Chapter 10 - BrothersDaniel Mercer contacted Cole before we could find him.
My first symptom was pressure in my head.
Then lightness.
Then the instinctive desire to breathe deeper.
Bad idea.
Cross attacked the door panel.
“No response.”
Briggs’s agent tried the emergency release.
Nothing.
Cole pointed toward ceiling.
Ventilation duct.
Too small.
Cross shouted, “Maintenance tunnel!”
“Where?”
He pointed toward far wall.
We moved.
Smoke thickened.
Not combustion smoke.
Chemical vapor from overheated electronics.
Still dangerous.
Briggs’s younger agent stumbled.
I caught him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He wasn’t.
His lips were already losing color.
Hypoxia.
We had maybe two minutes before coordination deteriorated significantly.
Cross found a metal access panel.
Locked.
Cole kicked it.
Nothing.
Again.
His sutures tore.
Blood darkened his gown.
“Stop.”
He ignored me.
Third kick.
Panel bent.
Cross used a tool to pry it.
I checked the agent.
Pulse too fast.
“Move!”
Panel opened.
Behind it, a narrow tunnel.
One at a time.
Briggs sent his agent first.
Then Cole.
I pushed Cross toward opening.
He shook his head.
“You.”
“Go.”
“Maya.”
“We don’t have time.”
His expression shifted.
Seven years vanished again.
Commander and medic.
He knew exactly what I was doing.
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“No one left behind.”
I almost laughed.
“You taught me that.”
“I taught you badly.”
He grabbed my arm.
“You go first.”
Then the ceiling cracked.
A support section fell.
Cross shoved me away.
Metal slammed down.
He disappeared beneath it.
“Ethan!”
Cole crawled back through tunnel.
I dropped beside Cross.
A beam pinned his leg.
Briggs helped.
Too heavy.
Cross shouted, “Leave!”
“No.”
“Maya!”
“Shut up.”
Cole wedged a pipe beneath beam.
Briggs pushed.
I pulled Cross.
Nothing.
Air thinner.
My vision narrowed.
Cole repositioned.
Again.
Beam lifted half an inch.
Enough.
I dragged Cross free.
His leg was broken.
Badly.
He screamed.
We moved him into tunnel.
Last.
Always last.
That was the medic’s curse.
Briggs crawled ahead.
I followed Cross.
Halfway through, my arms began shaking.
My body wanted to stop.
Cole reached backward.
Grabbed my wrist.
Pulled.
We emerged into an old boiler room.
Fresh air.
I collapsed.
For several seconds, all I heard was my own breathing.
Then Cole rolled onto his back laughing silently.
I started laughing too.
Completely inappropriate.
Perfectly necessary.
Briggs called for rescue.
Cross lay against wall.
His face was pale.
I crawled to him.
“Let me see.”
Compound fracture.
I stabilized it.
He watched me work.
“You became a good nurse.”
“I was always good.”
He smiled.
“There she is.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t make me like you again.”
His smile faded.
“I don’t deserve that.”
That honesty hurt more than excuses would have.
Security reached us ten minutes later.
The federal raid on Voss’s data center happened simultaneously.
Voss had escaped.
Of course.
Men like him always had exits.
But the facility contained enough evidence to expose Apex Meridian’s involvement.
Servers.
Emails.
Payment records.
Derek’s transactions.
Hospital manipulation.
Janus acquisition plans.
For the first time, we had something larger than classified rumors.
We had evidence.
Keller remained missing.
Cross went into surgery.
Cole needed fifteen additional stitches.
I was placed on administrative leave.
Technically, because I had participated in a federal incident.
Unofficially, because hospital administrators had watched footage of their “rookie nurse” disarming Derek and helping raid a secret laboratory beneath their morgue.
Hard to return to medication rounds after that.
The next morning, I sat in the cafeteria drinking coffee.
Melissa approached.
She looked terrible.
“Can I sit?”
“Sure.”
She sat.
For a while she said nothing.
Then:
“I deleted the video.”
“What video?”
“The one of you and Cole.”
“Okay.”
“And the earlier ones.”
I looked at her.
She swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
I waited.
“I thought it was funny. The rookie thing.”
“I know.”
“Derek said you were arrogant.”
“I know.”
“We didn’t even know you.”
“No.”
Her eyes filled slightly.
“I could’ve gotten that patient hurt.”
That mattered.
I softened.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“I reported everything to HR.”
“Good.”
“I also told Tasha I participated.”
That surprised me.
“You didn’t have to tell me.”
“I wanted to.”
I took another sip.
“Then do better.”
She nodded.
“I will.”
That was enough.
No dramatic forgiveness.
No friendship montage.
Just accountability.
Cole entered cafeteria wearing hospital pants and a T-shirt someone found.
He sat across from me.
Melissa stood.
“I’ll go.”
Cole signed:
She apologized?
“Yes.”
You forgive her?
“Eventually.”
He nodded approvingly.
Then:
Coffee terrible.
“It’s hospital coffee.”
Weapon.
I smiled.
For a moment things felt normal.
Then Briggs arrived.
Normal ended.
“We found something.”
He sat.
“Voss’s servers contained communications from an internal source.”
“Keller?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Briggs looked at Cole.
“Someone using Bishop’s authentication.”
Cole stared.
Impossible.
“Apparently not.”
Briggs placed photographs on table.
Surveillance images.
A man entering Voss’s facility.
Tall.
Athletic.
Face partially hidden.
But I recognized the posture before the face.
Night Cell training.
Cross had taught us to walk that way while carrying concealed equipment.
“Who is he?”
Briggs pushed another image.
Clearer.
Cole stopped moving.
His face lost color.
He signed one name.
Daniel Mercer.
“Your brother?” I asked.
Cole nodded.
“Military?”
His hands moved slowly.
SEAL.
“What happened to him?”
Cole looked at photograph.
He died nine years ago.
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because apparently no one connected to Night Cell stayed dead.
Briggs opened another folder.
“According to Voss’s records, Daniel Mercer wasn’t just alive.”
He looked at us.
“He was running Apex’s Janus recovery operation.”
Cole stared at his supposedly dead brother.
Then something in his expression changed.
Pain became anger.
He stood.
I grabbed his arm.
“Cole.”
He signed:
He knew I was on that boat.
“Yes.”
He attacked me anyway.
We didn’t know that.
But he did.
Brothers know things facts take longer to prove.
Cole turned toward door.
“Where are you going?”
He signed:
Find him.
“Not alone.”
He stared at me.
I realized what I had said.
Cole lifted one eyebrow.
I sighed.
“Don’t.”
He smiled.
May you like
Sparrow never goes alone.
This time, I didn’t correct him.
