.
“Keep our girl safe for me,” she said, barely audible above the ringing in our ears. Her gaze found mine across the space, and I saw recognition there—and love. “It’s up to you now.” She turned to Mercury. “You and Amaryllis and Beacon. Finish what we started—you, me, and our brother.”
“Don’t leave me,” Mercury begged, tears falling as Eleanor’s breathing became shallow, rapid, then stopped entirely. Her gaze lost focus, staring up at the warehouse ceiling.
Mercury’s grief-stricken wail echoed off the walls as she rocked her sister’s lifeless body.
Agents from the coalition and Minerva shouted orders that seemed surreal after the chaos of combat. I couldn’t make sense of any of it. My mind kept replaying the muzzle flashes, the screaming, and the moment when Aldrich had thrown herself into certain death. It played over and over like a broken film loop, each repetition making me feel sicker.
“Amaryllis.” Reaper’s voice was gentle. “Look at me.”
