She ran like a SEAL medic again, calculating angles, counting bodies, mapping exits. She veered left toward the side of the building, slipping between the generator units. The men followed, one calling out something in a language Eva instantly recognized, a dialect used by certain paramilitary contractors in Afghanistan.
Her blood ran cold. These weren’t random attackers. These were the same type of men who wiped out her team.
She skidded to a halt behind an air vent, chest heaving. They found her. Already.
Before she could strategize a next move, the rooftop door burst open overhead.
«Evie, get down!»
The voice wasn’t angry or scared or confused. It was commanding. The Admiral.
She dropped instantly. A single suppressed shot cracked through the air: sharp, quick, precise. One attacker fell.
The other three ducked for cover, scattering into blind spots around the parking lot.
«Evac her now!» the Admiral shouted into his comms.
Heavy boots pounded the rooftop stairs as two SEAL operators sprinted down toward her position. Eva wiped the sweat from her brow, her breathing ragged, adrenaline burning through her veins. The Admiral reached her first, grabbing her by the arm, not harshly, but with urgency.
«Weston, listen to me. Your firing was staged,» he said. «We needed you isolated. The hunters were already moving.»
She stared at him, stunned. «You used me as bait?»
«They were going to find you either way,» he said quietly. «This way, we control where the fight happens.»
Her stomach twisted; anger mixed with understanding, fear mixed with a familiar thrill she thought she’d buried in the sand.
«Where’s the SEAL I saved?» she asked.
«Inside,» the Admiral said. «He’s awake, and he’s not staying in that bed.»
The Admiral glanced toward the van. «He told us everything. The men who hit him last night were part of the same group that attacked your unit in Afghanistan.»
Eva breathed out slowly. Not fear. Recognition. They’d finally come.
The Admiral motioned to his men. «Secure the perimeter. I want visual on every exit point.»
Two operators fanned out, squeezing triggers on handheld devices. Silent alarms tripped. Doors locked. Emergency shutters began to lower around the loading dock.
Eva blinked. «You planned the whole building? As a trap?»
«Yes,» the Admiral said. «This place is a maze. We know it inside out. They don’t.»
Her pulse stuttered. Everything was happening so fast she barely registered the shift. She was no longer prey running from shadows.
She was bait standing in the center of a battlefield designed for one purpose: to eliminate a kill squad. Footsteps echoed behind them. Eva turned just in time to see the wounded SEAL, bandaged chest, trembling legs, walking out of the ambulance bay with a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen since Afghanistan.
Not fear. Rage.
«Doc,» he said, voice rough. «You saved me once. Let me save you now.»
She shook her head instinctively. «You shouldn’t be walking.»
«And you shouldn’t be alive,» he replied. «But here you are.»
Their eyes met for a moment. Two ghosts pulled back into a war they never truly escaped. Something clicked in Eva’s chest. A gear she thought had rusted shut.
The Admiral tapped his earpiece. «They’re inside. East wing hallway. Moving fast.»
The SEAL’s jaw tightened. «They’re here for her.»
«No,» Eva said. «They’re here because we’re letting them be.»
The Admiral looked at her, surprised at the steel in her voice. She took a breath. «I’ll lead them.»
The Admiral grabbed her arm. «No, Weston. You’re the target, not the shield.»
«Exactly,» she whispered. «They won’t expect me to walk toward them.»
The wounded SEAL stepped closer, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. «You sure you’re ready for this?» he asked.
Eva stared past him toward the hospital entrance, shadows moving inside, shapes shifting through the frosted glass, footsteps closing in. Her pulse steadied. Her breathing slowed. Her past aligned with her present.
«I didn’t survive Afghanistan to die running,» she said. «Let’s finish what they started.»
The Admiral nodded once. «Then let’s end this tonight.»
A distorted voice crackled through the hospital’s PA system, a male voice she hadn’t heard since the night her team died. «Eva Weston, we’ve been waiting.»
The PA system crackled again, the distorted voice vibrating through the vents, the walls, the floors beneath their boots.
«Eva Weston, you survived once. Not tonight.»
The Admiral stiffened, eyes narrowing as he traced the direction of the sound. «East Wing Speaker. They’ve hijacked the internal system.»
Eva’s stomach tightened, not from fear, but memory. That voice wasn’t just familiar. It was burned into her bones from the last night in Afghanistan.
It belonged to a man who was supposed to be buried under rubble, a man who ordered her team’s execution. The Admiral’s hand hovered near his radio.
«All units, hunters have access to comms. Mask your movements.»
The wounded SEAL, Reid, shifted beside her, clutching his bandaged ribs but standing tall anyway. He wasn’t supposed to be out of bed. He wasn’t supposed to move. But he was here, jaw tight with vengeance.
«Where do you want me?» Reid asked.
Eva turned toward the reflective surface of the ambulance bay window. Their reflections looked like ghosts preparing to fight their own deaths.
«Opposite corridors,» she said. «They’ll expect me to run or hide, not walk straight into the kill zone.»
Reid breathed a dry laugh. «You haven’t changed.»
«No,» she whispered. «I just stopped pretending.»
Inside the hospital, the fluorescent lights flickered like candles in a breeze. Someone had already tampered with the power grid. Shadows stretched across the white tiles as backup generators kicked in with a low, rhythmic hum.
The Admiral led them through the staff-only corridor, each step echoing with tension. Silent alarms triggered automatically, locking certain doors and funneling anyone inside toward the pre-set choke points. Blood pressure cuffs hung from walls.
Abandoned carts lay sideways. A coffee mug rolled across the floor, still warm. Whoever dropped it ran fast.
«They’re pushing staff into safe zones,» the Admiral muttered, checking the security monitor feed flickering on his wrist device. «Good. Fewer civilians in the kill path.»
Eva stopped suddenly. A trail of wet footprints, the kind made by soft-soled tactical boots, cut across the floor, leading into radiology. She felt it. The old instinct.
Combat awareness. Medical intuition. That eerie sixth sense she tried to bury.
«We go there,» she whispered.
The Admiral frowned. «Why?»
«Because that’s where they want me.» She pointed at the footprints. «They didn’t hide their path. That’s deliberate.»
Reid scanned the walls, breathing sharp. «So they think you’ll walk into it.»
Eva shook her head slowly. «No, they think I’ll run from it.»
But she stepped forward anyway. The corridor tightened, becoming narrower, darker. Only emergency lights pulsed red against the walls, smearing everything in bloody hues. Every footstep echoed like a countdown.
Halfway down the hallway, the first sign of danger appeared. A metal door slightly ajar, a faint shadow behind it. The Admiral raised his fist. His men froze.