Page 9 of Echo: Burn
"How many?" he asks.
Whatever the answer is, it's not good. When he meets my eyes, I see the truth before he speaks it.
"They're not waiting for Protocol Seven to start." His voice is flat, controlled. "They're coming for you now."
3
WILLA
The words hang in the air like a death sentence. ‘They're coming for you now.’
My medical training kicks in before panic can. Heart rate elevated but controlled. Breathing steady. Hands that just finished suturing Kane's wound don't shake. Dad's voice echoes in my head: ‘Fear is just information, baby girl. Use it or it uses you.’
I'm using it.
"How long?" I ask, surprised by how level my voice sounds. Around me, the men of Echo Ridge move with a precision that’s still new to me. I’ve only just stepped into their world, and already they’re planning how to keep me alive.
Kane checks his watch. "Twenty minutes. Maybe a little more with the storm."
"Then we need to move." The stocky one crosses to a weapons rack, selecting rifles with casual efficiency. "Tommy, what's their approach vector?"
The voice crackles back. "Highway 93, both directions. Two teams, six operators each. The Committee's not messing around—these are Tier One assets."
Kane’s jaw tightens. “Protocol Seven in action. They’re wiping the board—every name, every safe house, everyone tied to Odin. She’s on their primary list.”
"Fuck." The lean, feral one spits the word. "They're sending the varsity squad."
"Language." Rourke's voice is quiet but firm. "We have a civilian and a minor present."
The feral one shoots him a look that could cut glass but says nothing.
Kane moves to a tactical map spread across a metal table, and despite everything—the fear, the adrenaline, the knowledge that trained killers are coming—I notice the way he moves. Controlled power in every gesture, nothing wasted. The burns on his neck catch the harsh light, tissue pulled tight and shiny. The scars should make him ugly. Instead, they make him real in a way that's almost painful to witness.
I look away before he catches me staring.
"They'll be searching a ten-mile grid pattern." Kane's finger traces routes on the map. "They tracked her general direction into the mountains but lost her in the storm. They're hunting blind."
"So we let them find something." The stocky one chambers a round with a dangerous smile. "Just not what they're looking for."
"Stryker." Kane's tone carries warning. "We intercept at the outer perimeter. Keep them miles away from discovering this place."
"Exactly what I meant." Stryker jerks his chin toward me. "She saved the dog. That makes her worth protecting."
The casual claim should offend me. Instead, something warm unfurls in my chest. After six years of looking over my shoulder, wondering if Jack would find me, someone I just metin a blizzard is standing between me and monsters I didn’t know existed yesterday.
"I can shoot." The words come out before I think them through. "My father made sure of it."
Five pairs of eyes turn to me. Six, counting Khalid, who's still got his fingers buried in Odin's fur.
"Doc." Kane's voice is gentle. "This isn't the shooting range. These are professionals coming to kill you."
"I know." My hands find Odin's collar. "I killed one of them already tonight. Ran him down like roadkill on Highway 93. I can still feel the impact through the steering wheel."
The memory chokes me. My stomach lurches.
Kane is suddenly there, one scarred hand steady on my shoulder. "Breathe through it. The first one is always the hardest."
"How many people have you killed?"
