Page 151 of Breaking Storm

Masked figures rushed forward through the production lines, white coats flashing between the vats while a handful of rifles came up in shaking hands.

Daven fired twice.

Two armed men dropped between the processing vats. One crashed into a metal support, sending sealed vials skidding across the floor.

Vandor hit the ground beside him and fired into the narrow space between the tables, dropping another man before he could get a clean shot off.

More figures poured in from the outer walkways.

Daven looked up, tracking the movement spreading across the platform. “How the fuck are there so many?”

Vandor fired again, then caught one by the shoulder and shoved him back hard enough to tear the mask loose.

It came away sideways, revealing a hard jaw, old scar tissue, and black ink crawling up the man’s throat.

Vandor’s expression changed. “These aren’t rebels. They’re hired muscle.”

Daven’s stomach dropped. “Of course they brought mercs.” His smile came back, meaner this time. “Good.”

For a second, his fingers brushed the inside of his wrist. The bond throbbed once, then harder, urgent enough to make his stomach turn.

Don’t come searching for me, baby, he thought. Please. Not this time.

Lightning exploded across the storm above them and wind howled through the open structure, rattling the metal framework as the platform shuddered under the pressure.

Daven reloaded quickly. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Vandor stepped back beside him, scanning the chamber while another burst of gunfire cracked across the production floor. “Your optimism continues to impress me.”

“It’s a gift.”

Gunfire erupted again, and the storm platform dissolved into chaos.

◦ *

◦

Gunfire echoed across the platform while storm wind howled through the open structure, whipping chemical vapor across the production floor.

Daven dropped behind a stack of cargo crates as rifle fire ripped through the metal rail beside him hard enough to shower sparks across his shoulder.

More white masks poured into the chamber.

He dragged in a breath, pulse hammering hard enough to make his fingers twitch around the grip of his gun. He’d already lost track of how long they’d been fighting.

How the fuck were there still more of them?

The bond pulsed faintly again.

Stay safe, baby. Just stay alive until I get back to you.

Vandor hit the ground beside him, dropped one of the mercs in the narrow gap between the tanks, then slid into cover at Daven’s side. Daven leaned out and fired twice. One went down. The other vanished behind the tables.

Gunfire cracked back hard enough to drive him into cover again.

“They’re closing in,” Vandor said, breathing harder now.

Daven wiped rain and sweat from his brow. “I noticed.”