Summer followed Mac through a narrow concrete tunnel, the scent of combustion lingering on the air, images of T-ball’s body beneath the rubble haunting her vision like the afterimage of a bright light.

It was her fault he was dead. Not directly—she hadn’t killed him—but if she’d never hired HERO Force, that man would be alive. It was a heavy burden, even a pinch of responsibility for taking a human life, her conscience creaking under the weight of it like a floor that might collapse.

This must be what Luke feels like every day, only worse.

Jeez, that gave her a new perspective. She knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her brother, but this was the first time she’d managed to truly have sympathy for him. No, it was empathy. The tiniest little taste of what he lived with every day. It must be very hard.

Harder still because she was here, because of the chemistry between them, the living, breathing attraction that came to life whenever they were in the same room. Even in the chopper she’d been aware of him, no matter she’d been so angry she could have slapped him silly. She wanted to hate him. She should hate him. She’d spent the better part of her time since their talk trying to do just that, but she was having trouble.

She was following Mac through a concrete labyrinth, but in her mind she was back in Luke’s arms, their mouths connecting them more deeply than a simple touch, her soul seeming to dance with his as she felt his warm, strong body pressed against hers.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

Talk about a disaster waiting to happen.

There was no future for the two of them together, no happy ending on the horizon. How could there be, after Edward?

There might not be a future for any of us outside of this hole in the ground.

There was a fundamental truth in that thought. Life was short. You had to spend it wisely, make the most of every chance you’d been given.

And I want to spend more of it with Luke.

She didn’t have the energy to question her need, all her attention focused on her very survival. This tunnel was heading somewhere bad and it was going to end soon, Luke and her father and Walsh and his men on the other side. Her father. She hoped he was all right. The medicine he needed to stay alive was tucked into her pocket, hidden by the bottom of the bulletproof vest she wore.

Just ahead, a thick steel door stood ajar, an eerie blue light shining around it, and the frightening visual it made hauled her back to the present. Mac pulled it open and she followed him, knowing they were nearing the end of this limbo and suspecting they were heading headfirst into hell.

Ten feet in front of them, the tunnel ended in light. “Ready?” asked Mac quietly.

“As I’ll ever be.”

A cool breeze blew toward her face. It smelled of earth and a tinge of exhaust. Metal girders came into view through the final opening. They stepped out onto a small railed platform, a momentary awe overwhelming her as she took in the width and height of the silo, a large round opening in each of many floors like a giant circular elevator shaft.

This was where the missile had been kept, vertical and ready to launch. A throwback to a different time, when tension between two world powers made men dig deep to house destructive forces. The scale of it was frightening, the purpose of the structure seeming to haunt the space, still.

A deep voice beside her made her jump. “Hold it right there, you two.”

She turned slowly around, her heart skipping like a rabbit’s when she saw the rifle pointed at her and the man holding it. Another man appeared as if by magic, taking Mac’s weapon before patting them each down for more. He turned her around and shoved her toward an open metal staircase. “Walk.”

There was blood on the landing but she made herself move, her senses hypervigilant as she scanned the silo. A whooshing noise caught her attention and she peered over the edge to see where it came from.

An oscillating friction accelerator filled the center of the space, its stainless-steel arms moving like Medusa’s snakes. But more important, her father, Luke, and Steven Walsh were also there. Her father was slumped in a chair, whether barely alive or already dead she couldn’t tell for certain.

Dizziness assaulted her and she stumbled to the side, her hip crashing into the metal handrail in the same place the table hit her yesterday, pain radiating outward, white-hot and bright.

“Stand the fuck up,” said the guard, jabbing her in the small of her back with what felt like the tip of his gun.

There’s blood on my shoes. A person’s blood on the bottoms of my shoes.

My father might be dead.

She wondered if she was losing it as she descended the final flight of stairs and stood in front of her dad.

His eyes were slits in his swollen face, his attention clearly on her. Her shoulders dropped, relief flooding through her. He was alive, for now. “His medication is in my pocket.” She looked from one man to another, the man who marched her down the steps, Luke, then finally Walsh, who scrunched up his face.

“Not just yet,” he said. “We have a few things to discuss before we go rescuing anyone. Okay, pumpkin?”

Her throat convulsed, her words fighting to get out. “He has a clotting disorder of the blood. Look at him! He isn’t well. He could have a pulmonary embolism or a stroke. He was supposed to take his pills more than twelve hours ago. He needs them now.”

“And I need to right the balance of the world gone wrong.”

She jerked her head back. “What are you talking about?”

“Not everything is about you!” He slapped her face and she stumbled, righting herself before she fell.

Walsh moved to her father. “Do you know what it did to me when you stole those patents? My mother just died the year before, and you pushed my father into the deep end of his mind. They took me away from him and put me in a place where boys like me get treated like garbage. You did that.” He turned to face Luke and gestured to Summer. “Do you like this woman?”

“Leave her alone.”

“Because I think she’s a self-centered whore. Definitely has no business in a managerial position.”

Summer stood between Luke and the stairs, ten feet separating her from each. She struggled to keep up with Walsh’s changing stream of consciousness.

“But alas, as the daughter of Jerome Daniels, you just had to have a job there, didn’t you?” Walsh walked behind her father and grabbed a fistful of his hair, lifting the old man’s head up as Daniels groaned. “Look at your daughter. I’m going to kill her to make up for everything you did to my father and me, and I want you to watch closely as she dies. Everybody paying attention now? You’re not going to want to miss this.”

Summer lifted her hands to protect herself from attack, but there was no one else around. Her eyes went from person to person, her heartbeat thumping in her ears. Her stare connected with Luke’s, and his shot upward, looking at something above her head.

“Get down!” he barked.

She dropped to the ground just as a beam of purple light focused on the floor several feet from where she’d been standing. “The brancium photon beam!” she yelled. It carried enough energy to kill her in seconds, boring a hole through her body as it vaporized tissue.

Luke fired his weapon three times in quick succession as she scrambled for cover. But as soon as she found it, she saw her father still strapped to the chair and the photon beam circling the floor of the missile silo, leaving burn marks on the concrete like a child’s giant marker. Walsh was on the floor, a bullet wound in his forehead.

“Daddy!”

“I’ve got him,” said Luke, rushing to his side. “Stay there.” He pulled out a knife and worked to cut through his bindings as the photon beam’s pattern inched closer to his outstretched feet.

“Lookout!” she called.

“I see it,” said Luke.

The beam reached her father’s foot just as Luke freed Daniels, the powerful energy setting his shoe on fire. Luke dragged him to safety behind a metal console and used an extinguisher to put out the flames, quickly removing the crying man’s shoe. “It’s okay. We’re going to get you out of here.”

“The hatch,” said Daniels. “Open the hatch.”

Summer looked up high, all the way to the top of the missile silo. She couldn’t even see the doors, but knew they must be there. But how could they get out with the photon beam ready to kill them all?

This is your baby.

She knew the accelerator at Daniels like the back of her hand. Unless Walsh had specifically asked for modifications, this one had to be similar or even identical, which meant the main power was located on the control board at the base of the steel trunk. But she’d have to cross the most dangerous part of the photon field to get there.

She didn’t hesitate. “You open the doors,” she called to Luke. “I’ll stop the accelerator photon beam.”

“Be careful!”

She ran past Walsh. The beam had crossed his body, completely severing it in two. She looked away and ran, hoping the photon beam didn’t swerve in her direction, but it did—forcing her to abruptly change directions and making her already injured ankle twist for the second time that week.

She gasped, falling to the ground. The purple beam was only three feet away and heading straight for her. She scooted backwards on her bottom, arms then legs, dragging herself away. But she wasn’t fast enough and there was no time to even attempt to stand.

A loud motorized noise echoed in the cavernous space, stretching on for long seconds with the whine of metal on metal. The hatch doors were opening.

The accelerator control panel was only a five or six feet away, with a small overhang of steel between the console and the floor, like a child-sized desk she could hide under. A sharp burning in her foot and she knew she’d been hit, quickly yanking back her leg and forcing her to move even faster, until she was safely under the metal and the photon beam disappeared above her.

She hugged her legs to herself for a long moment, then peeked out, seeing the beam across the room. She pulled herself up on her burned foot and cut the power to the machine.