Page 101 of Echo: Burn
"Did we?" Kane turns away from the screen, and I see the hollowness in his eyes. "Because from where I'm standing, we traded one of our own for a bunch of politicians who'll never know his name. Never know what he sacrificed. Never know that Alex Mercer is being tortured right now because we chose to save them instead of him."
"That's not how it works," Stryker says firmly. "We didn't choose between Mercer and the mission. Kessler took him. That's on the Committee, not on us."
"Is it?" Kane's voice is quiet. Dangerous. "Because I'm the one who let Kessler live. I'm the one who showed mercy when professional assessment said eliminate the threat. And now Mercer's paying the price for my conscience."
"You saved thousands of lives today," I tell him, moving to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at me instead of the screen. "Thousands of people who'll go home tonight, kiss their families, live their lives—because of what we did. Because of what Mercer helped us accomplish before they took him."
"Doesn't bring him home."
"No," I agree. "But it means his sacrifice mattered. It means when we get him back—and we will get him back—he'll know that what he endured saved innocent lives. That has to count for something."
Kane is quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. Looking for absolution I can't give. Looking for some way to balance the equation of lives saved versus teammate lost.
Finally, he nods once. Not acceptance. Just acknowledgment.
"Tommy," he says, voice hardening back into command mode. "I want continuous monitoring on every Committee communication channel. Any mention of Mercer, any request for interrogation resources, any facility that goes dark—you flag it immediately."
"Already running," Tommy confirms.
"Good." Kane looks around at all of us. "We stopped one attack today. Saved thousands of lives. But we lost one of our own doing it. So we don't celebrate. We don't rest easy. We plan. We adapt. And we bring Alex Mercer home. Whatever it takes. However long it takes."
"Hooah," Stryker says quietly.
The rest of it echo it.
The inauguration coverage continues on screen, showing the peaceful transfer of power, the crowds celebrating, the democracy we protected without anyone knowing it needed protecting.
We saved them all.
But the victory tastes like ash when I look at Kane's face and see the guilt destroying him from the inside.
In Kane's quarters—our quarters—later that evening, the weight of failure settles over both of us. Not just physical fatigue from the operation, but something deeper. The soul-crushing knowledge that we were so close and Kessler still won this round.
"He wanted me to see it," Kane says quietly. We're lying in bed, neither of us sleeping despite the exhaustion. His voice is hollow, carrying the weight of too many failures. "Wanted me to watch him take Mercer. Wanted me to feel helpless. Just likeHart felt helpless when my team destroyed his credibility and threatened his daughter."
"You're not helpless," I counter firmly. "You're planning. Adapting. That's what you do. That's what makes you dangerous."
"While Mercer's being interrogated. Tortured. Broken down piece by piece." His voice cracks slightly, and I hear the guilt bleeding through. "Because I left Kessler alive. Because I wanted to prove I'd changed. That I wasn't the man who threatened your father."
"Kane...”
"I made a choice," he interrupts, and I can hear him spiraling into self-recrimination. "Outside that burning facility, I had a clean shot. Could have ended him. Should have ended him. Professional assessment said eliminate the threat. But I wanted to be better. Wanted to show you I'd changed from the man I was in Yemen." He turns to look at me, and I see the guilt destroying him. "And Mercer's paying the price for my conscience. For my need to prove I'm not a monster."
"That's not how it works," I say firmly, refusing to let him carry this alone. "You made a tactical decision in the moment based on incomplete information. Kessler made his own choices about how to respond. You don't control his actions. You don't control the Committee's operations. You control your own choices, and showing mercy—trying to be better than you were—that's not weakness. That's growth."
"But growth doesn't bring Mercer home. Doesn't undo what's happening to him right now."
The guilt in his voice is crushing. I've seen Kane face impossible odds, overwhelming enemy forces, near-certain death. He never breaks. Never falters. Never shows weakness.
But this—knowing his choice led directly to Mercer's capture, knowing that his teammate is being tortured because he chosemercy over mission completion—is destroying him from the inside.
"Then we fix it," I say, rolling over to face him directly. "We find Mercer. We bring him home. And yes, when we do, you deal with Kessler. Permanently this time. Not because you're the man you were in Yemen. Not because you're reverting to old patterns. But because you're the man you are now—someone who protects his team at any cost. Someone who learns from mistakes without letting guilt paralyze him."
He's quiet for a long moment, and I can see him processing my words. Weighing them against the internal monologue of self-blame.
"I'm going to kill him, Willa," he finally says, and his voice carries absolute certainty. No doubt. No hesitation. "When we find Mercer, when we extract him from whatever hole they've put him in, I'm going to make sure Kessler doesn't walk away. No mercy. No second chances. No trying to prove I'm better than I was. Just final solution. Just ending the threat permanently."
"I know," I say. "And I'll be right there with you. Because that's not you reverting to who you were. That's you becoming who you need to be to protect the people you love."
