Miller stepped past my row, his rifle scanning the far wall.
I stepped out behind him, grabbed the barrel of his rifle, and shoved it violently upward. As the weapon fired harmlessly into the ceiling, I drove the palm of my hand into his face, shattering his nose. He dropped like a stone.
Hayes spun around at the sound of the gunshot.
“Miller!” he yelled, aiming his flashlight.
He caught me in the beam for a fraction of a second.
I didn't run. I charged directly into the light.
Hayes panicked and fired, but his aim was rushed. The bullet shattered the plastic casing of a server rack to my left.
I closed the distance, stepped inside his guard, and executed the exact same throw I had used on Trent the day before. I grabbed his wrist, pivoted, and threw him forcefully into the metal wall.
He collapsed, groaning in pain, his rifle clattering across the floor.
I picked up his weapon, checked the chamber, and walked out through the smoke-filled doorway into the corridor.
The alarms were blaring now. The entire facility was waking up.
I made my way up the stairs toward the command center. I moved deliberately, my weapon raised, my eyes scanning the corners. But no one challenged me. The regular security guards were confused, running toward the explosion in the basement.
I reached the command center on the third floor.
The glass door was shattered.
I stepped inside, my rifle sweeping the room.
It was empty.
Trent’s chair was pushed back. The monitors were flashing red with system alerts. He had seen me take down his men on the cameras, and he had run.
I lowered the rifle.
It didn't matter.
Outside the facility, the distant, rhythmic thumping of heavy helicopter rotors began to echo through the Colorado mountains.
The DOD didn't waste time when they received actionable intelligence on a rogue mercenary cell.
I walked over to the shattered window and looked out over the compound.
Three black tactical helicopters were descending rapidly toward the main courtyard, their searchlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating the panicked instructors running across the grass.
I watched as heavily armed federal agents swarmed the facility, securing the perimeter, screaming orders.
I saw a figure sprinting toward the perimeter fence, trying to slip into the tree line.
It was Trent.
A spotlight from one of the helicopters snapped onto him, blinding him in a circle of brilliant white light. Three laser sights appeared on his chest. He stopped running, slowly raising his hands in defeat, his arrogant empire crumbling into dust.
I watched him drop to his knees in the grass.
I placed Hayes’s rifle on the command center desk and turned away from the window.
For the first time in three years, the heavy, suffocating weight in my chest was gone. I had found the leak. I had survived the trap.
I walked out of the command center and down the hallway, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance.
I wasn't Riley Vance anymore.
And I wasn't hiding anymore.
THE END