The Last Signal

Chapter 10: Don't die on me

The air inside the abandoned warehouse was thick. Dust hung in the beams of light cutting through the broken roof. It smelled like old fabric, rust, and something metallic underneath it all. Blood, maybe. Or fear.

Ryker pressed his back against the cold metal of a shipping container. His breathing was controlled, but I could see the tightness in his jaw. He’d been like this since we got the call. Quiet. Focused. The kind of quiet that meant he was already planning five ways this could go wrong.

“Six hostiles,” he murmured. “Three on ground level. Three above. Sniper on the catwalk, northeast corner.”

My mouth was dry. “The kid?”

He tilted his head toward the center of the warehouse. Under a single, buzzing fluorescent light was a metal chair. Chains dangled from the armrests. And in that chair was a boy. Maybe fourteen. His school uniform was torn at the shoulder. His head was bowed, but I could see his shoulders shaking.

“Static,” Ryker said. “Same equipment as the market. They’re siphoning him.”

The hum in my head spiked. Painful. Like someone was drilling into my skull.

I reached up and tapped the comms in my ear. “Park. Status.”

Static crackled before his voice came through, rushed and strained. “I’m eight minutes out. There’s a pile-up on the highway. Do NOT engage. I repeat, do NOT engage.”

Ryker didn’t answer. He looked at me instead. His dark eyes were sharp, but there was something else there. Something tired. Something that reminded me of Ch 3, when he took that hit for me in the train station and still kept fighting.

“We don’t have eight minutes,” he said.

My stomach dropped. “Ryker—”

“Plan B.” He cut me off, but not harsh. Just final. “You make yourself visible. Loud. You draw their attention. I go for the kid.”

“And if they shoot?”

“They won’t.” He said it like he believed it. Like he needed me to believe it too. “They want you alive, Galiana. You’re the prize.”

I wanted to argue. But the memory of Ch 7 flashed in my head. The market. The screaming. The way we were 2 seconds too late last time.

Rule Two: Follow orders.

Rule Three: Don’t leave his sight.

“Ten seconds,” Ryker said. He checked his gun. Two magazines. That was it.

I stood up from behind the container. My legs felt like water. I raised my hands slowly.

“I’m here!” My voice came out louder than I expected. It echoed off the metal walls. “Don’t hurt him!”

Everything stopped.

Eight men turned in unison. Black tactical gear. Masks covering their faces. Rifles raised. And standing in the middle of them, hands in the pockets of a crisp white suit, was The Null.

He smiled when he saw me. Like we were old friends.

“Galiana Torres,” he said. His voice was calm. Almost pleasant. “You’re right on time.”

“Let him go,” I said. I kept my voice steady.

The Null tilted his head. “No.”

He lifted two fingers. “Apprehend her. Non-lethal. I want her conscious.”

That was when Ryker moved.

He came from the shadows behind them, fast and silent. Two shots. One man went down clutching his leg. Another dropped his rifle, blood blooming on his shoulder.

“Contact!” someone yelled.

Chaos erupted.

“Galiana, down!” Ryker shouted.

I dropped to the floor as bullets tore through the air above me. My heart was hammering so hard I thought it would break my ribs. Across the room, I saw a man aiming directly at me.

I didn’t think. I just reacted.

The _hum_ in my head peaked and then released.

Lightning burst from my palm. It wasn’t controlled. It wasn’t pretty. It was raw and bright and it slammed into the man’s gun. The weapon exploded in his hands with a shower of sparks. He screamed and fell back.

The Null didn’t even flinch. He just watched me, curious. “Fascinating.”

Two more men rushed Ryker. He ducked, rolled, came up shooting. One down. Then he was in hand-to-hand. I saw him take a hit to the ribs but he didn’t stop. He never stopped.

He was already at the chair. Knife out, slicing through the chains in seconds. “Can you run?” he asked the boy.

The boy nodded, eyes wide and terrified.

“Then run,” Ryker said. He pushed him toward the side exit. “Go. Now.”

But the sniper had us.

I heard the shot before I registered what it was. A single, sharp crack that cut through all the other noise.

Ryker jerked.

He stumbled. His hand flew to his right side, just below his ribs. Blood welled between his fingers, dark and fast.

“RYKER!”

The world narrowed to that one word. To the way he went down on one knee, then the other. To the gun that slipped from his hand.

I was running before I knew it. I hit the floor next to him, my hands already pressing against his wound.

“Don’t you dare,” I said. My voice was shaking. “Don’t you dare. Not again.”

_Not again._ The words echoed. Like Ch 3. Like the train. Like when I thought he was going to die and it was my fault.

“Galiana,” he said. His breathing was shallow. “Get the kid out.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Rule Two,” he gritted out.

“Screw Rule Two,” I snapped. Tears were burning my eyes. I pressed harder against the wound. “Park! We need medical! NOW!”

"I'm almost there," Park’s voice was frantic in my ear. "Hold on. Both of you, hold on."

The Null walked closer. His men stayed back, but he came alone. He stopped a few feet away and looked down at us.

“Agent Vega,” he said. “This is disappointing. You were supposed to be better than this.”

Ryker lifted his head. His face was pale, but his eyes were still sharp. Still angry. “Back off.”

“Or what?” The Null crouched down. “You’re bleeding out. She’s a child playing with forces she doesn’t understand. You’ve lost.”

He was wrong.

I stood up. My hands were covered in Ryker’s blood. The hum was screaming now. It wasn’t in my head anymore. It was in my chest. In my bones.

“You want me?” I said. My voice didn’t shake. “Then come get me.”

I raised both hands.

The lightning didn’t come as a bolt this time. It came as a wall. A barrier of white, crackling energy that erupted from the floor and shot up between us and The Null. The air smelled like ozone and burnt metal. The concrete beneath us cracked.

The Null threw an arm up to shield his face. For the first time, his smile faltered. “Enough.”

He snapped his fingers. His men started to fall back, dragging their wounded with them.

“This isn’t over, Galiana,” he called over the sound of the electricity. “We’ll be seeing each other again. Get well soon, Agent.”

And then they were gone. Vanished into the dark corners of the warehouse, leaving only the smell of smoke and blood behind.

Silence fell. Heavy and ringing.

“Park’s here,” someone yelled from outside. “Medics!”

They rushed in. Hands everywhere. Loading Ryker onto a stretcher. I tried to follow, but someone pulled me back.

“Ma’am, you need to—”

“I’m going with him,” I said. I wasn’t asking.

They let me climb into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut and the world became noise and light and the steady, terrifying sound of the monitor.

Beep...

Beep...

And another one,

Beep...

Ryker was pale against the white sheets. An oxygen mask covered his mouth. His eyes opened when I took his hand.

“Galiana,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Don’t talk,” I said. Tears were falling now and I couldn’t stop them. “Just stay with me.”

His fingers squeezed mine, weak but there. “Told you... they wouldn’t shoot you.”

“You got shot instead,” I said, and it came out as a sob. “That’s not better.”

A ghost of a smile. “It was me... or you.”

The ambulance jerked to a stop. The doors flew open. They wheeled him out and into the bright lights of Bureau Medical. I was left in the hallway, still shaking, still covered in his blood.

Scar found me there. She didn’t say anything. She just sat down next to me on the cold floor and put an arm around my shoulders.

“How bad?” I whispered.

“Bad,” she said honestly. “But he’s tough. Tougher than all of us. Remember the train? He walked that off.”

I laughed and cried at the same time. “That was different.”

“Was it?” She squeezed my shoulder. “You’re the reason he’s still here. Don’t forget that.”

We waited. It felt like hours.

When the surgeon finally came out, he looked exhausted. “He’s stable,” he said. “The bullet missed the artery. Missed the lung. It’ll be a long recovery, but he’s going to make it.”

I broke. Right there. All the fear and adrenaline and terror came out in one shaking breath. Scar held me while I cried.

Later, they let me into his room.

The room was too quiet. Just the steady beep of the monitor. Fluorescent lights hummed above. Ryker was asleep in the bed, pale but breathing. A clean white bandage covered his side.

I pulled a chair up next to him and took his hand. It was warm.

He stirred after a while. His eyes opened, dark and clear.

“Morning,” I whispered. My voice cracked.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding his breath. “Morning.”

“You’re an i***t,” I said.

“I know,” he said.

“You scared me.”

“I know.”

We were quiet for a long time.

“Rule Three,” he said finally.

“Don’t leave your sight,” I answered.

He squeezed my hand. “You didn’t.”

“No,” I said. “I didn’t. Not this time.”

The door opened and Director Morales stepped in. Her face was unreadable. “De-brief when he’s able,” she said. “And Torres. Good work.”

After she left, Ryker looked at me. “Did I do okay?”

“You did perfect,” I said.

He closed his eyes again, and this time when he slept, I didn’t let go of his hand.

Outside, the city was dark. But in here, in this small room, we were alive.