Page 28 of Echo: Burn
"They didn't."
"They never do." Stryker's jaw tightens. "That's why what you're doing tomorrow—walking back into Whitefish, making yourself visible—that's either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. I haven't decided which."
"Maybe both." I finish my weapons check. "But I'm done being hunted. If I'm going to die, I'd rather it be on my terms."
"Kane won't let you die." The certainty in his voice surprises me. "He came for you in a blizzard when the smart play was staying dark. He brought you here when we should've sent you running. Whatever else happens, he's not going to let the Committee take you."
I think about Kane's hand on my face, his thumb tracing my jaw, the moment that almost happened before the comm interrupted.
"It's not like that," I say.
"Isn't it?" Stryker's grin is knowing. "Doc, I've known Kane for a long time. Served with him through hell that would break most men. I've never seen him look at someone the way he looks at you."
"He barely knows me."
"Sometimes knowing someone has nothing to do with time." Stryker stands, gathering his gear. "Sometimes you just recognize something in another person. Something that matters."
He leaves before I can formulate a response, his words echoing in the armory's silence.
By 0445, the team is assembled in the war room. Kane stands at the map table, already in full tactical gear. His burns catch the harsh light, tissue pulled tight across his neck and jaw. Mercer and Rourke flank him, both checking weapons with automatic precision. Sarah sits at a console despite her injuries, fingers flying across keys. Even Khalid is there, watching with those ancient eyes.
Odin lies at the teenager's feet, the dog's presence somehow grounding in the chaos.
Kane's eyes find mine as I enter. Recognition passes between us—not just acknowledgment, but the ghost of that almost-kiss we both know can't happen.
"Listen up," Kane begins. "The Committee's activated Protocol Seven with a seventy-six-hour countdown. That means we have approximately seventy-two hours left before they execute everyone on their list. Dr. Hart is number twelve. We're all on there somewhere."
He pulls up satellite imagery on the main screen. "The plan is simple. Dr. Hart returns to her clinic in Whitefish at 0900. She's loud, visible, and acts exactly like a civilian who doesn't understand the danger she's in. She files a report with animal control about Odin's injuries and the chemical compounds she detected. She makes calls to veterinary colleagues about the unusual case. She creates a paper trail that makes her too public to disappear quietly."
"And when the Committee responds?" Mercer asks.
"We respond faster." Kane zooms in on the clinic's location. "Overwatch positions here, here, and here. Stryker and Rourke on rooftops with clear sightlines. I’ll be mobile in a vehicle. Mercer will be at the clinic posing as a pharmaceutical rep. Tommy runs surveillance from here, monitoring all communications."
"What about Cray?" I hear myself ask. "The cleaner they brought in?"
"Cray's the wildcard." Kane's expression darkens. "He's a ghost. No pattern, no signature, no predictable methodology. He could be anyone, anywhere. Which is why we're wired for full tactical response. The second anything feels wrong, we extract and abort."
"And if I don't agree to abort?" The question comes out harder than intended.
Kane's jaw tightens. "Then we have a problem."
"We already have a problem." I move to the map table. "The Committee has chemical weapons. They're willing to kill dozens of people to hide it. One more body won't matter to them. So respectfully, Commander, if this operation has any chance of exposing them, I'm not aborting because you get nervous."
The room goes silent. Every eye turns to me.
"Doc...” Stryker starts.
"And I mean what I said. I'll follow reasonable tactical orders. But I won't run just because the plan gets complicated."
Kane stares at me for a long moment. His expression shifts. Respect, maybe. Or recognition. "Fair enough. But understand this—if Cray shows his face, if we get compromised, if anything goes sideways, you follow my orders without question. I don't care if you think it's reasonable. I don't care if you disagree. In the moment, my word is law. Are we clear?"
The command in his voice brooks no argument. This isn't Kane the man who almost kissed me. This is Kane the operator who's kept his team alive through impossible odds.
"Crystal," I say.
"Good." He returns to the map. "Tommy, show her the equipment."
Tommy produces a small case filled with electronics. "Tracking devices in your clothing, your shoes, even embedded in your belt. GPS accurate to three meters. We'll know exactly where you are at all times."
