That earned her a genuine smile—the first she’d seen from him since they’d walked into this nightmare.
“There he is,” she murmured, tracing the curve of his bottom lip with her thumb. “My Elliot.”
Something shifted in his expression at the word “my,” a flicker of heat that made her pulse quicken. But before eitherof them could explore that dangerous territory, a wet, rattling cough echoed from Tyler’s quarantine area.
Reality crashed back over them like a bucket of ice water.
Rue’s heart sank as Tyler’s labored breathing filled the silence. The moment of connection with Elliot—fragile and precious—crumbled under the weight of their reality. She reluctantly shifted off his lap, her ankle protesting as she settled beside him against the wall.
Tyler’s condition had worsened. Even through the plastic sheeting, she could see the black veins had spread further up his neck.
“How long does he have?” she asked quietly.
Irina looked up from Tyler’s bedside, her usually composed features drawn with exhaustion and something that looked like defeat. “Hours, maybe less. The pathogen is attacking his cardiovascular system. I can make him comfortable, but...”
She didn’t need to finish.
It was going to be a long night for everyone but Tyler.
thirty-two
The only thingDom loved more than sex was breaching a door in hostile territory.
The rush of adrenaline hit his bloodstream like liquid lightning as he pressed his back against the metal wall, weapon ready. Griffin flanked him on the right, Sabin on the left, and four other operatives stacked behind them in perfect formation. In these moments, Dom felt most alive, most himself. No boardroom meetings, no mission planning, no strategic analysis. Just action and reaction, pure as instinct.
We’re coming, Elliot.
In three…
Two…
The charge blew with a percussive thump that Dom felt in his chest more than heard. White-hot light sliced through the twilight as the side wall of the Thwaites research facility disintegrated into a shower of ice and metal fragments.
“Go, go, go!” Dom shouted, barreling through the smoking breach before the debris had even settled.
A Praetorian guard materialized from behind an equipment rack, weapon already raised. Dom squeezed off three quickshots. The man’s chest erupted in crimson mist as he crumpled to the floor.
“Left side clear!” Dom shouted, already moving to the next position.
Griffin flanked his right, rifle up, sweeping the room in tight, efficient arcs. “Tango down at your three o’clock.”
Another shot cracked through the confined space, the sound amplified by metal walls. Dom’s ears rang despite the suppressors. He pivoted, catching a glimpse of Sabin dropping a guard, the blade in his hand flashing once before disappearing into the man’s throat.
“Show-off,” Dom muttered, but couldn’t help the grim smile that tugged at his mouth. The Cajun had a flair for the dramatic that would’ve been annoying if it wasn’t so damned effective.
“Aw, you love me,mon ami.”
“You’re enjoying this too much,” Griffin muttered as they advanced down the corridor.
Sabin flashed him a grin. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
An alarm blared to life overhead, its wail cutting through the building like a knife. Footsteps pounded in the distance. More guards responding to the breach.
Perfect. Let them come.
Somewhere in this frozen hellhole, his brother was fighting for his life. And Dom would drop every Praetorian son of a bitch standing between them. He didn’t care how many it took, didn’t care how much blood stained the ice, didn’t care if he burned this whole station to the ground.
We’re here, Elliot. Just hold on.
