A faint hum from the air purifier filled the silence. A small crib stood in the corner. Empty, thank God.
But the room wasn’t empty. A shadow shifted behind the curtain. Eva’s pulse pounded.
Reed, she whispered. I know it’s you. Silence.
Then a single step. Slow. Deliberate.
The curtain slid aside. And there he was. Masked.
Gloved. Surgical scrubs hanging loosely on his frame. But the eyes.
Those sharp gray eyes. Those hadn’t changed since the outpost. He had always looked at her like he could see through her.
Like he expected her to understand things no one else could. And now… He looked at her like prey. Eva, he said softly through the mask.
Voice breaking through the room like a thin crack in glass. Her entire body went cold. You’re alive, he tilted his head.
And you weren’t supposed to be. Her knees threatened to give out. Why, Reed, she whispered.
Why kill the general? Why come here? You know why, he said calmly. You saw the files they tried to burn. You saw what Echo Team discovered.
And they erased us to keep it quiet. But you survived, she whispered. He stepped closer.
I survived because I chose the winning side. She felt the world tilt again. You helped them, she breathed.
You betrayed us. He didn’t flinch. They offered me a way out.
You… His eyes hardened. You were supposed to die in that blast. Her hand darted toward the door, but Reed raised a vial between his fingers.
A clear liquid. Colorless. Odorless.
The same toxin. The same terror that stole her team. You take one more step, Reed said softly, and I flood this entire wing.
Children, Eva, nurses, anyone in range. You know what this stuff does? The commander’s voice came through her earpiece. Eva, status? Do you need backup? Eva didn’t answer.
Couldn’t. Reed moved closer. You should have stayed dead, he whispered.
Because now… Now you’ve seen me, and I can’t let that happen. Her eyes pricked with tears she refused to let fall. Reed, whatever happened to you… He cut her off.
What happened to me? I accepted the truth. Our country experiments, our leaders lie, and operatives like us… We’re disposable. His hand tightened around the vial.
The vial she knew could kill dozens in seconds. Her whole body trembled with adrenaline. Reed, you don’t have to do this.
Oh, he said softly, but I do. A faint sound broke the tension. A whisper of movement.
The commander and his guards weren’t waiting anymore. They were entering the hallway, quiet, slow, but not quiet enough. Reed’s head snapped toward the door.
His grip tightened. And in one swift motion, he hurled the vial toward the floor. Eva screamed, no! But Reed was faster.
Her hand shot out. Fingers grazed the vial midair. Glass shifted direction, hit the wall, shattered.
A cloud of toxin burst outward. Eva grabbed the edge of the curtain and threw it over the spill just in time, sealing the vapor beneath fabric. The air purifier roared, sucking fumes toward its filter.
Reed didn’t stay to see the outcome. He jumped through the adjoining door, evacuation exit, and vanished into the stairwell. The commander rushed in seconds later.
Eva, are you… She didn’t let him finish. He’s heading for the lower levels, she gasped. He’s going to release the toxin into the ventilation system.
The commander froze. That would kill half the hospital, he whispered. Eva grabbed his arm, eyes burning with fear and fury.
No, she said, that will kill everyone. She pushed past him toward the stairwell. The chase wasn’t optional now.
Reed wasn’t just a ghost. He was the executioner. And the entire hospital was seconds away from becoming a graveyard.
Eva bolted down the stairwell, boots slamming against metal steps as alarms wailed through the hospital like distant screams. Each floor blurred past, fourth, third, second, her breath sharp and controlled, muscles burning with adrenaline she hadn’t felt since the desert. The commander and his guards thundered behind her, but she didn’t slow, she couldn’t.
If Reed reached the lower levels, he could access the central ventilation shutoff. A single vial of that toxin pumped through the ducts would drop patients, nurses, doctors, everyone within minutes. Reed, she shouted into the echoing stairwell.
Don’t do this. Her voice bounced off concrete, hollow and unanswered. When she burst into the basement corridor, the air changed instantly.
Colder, thicker, humming with the low vibration of industrial systems. Fluorescent lights flickered in long rows above her, painting the hallway in sharp white and deep shadow. Then she saw him.
At the far end of the corridor, Reed Dalton stood in front of a steel service door marked Restricted Access Ventilation Control. One hand hovered over the keypad, the other held a canister, larger than the vials he’d been using. Industrial grade, enough toxin to poison the entire building in under 90 seconds.
He didn’t turn around when she called his name again. Reed, you don’t have to do this. His shoulders lifted in a slow laugh.
Quiet, bitter, broken. You keep saying that like any of this was my choice, he said, voice echoing in the cold hallway. Like any of us ever had a choice.
Eva stepped forward carefully, her pulse hammering. What did they do to you? Reed finally turned. Even with the mask on, she could see it in his eyes.
The thing that replaced the man she once trusted. Pain. Betrayal.
And something worse. Conviction. The burn of someone who believed he was right.
They turned us into ghosts, he said. They erased us, Eva. Echo Team blew the whistle on a covert toxin program.
Do you remember? Of course you don’t. They wiped the files clean. They wiped us clean.
Eva’s breath caught. A memory flickered. Papers burning.
Hard drives smashed. Reed shouting into a radio that no one answered. You survived, she whispered.
He nodded slowly. Barely. And do you know what they told me afterward? That the explosion was…convenient. His voice shook with fury.
Our deaths tied up the loose ends until you woke up in that rubble. Her chest tightened as the truth settled over her like a weight she couldn’t breathe under. You think killing civilians will fix that? She said softly.
They aren’t civilians, Reed snapped. Not to the people who did this. They’re witnesses.
They patched up the general. They saw the symptoms. They saw you.
He pointed the canister at her. You’re the biggest threat of all. Eva’s voice broke.
Reed, you were my family. He paused. That one sentence hit him.
She could see it. The slight tremor in his hand. The flicker in his eyes as the mission and their memories collided.
But the moment didn’t last. He steadied the canister. Family doesn’t survive in the shadows, Eva.
Only killers do. Eva stepped forward, heart pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears. Then kill me.
But don’t touch them. Reed hesitated. And that was all she needed.
Eva lunged. Reed reacted, instantly swinging the canister. It clipped her shoulder, sending her crashing into the wall.
Pain exploded down her arm, but she rolled with it, grabbing his wrist and twisting. He grunted. Slamming her back into the steel door so hard, the impact rattled her teeth.
You always were the fighter. He growled. Eva shoved her knee into his ribs and the canister slipped from his grasp, clattering across the floor.
They both dove for it, hands brushing metal, just before Reed kicked her side, sending her sprawling. He grabbed the canister again and sprinted toward the keypad. The commander and guards burst into the corridor.
But Reed spun, hurling a flash canister from his pocket. It detonated with blinding white fury. Everyone reeled.
Everyone except Eva. She had trained for this. Through the fading blast, she lunged again, body slamming into Reed.
They crashed to the floor, grappling for control, his hands clawing for the canister valve. Eva’s fingers caught his wrist, twisting until something cracked. Reed screamed.
The canister rolled free again. This time, Eva pounced, ripping the valve housing clean off and smashing it against the concrete. The toxin container hissed softly for a moment, then went silent.
Disabled. Useless. Reed stared at her, chest heaving, rage dissolving into something hollow.
You think you saved them, he said bitterly. You just signed your death sentence. He reached for a scalpel he’d hidden in his sleeve.
Eva didn’t hesitate. She struck his forearm, twisting, disarming him with a single practiced move she’d learned from him years ago. The blade skittered across the floor.
Reed collapsed to his knees, breath ragged. For Echo Team, he whispered. Eva’s voice cracked.
Echo Team died trying to save people, not kill them. His eyes softened for the first time. Maybe, maybe that’s why we lost.
She tightened her grip on his arm. No, that’s why we mattered. Before Reed could answer, the commander finally regained his footing, signaling his guards, who swarmed in and pinned Reed to the ground.
He didn’t resist. Not anymore. Eva backed away, chest heaving, tears burning her eyes.
Her world felt like it was collapsing again. Reed alive. Reed broken.
Reed trying to finish a mission that was never theirs. But now, now she could finally end it. They brought her back to the ICU afterward.
The comms officer was stable. The general’s vitals were stronger. The toxin didn’t reach the ventilation system.
Families were safe. Nurses were alive. And the hospital hadn’t turned into another graveyard.
When the general saw Eva in the doorway, he lifted a trembling hand. You stopped him, he whispered. Eva swallowed hard.
No, I stopped myself from becoming him. The general nodded, eyes heavy with respect. Echo Team would be proud.
Her throat closed around a breath she couldn’t release. The Navy commander approached. Ma’am, the Pentagon wants to debrief you.
Your file, your original file has been reopened. Eva stared at the floor, that door, that shadow she left behind in the desert. Part of her wanted to run.
Part of her wanted to bury it all again. But the biggest part of her, the part that saved people even when it cost her everything, knew the truth. If she didn’t show up to that debrief, someone else would finish what Reed started.
She lifted her gaze. Tell them I’ll come. The commander nodded.
We lift off in ten? She walked toward the elevator, past nurses who stared at her like she was something mythic. Past doctors who suddenly understood the woman they had dismissed. Past Director Hale, who looked like he wanted to apologize but couldn’t find the words.
Eva didn’t slow. She stepped onto the roof as sunrise broke over the city, painting the helicopter in gold. For the first time in years, the world felt quiet.
Her choice waited on the horizon. She took a breath. Then, she stepped toward the helicopter.
