Luke wiped the blood from his mouth and forced his injured leg to bear weight, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. T-ball was dead, Moto had a broken leg, and Razorback was barely conscious, leaving Luke the last man standing as he crossed into the heart of enemy territory. There was no question he would continue on. As long as there was life in his body, he would persevere.

He had to save Summer’s father or die trying, no matter the latter was now more likely. The blast that had destroyed the platform they stood on had also opened the door, allowing him access to a straight tunnel. He used the wall as a crutch, Moto’s assault rifle slung over his shoulder and Luke’s foot dragging behind him.

There was a sound in the distance, repetitive whirring that sounded as if it came from a wide-open space instead of a narrow passageway. A faint light illuminated the space, growing brighter as he forced his way forward. When a cool breeze kissed his skin, he knew he had reached the missile silo itself.

He limped to the edge of the corridor, three men coming into view. Two had weapons at their waists, the closest of the three turning to face him and drawing his gun. “Intruder!”

Luke fired, killing the two men closest to him as the third man attacked, knocking the rifle sideways and punching Luke in the gut. He swung his leg in a roundhouse kick that narrowly missed Luke’s head, but Luke grabbed the man’s ankle in his fist, the force of the man’s movements throwing Luke’s weight onto his injured leg, and he cried out, pushing the man away before lining up his shot and firing.

Luke’s blood dripped down his chin and he swiped at it, again limping forward to a railing some ten feet away, his view of the silo opening up wide. There were metal railings encircling a wide round space where the missile itself used to stand, floor after floor extending in either direction, a large machine spinning at the bottom of the column like a twisted amusement park ride. An open metal stairway connected the floors, about seven stories separating him from the bottom.

Fuck.

He prayed his leg would hold out and began his descent, searching vigilantly for tangos as he went but finding none. It was as if he was alone with the futuristic spinning machine, though he knew Walsh and Summer’s father were here somewhere.

Hopefully the old man was still alive.

He missed a step and his leg collapsed, making him fall half a flight to the metal landing. His jaw cracked on the steel handrail with a sickening thud, blood spraying from his mouth as he lost a tooth. He grabbed the handrail and pulled himself to a stand, cursing under his breath as he tested his weight on his bad leg once more.

It held.

He descended another flight, agony wrapping itself around his leg like a vine. His stare caught on a spot of yellow standing out from the ubiquitous gray metal that surrounded him. He forced his eyes to focus. There on the silo floor, just beneath the overhang from the floor above, was a white-haired man in a yellow shirt, tied to a chair.

It must be Summer’s father.

He was watching Luke with interest, his eyes full of caution and fear. He was older than Luke had been expecting, and he wondered at the man’s ability to climb the steps back to safety.

Hell, I wonder about my own.

Maybe he wasn’t supposed to walk out of here alive.

“Having a little trouble, are you?” called another man’s voice. Luke looked around but saw no one. “Take your time. We’re not going anywhere. Are we, Jerome?”

Luke was being played with and he knew it, which didn’t bode well. There would be no sneak attack. Walsh knew he was coming and could clearly see he was alone.

He thought of T-ball’s body beneath the rubble—another brother down, another man lost—and was filled with an anger far larger than his grief for one man. This was the angst he carried after so much death and destruction, the shadow entity that both haunted and sustained him. It was a rage, a horror, a deadly determination.

I’m going to get this sick-ass motherfucker if it’s the last thing I do.

He rounded the final corner to the silo floor, half a flight of stairs the only thing separating him from Summer’s father and the brancium.

“Welcome,” said the voice, clearly behind him.

Luke turned slowly around. There stood Steven Walsh. Luke raised his M4, pleased he would finally be able to put the bullet in Walsh’s brain he so rightfully deserved.

But Walsh raised his hands. “If you shoot me, Renaldo shoots Daniels. I don’t think you want that.”

Luke glanced at the old man. Sure enough, a brawny white guy with a bald head held a gun to Daniels’ temple. Walsh spoke behind him. “You aren’t going to get out of here without my permission. Not this time. You’ve already seen the power of my explosives, and there are more where those came from.”

“If you were able to stop me from getting here, you would have.”

“You’re assuming I didn’t want you here, but I did. It’s not every day I get to meet a Navy SEAL. You should have told me at AGL. I would have been impressed.”

Luke narrowed his eyes, his stomach twisting at this development. “How do you know who I am?”

“I have a friend at the Pentagon. After our last meeting, I decided to find out who Summer had allied herself with. Your tattoo told me just who to ask.”

The special warfare symbol on his forearm. An eagle, a trident, and a rifle. “I’m not a SEAL anymore.”

“We have friends in common. The Afghani rebels.”

Images flashed before Luke’s eyes, the soldiers overtaking their outpost, knowing Buckeye was in there but needing to blow everything up to stop them. “They’re not my friends.”

“No. I don’t imagine they consider you to be one, either, given they’ve offered me a great deal of money to bring your head—and only your head—to their leader. You killed his oldest son when you blew up that outpost.”

“Too bad you won’t be able to accommodate him.”

Walsh laughed, waving him away. “I didn’t say I would do it. War is a machine. We feed it and it continues to function. One man’s resolution is another’s inciting incident. The best you can hope for is to be on the right side at the right time. It’s a flourishing industry that’s very lucrative to be a part of.”

Luke’s mind tried out different scenarios. Walsh and the bald man were too far apart to be taken out together, and though Walsh hadn’t pulled a weapon, Luke could clearly see the gun holstered at the other man’s waist. Luke spit on the floor, his saliva bright red with blood.

Summer’s father groaned loudly, his voice full of pain.

Walsh snapped his fingers. “Quiet.”

Renaldo smashed the butt of his gun into the old man’s skull with a nauseating thud, but Daniels didn’t pass out. His moan turned to a yelp followed by a quiet whimper, making the fingers on Luke’s gun twitch with the need to defend him.

He had to get the upper hand. “He needs his meds. He’s going to stroke out without them. His breathing is labored. There are probably blood clots in his lungs. All it takes is one of them to go to his brain.”

“Do you think I care?”

“Yes. With that man alive, you have leverage over Summer. If he dies, you have nothing but a dead body. Give the man his meds.”

“My father is crazy as a hatter. Moments of clarity, entire chunks of time before he disappears beneath the water again. I wonder if Summer knows how good she has it.”

A chime sounded and Walsh withdrew a cell phone from his pocket, smiling at what he saw. “Speak of the devil. Summer is on her way through the tunnels. She should be here shortly.”

“That’s not possible.” She was on the chopper with Mac, who would never let her in here.

“I assure you, it is,” said Walsh. “See for yourself. No cell reception down here, but I do have excellent Wi-Fi.” He passed the phone to Luke. Sure enough, Summer and Mac appeared on the screen making their way through a concrete hallway.

Luke felt physically ill. He could barely hold up his own weight. How was he going to defend her?

“I called her,” said Walsh. “I accused her of lying to me and giving me the incorrect formula for Alloy 531. I told her I was going to kill her father. What choice did she have but to show me the error of my ways?”

He could imagine it happening, could see Summer’s reaction to that lie and her desperate need to come after him. Why the hell had Mac allowed it?

This was terrible.

“Of course, the formula is correct, but I’ll get the added advantage of killing two birds with one stone. I do so love efficiency.”