The Siege

The first canister of tear gas shattered the front window.

White smoke billowed into the cabin, acrid and choking.

"Down!" Caleb tackled Lena, covering her body with his. Glass rained down on his tactical vest.

Gunfire erupted from the tree line, shredding the wooden walls of the cabin. Bullets punched through the logs, sending splinters flying.

"Cellar!" Caleb shouted, coughing.

He dragged Lena toward the kitchen. He kicked the rug aside and hauled open the trapdoor. He shoved her down the wooden steps and followed, slamming the heavy door shut and bolting it.

The cellar was cold, smelling of earth and potatoes. The sounds of the battle above were muffled thuds.

Lena was hyperventilating, curled in a ball in the corner. She was clutching her head.

"Make it stop," she moaned. "Make the noise stop."

Caleb grabbed her shoulders. "Lena! Look at me! Focus!"

She looked up. Her eyes were rolling back, the whites showing. She was seizing.

"The trigger," Caleb realized. "It’s working. The stress. Me."

"Istanbul," Lena gasped. Her voice changed. It wasn't the soft voice of the woman chopping wood. It was sharper. Harder.

"What?" Caleb froze.

"The... the plaza," Lena stuttered, clutching his tactical vest. "Blue van. Three shooters on the roof."

She gripped his collar, pulling him close. Her eyes cleared, sudden and terrifyingly lucid.

"You took the rear guard," she whispered. "I told you to go left. You went right."

Caleb’s heart stopped. "Lena?"

"I didn't run," she rasped, tears streaming down her face—but they were angry tears now. "I drew their fire. I led them away from the alley so you could get to the safe house. They cornered me at the bridge. I had the drive. I couldn't let them have it."

She shuddered, a memory washing over her.

"I swallowed the encryption key," she said. "And then they took me. The white room. The needles. They wanted the locations. I wouldn't give them up. So they wiped me. They thought if they reset me, the subconscious would surface."

She looked at Caleb, and the recognition was there. The love. The pain.

"I saved you, you idiot," she whispered. "I saved you."

Caleb fell back against the dirt wall. The guilt was agonizing. He had hated her for five years. He had kept himself alive with the fantasy of killing her. And she had sacrificed her own mind to keep him safe.

"I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry."

Above them, boots stomped on the floorboards. Dust drifted down.

"Silas is upstairs," Caleb said, wiping his face. His expression hardened. The mercenary was back, but the hatred was gone. Replaced by a cold, calculating resolve.

"He wants the ledger?" Caleb checked the magazine of his rifle. "He can have it."

He looked at Lena. "Can you fight?"

Lena blinked. She looked at her hands. She flexed her fingers. The muscle memory was waking up. The Wraith was waking up.

"Get me a gun," she said.