Sebastian's POV
The pain was dull now. Persistent, yes, but dulled by something stronger—rage, guilt, and the unbearable weight of her absence. She was gone. Taken from me. And I hadn't been strong enough to stop it. The bullet wound in my thigh throbbed with every heartbeat, but I refused to stay down. Vince argued. Evelyn begged. I didn't care. I'd lost too much already—Olivia wouldn't be another name on that list.
"They moved her to Facility Seven," Vince said, his voice tense as we huddled in an abandoned safe house on the outskirts of D.C. Rain pattered against the boarded windows, casting slivers of shadow across his gaunt face. "High security. Underground. Same place where they used to run ECHO interrogations."
"They won't keep her alive for long," Evelyn added quietly, her fingers nervously twisting the frayed edge of her sleeve.
I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white. "Then we go now." The words emerged as gravel in my throat.
"No." Vince stepped in front of me, his shoulders squared. "You're barely able to stand—"
"I said we go." My voice cracked with the strain of desperation and fury, echoing off the bare concrete walls. "You don't get it. If they hurt her—if he touches her—" My breath caught, the unfinished threat hanging heavy in the stale air.
"Sebastian," Evelyn said gently, reaching toward me with hesitant fingers that stopped short of contact. Her eyes glistened in the dim light. "You're not thinking clearly."
"I'm thinking just fine." I shoved myself upright, bracing against the wall. My leg screamed in protest, but I bit down until the taste of blood filled my mouth. Sweat beaded on my forehead as I fought to keep my expression neutral. "You two do whatever you want. But I'm not sitting this out."
Vince held my gaze for a long moment, searching for something—weakness, perhaps. Resolution. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he reached into his bag. He tossed me a set of body armor, the heavy vest landing with a thud at my feet.
"Then gear up." His voice was flat, resigned. "But if you get yourself killed, I'm not explaining it to her when we get her back."
3 days later
The facility was buried deep in the Virginia mountains, surrounded by high walls and electrified fences. But when the explosives went off and the power grid snapped, everything plunged into chaos.
Lights went out. Alarms screamed.
I limped through the smoke, The wound in my leg throbbed with each step, a constant reminder of my last encounter with Dad's . Three days ago, he'd nearly killed me. Today, I was returning the favor.
Vince moved like a shadow beside me, his military precision unchanged despite years away from ECHO. He'd been one of the first to defect, one of the first to see the organization for what it truly was. Not a security agency, but a laboratory of horrors.
The ex-agents were clearing corridors ahead of us, their silenced weapons making soft thuds in the darkness. Professional. Efficient. Each one had their own reasons for being here—revenge, redemption, or simple disgust at what they'd been part of.
"Hostiles down in the east corridor," came a gruff voice through my earpiece. Rodriguez. Former ECHO assassin. "Moving to secure the stairwell."
The smoke was getting thicker, acrid and burning in my lungs. My eyes watered as I pushed forward, guided by the tactical flashlight mounted beneath my rifle barrel. Bodies littered the hallway—security personnel who hadn't surrendered when given the chance.
I felt nothing for them. Not after what they'd helped do to those children. To me.
My mind flashed back to the years of "conditioning" at my father's hands. Jonathan Mercer—brilliant scientist, respected security consultant, and a monster who had beaten his own son daily, meticulously recording how I reacted to different tones of voice, different phrases. I was his first experiment, his prototype for ECHO's program.
The only reason I hadn't broken completely was Olivia.
"Level three," Vince barked into comms. "Tracking movement—north tunnel."
He pressed himself against the wall, checking the digital map on his wrist display. His face was illuminated in the blue glow, features hardened by years of running, of looking over his shoulder.
"Jonathan's trying to extract," came the reply from Torres, another ex-agent positioned in the security hub.
"He's got Olivia there."
"Where?" I demanded, grabbing Vince's shoulder. "Give me an exact location."
"Sublevel two," Torres responded. "Moving fast toward the emergency extraction point."
"The helipad," Vince translated. "Sebastian, we need to—"
I was already moving, ignoring the fire in my leg, pushing past the pain. Every second counted. Jonathan wouldn't hesitate to kill her if cornered.
"You can't go alone," Vince shouted after me.
"Watch me," I growled.
The corridor ahead split in two directions. I hesitated, trying to recall the facility map we'd studied for weeks. Left would take me toward the central elevators. Right led to the emergency stairwell.
"Elevators are down," Torres advised through comms. "Security protocol. Take the stairs."
I veered right, shouldering through a fire door into the stairwell. The steps were concrete, utilitarian, lit by dim emergency lighting. I took them two at a time, my wounded leg screaming in protest. Blood seeped through my makeshift bandage, warm against my skin.
"Sebastian," Vince's voice crackled through my earpiece. "Chen's team has reached the central server. They're downloading everything—experiment logs, subject profiles, financial records. When this is over, ECHO won't have a shadow to hide in."
I didn't care about exposing ECHO. Not right now. All that mattered was Olivia.
As I reached sublevel two, gunfire erupted somewhere above me. The sound echoed through the stairwell, sharp and threatening.
"Status report," I demanded.
"Security reinforcements," Rodriguez replied, his voice tight. "North quadrant. We're engaging."
More gunfire, followed by an explosion that shook dust from the ceiling.
"Breach charges," Vince explained. "Rodriguez is creating a diversion."
"Sebastian!" Torres's voice "She's in sublevel two! Jonathan's extraction is on the rooftop!"
OLIVIA's POV
My wrists burned.
The cuffs had cut into my skin from how hard I tried to break free. They'd drugged me at first, then moved me—fast, violent. Jonathan hadn't spoken much, just watched me with those cold, unreadable eyes.
The same eyes as Sebastian's, but lacking everything that made Sebastian human. There was no warmth in Jonathan's gaze, no compassion. Only calculation.
They'd thrown me into this sterile room hours ago—or was it days? Without windows, without clocks, time blurred into a hazy continuum of fear and determination.
He hadn't hit me. Not yet. But his silence was worse.
The door opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Jonathan entered. He looked immaculate as always—tailored suit, silver hair precisely combed, posture military-straight despite his sixty years. Only his eyes revealed his true nature, cold and assessing.
He sat across from me at the small metal table, folding his hands neatly.
"You should've taken the deal," he said now, voice measured and calm.
"I'd rather die," she spat.
I meant it. The "deal" had been simple: help lure Sebastian back into his grasp, and I would be free to go. As if I could ever betray the man who had saved me in so many ways.
Jonathan smiled faintly. "That can be arranged."
There was no malice in his tone. That was the most terrifying thing about him—his complete detachment. He would kill me with the same clinical interest with which he'd conduct any experiment.
I tested the chair leg again with her foot. I have been working at the bolt for hours, weakening it incrementally each time I was left alone. It felt looser now.
This might be my only chance.
I moved fast.
He didn't expect it—my knee slammed into his groin, and I wrenched the chair leg up, slamming it against the corner of the table. The bolt popped. I tore free just as he staggered back, swearing.
"You little—!"
I was already moving.
I ducked a wild swing, grabbed the broken cuff from my wrist, and slashed it across his face. He roared, stumbling back, blood streaming down his cheek.
The sight of his blood gave me a fierce satisfaction. This man had tormented Sebastian for years, had turned his childhood into a hell. Now he bled like anyone else.
I ran.
The door was unlocked—Jonathan's arrogance. He hadn't expected resistance from a me. The corridor beyond was chaos—flashing red lights, blaring alarms.
Something had happened. The facility was under attack.
I should be Seb, I know he would come for me
I ran barefoot down the cold corridor, disoriented by the identical doors and featureless walls. Behind me, I heard Jonathan's shouts, the heavy thud of security boots.
My lungs burned. The thin hospital gown they'd given me offered no protection against the cold air. But fear drove me forward, pushing through the pain.
A sign on the wall caught my attention: SUBLEVEL 2. An arrow pointed to the right, toward a set of double doors.
I ran in that direction, crashing through the doors into another corridor. This one was different—wider, with observation windows set into the walls. Through one, she glimpsed a child sitting motionless on a bed, staring blankly ahead.
I rounded a corner and nearly collided with two security guards. They reached for me, but adrenaline sharpened my reflexes. I ducked under their grasp and slammed my elbow into the nearest one's solar plexus. He doubled over, gasping.
The second guard grabbed my hair. Pain exploded across my scalp, but I twisted in his grip, fingers clawing at his eyes. He released me with a howl of pain.
I staggered forward, dizzy now. Blood trickled down my side—I hadn't noticed being injured in the scuffle.
Behind me, I could hear a familiar voice called orders to the guards. Jonathan. He'd recovered from my attack and was in pursuit.
The corridor seemed endless, branching in multiple directions. I chose paths at random, driven by instinct more than logic.
Then I heard it—gunfire. Close. Either death approaching or salvation. I had no way to know.
I turned another corner, and the corridor stretched long before me, bathed in emergency lighting.
And at the far end—a figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, moving with a slight limp.
Sebastian.
Relief I could feel inside me
"Olivia!" he shouted.
I tried to call back, but my voice caught in her throat.
His face—God, his face. Even from this distance, she could see the desperate hope, the fear, the love. For me
"Seb—!" I finally managed.
The crack of a gunshot cut through my relief. White-hot pain seared across my side, and I stumbled.
I was falling, darkness edging my vision. Then strong arms caught me, cradled me against a familiar chest. Sebastian's scent—sweat and something uniquely him—enveloped me
"I got you," he whispered hoarsely. "I've got you."
I sobbed against his chest, fingers digging into the material of his tactical vest. After days of captivity, of cold clinical observation, the human contact was overwhelming.
Movement caught my eye—Jonathan approaching ud, gun raised for another shot.
"Behind you!" I screamed.
Sebastian's POV
I turned.
Dad had the gun raised again—but this time, Vince got there first.
The shot rang out.
Dad dropped to his knees, gasping, clutching his shoulder. Vince stalked toward him, gun still trained on his head. His expression was cold, professional.
"Stand down," Vince said coldly. "It's over."
But Dad just laughed.
"You think this ends with me?" he rasped. "I have backups. Protocols. You've done nothing but delay the inevitable."
I cradled Olivia closer, shielding her with my body. My father—this monster who had tormented me for years—looked smaller somehow, kneeling in his own blood.
"Inevitable," Torres echoed, stepping beside Vince. "You mean your secrets being broadcast to every outlet in the world?"
Dad blinked.
"Check your comms," she said, smiling without warmth. "Your empire just died."
Dad's face contorted with rage. He lunged forward, faster than anyone anticipated, knocking Vince's gun aside. The weapon clattered to the floor.
"You ungrateful—" he snarled, his eyes locked on me.
I recognized that look. It was the same expression he'd worn during my "when he was so out and used to beat the shit out of"
I gently shifted Olivia to the side and stood, facing my father for what I hoped would be the last time.
"You were my greatest failure," he spat. "You had such potential."
"I'm not a failure," I replied steadily. "I'm just not what you wanted me to be."
"A weapon," he said, as if it were obvious. "Obedient. Perfect."
"Broken," I corrected. "Like those children you've imprisoned here."
His eyes flicked to Olivia. "She made you weak."
"She made me human."
Dad's hand moved to his jacket pocket. I tensed, expecting another weapon.
"Don't," Vince warned, retrieving his gun.
But Jonathan wasn't reaching for a gun. He pulled out a small remote detonator.
"Emergency protocol," he said calmly. "If the facility is compromised, everything burns. Including the evidence."
"And the children?" I demanded.
He shrugged. "Acceptable losses."
Before anyone could react, he pressed the button. An alarm—different from the others, more urgent—began to wail throughout the facility.
"Facility self-destruct initiated," announced a mechanical voice over the intercom. "Ten minutes to complete evacuation."
Dad used the moment of shock to lunge past Vince, sprinting down the corridor despite his wounded shoulder.
"Let him go," I said as Vince raised his gun. "The children come first."
Vince nodded grimly. "Torres, tell the teams to begin evacuation. Priority on the captives."
"Already on it," Torres replied through comms. "Chen's team has unlocked all containment cells. Rodriguez is coordinating evacuation to the north extraction point."
I turned back to Olivia, helping her to her feet. "Can you walk?"
She nodded weakly. "I think so."
"We need to move," Vince urged. "This place is going to be ash in less than ten minutes."
We moved as quickly as Olivia's condition would allow, passing through corridors now filled with confused, traumatized children being guided by our team. Some walked in a daze, others had to be carried. All bore the hollow-eyed look of prolonged psychological torture.
"This way," Vince directed, leading us toward an emergency exit. "Rodriguez has secured a path to the vehicles."
The facility was beginning to rumble beneath our feet. Secondary explosions—Jonathan's failsafe destroying evidence room by room—sent vibrations through the walls.
"Status on the children?" I asked into my comm unit.
"Fourteen accounted for," Rodriguez replied. "All being moved to extraction vehicles now."
"And the data?"
"Downloaded and transmitted," confirmed Chen. "It's everywhere now. News outlets, federal agencies, international watchdogs. ECHO is exposed."
We reached the emergency exit. Beyond the door lay a short tunnel that would lead us outside, away from the doomed facility. I could hear the rumble of engines—our extraction vehicles waiting.
"Go," I told Vince. "Get Olivia to safety."
"What about you?" Olivia protested, clutching my arm.
"I need to make sure everyone gets out," I said.
"Sebastian—" she began.
"I'll be right behind you," I promised. "I'm not leaving anyone behind."
Vince met my eyes, understanding passing between us. He would protect her if I didn't make it.
"Five minutes to self-destruct," the mechanical voice announced.
"Go," I repeated.
Reluctantly, Vince guided Olivia toward the exit. She looked back at me, her eyes filled with fear and determination.
"Come back to me," she said. It wasn't a request.
"Always," I replied.
I turned back to the facility, limping through smoke-filled corridors to ensure no child remained trapped. Room by room, I checked the containment cells, finding each one empty.
"All teams report," I commanded into my comm.
"North quadrant clear," came Rodriguez's voice.
"East quadrant clear," reported Chen.
"West and south quadrants clear," confirmed Torres. "Everyone's out except you, Sebastian."
Relief washed through me. We'd done it. Every child saved.
"Two minutes to self-destruct."
I began making my way back toward the emergency exit, moving as fast as my injured leg would allow. The facility was coming apart around me—ceiling panels crashing down, electrical systems shorting out in showers of sparks.
As I reached the exit tunnel, a final explosion rocked the facility, more powerful than the others. The force of it threw me forward, sending me sprawling onto the concrete floor of the tunnel.
For a moment, I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Then hands were grabbing me, dragging me forward.
"I've got him!" Vince shouted. "Move!"
Together, we staggered through the tunnel and into the night air. Behind us, the facility collapsed in on itself with a deafening roar. Heat blasted against my back as we ran, debris raining down around us.
We reached the extraction vehicles just as the largest explosion yet engulfed what remained of the ECHO facility. The night sky turned orange with flames, illuminating the forest around us.
Olivia was waiting in the lead vehicle, her wound now properly bandaged. When she saw me, her expression broke into a mixture of relief and exhaustion.
I collapsed into the seat beside her, my body finally giving in to the pain and fatigue.
"The children?" she asked.
"All safe," I assured her. "Being transported to medical facilities now."
"And Jonathan?"
I stared out the window at the burning facility. "Gone. But his legacy is destroyed."
Vince climbed into the driver's seat, starting the engine. "The media's already running with the story. By morning, everyone will know what ECHO really was."
As we pulled away from the burning facility, Olivia leaned against me, her head resting on my shoulder.
"It's really over," she whispered.
I pressed my lips to her forehead. "It's over."
But even as I said the words, I wondered. Dad had escaped. And men like him—men who saw people as tools, as experiments—rarely surrendered their obsessions easily.
For now, though, we had won. The children were free. ECHO was exposed. And Olivia was safe in my arms.
It would have to be enough.