Chapter Text
The storm outside was a beast, tearing at the dark horizon, its winds shrieking like an animal. Sheets of rain pounded against the steel walls of the operations van, each drop a hammer against the thin metal shell that separated them from the chaos. Inside, the air was heavy, suffocating despite the chill. The soft hum of machinery and the static crackle of the radio were the only sounds that dared to exist. The men inside didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Every man in that van felt the weight of failure hanging over them like a blade.
Wolf sat hunched near the radio equipment, his breathing shallow, his hands trembling despite his desperate attempts to hide it. Sweat clung to his skin, mixing with the dried blood that had soaked through his discarded combat vest, his injuries ignored. He should have been out there. He should have been the one leading the charge, pulling Alex from the darkness with his own hands. Instead, he was trapped here, shackled by his own weakness, by Snake’s brutal practicality.
Snake had not argued. He didn’t need to. His cold, calm voice had been final. “You’re not going,” he had said, standing firm in the narrow doorway, barring Wolf’s exit. One glance at Wolf’s pale skin, at the blood soaking through his shirt, had been enough. “You’ll slow them down.”
And so Wolf was left behind, exiled to the rear, reduced to a voice in the darkness. Every command he gave over the radio felt like betrayal. He could almost hear Alex’s voice in his head – not the voice of the broken boy he was trying to save, but the colder, angrier version that had glared at him through too many mission briefings, accusing him of abandoning him, of treating him like a tool. A coward. A liar. Now, with Alex somewhere in that hell, Wolf couldn’t silence that voice.
He swallowed hard, forcing the shaking from his hands as he leaned in toward the radio microphone, his voice low but sharp with urgency. “Eagle. Fox. Tighten formation. Breach in ninety seconds. Copy?”
There was a pause. Static hissed back at him like the storm outside. His pulse throbbed painfully in his throat. For a terrifying moment, he thought no one would answer him. That they were gone too.
Then Fox’s voice crackled through, tight and strained. “Copy, Wolf. Holding for breach.”
Wolf pressed his eyes shut for a moment, picturing the scene in his mind. He could see it, clear as day – the two operatives moving silently through dark corridors, Fox’s gloved hand steady on the breaching door, Eagle watching the rear, tense and ready. Somewhere beyond those walls, beyond the locked doors and the blood-soaked floors, Alex was waiting. Hanging on. Or already dead.
The countdown left Wolf breathless. “Breach in five... four... three... two…”
The blast roared through the van’s speakers, a savage crack that shattered the oppressive silence. Wolf’s heart jerked violently in his chest as he saw the helmet camera feed flicker to life on the small monitors. The view shook violently from the force of the explosion. Dust and smoke engulfed the hallway. Then, chaos. Gunfire erupted in frantic bursts, deafening over the radio, echoing like cannon fire inside Wolf’s skull.
“Contact! Two guards down—moving!” Eagle’s voice came fast and ragged. “Right flank clear!”
“Go!” Wolf barked, desperation leaking through the cracks in his professional tone. “Move! Secondary corridor, left, thirty meters. Sabic’s security hub. Don’t stop. Move now!”
He could hear the pounding of boots, the breathless curses, the hiss of automatic fire. He clutched the microphone tighter, white-knuckled, each second stretching into eternity as his mind screamed for news, any news. The radio was alive with sound – shots, shouts, the harsh rasp of breathing – but Alex’s voice never came.
Snake stood behind him, silent, a shadow that hovered just out of reach. Wolf knew Snake was there to intervene if he lost control, to drag him back if the rage overtook him. But Wolf didn’t care anymore. He barely registered Snake’s presence. All that existed was the comm, and the nightmare unfolding at the other end.
“Clear!” Fox gasped suddenly. “Sabic’s men are down. Reaching inner door. Locked. Cutting through now.”
Wolf could barely breathe. He pressed his forehead against the cold metal wall of the van, as if the physical pain could drown out the panic suffocating him. Too slow. Everything was too slow. They needed to move faster. Alex didn’t have time.
“Hurry,” Wolf rasped, voice cracking against his will. “Get him out. Get Cub out.”
In the compound, Fox’s hands shook uncontrollably as he worked at the heavy lock, sweat running down his spine despite the freezing air. The door refused to yield. Eagle crouched behind him, gun ready, eyes flickering between the darkened hallway and Fox’s fumbling hands.
“Come on,” Fox hissed through clenched teeth. The lock finally gave with a low, scraping groan.
The door swung open.
Both men froze.
Alex hung from the ceiling in chains, motionless, his body slumped forward like a marionette whose strings had been cut. His skin was deathly pale, his hair matted and filthy, his bare chest rising and falling in shallow, irregular breaths. Blood streaked down his arms from wrists torn raw by rusted iron cuffs. He didn’t even stir at the sound of their entry.
“Cub!” Eagle’s scream was ragged, cracked by terror.
They surged forward together, years of training breaking under the horror before them. Fox fought against trembling hands, slashing at the chains, heedless of the blood as his knife cut through rust and skin alike. Alex dropped bonelessly into his arms. For one sickening heartbeat, Fox thought he was too late.
Then Alex sucked in a thin, shuddering breath.
“Wolf...” he whispered weakly, his voice so faint Fox wasn’t sure he heard it at all.
Fox clutched the boy tighter, swallowing back the flood of emotion that rose up in his throat. “We’ve got you,” he promised, forcing the words past the knot in his chest. “We’ve got you. You’re safe.”
“Fox? Report. Report!” Wolf’s voice slammed through the comms, harsh and cracked.
Fox fumbled for his radio, barely able to make his voice work. “We have Cub. He’s alive. He’s alive.”
There was silence at the other end. Then, a single broken gasp.
Wolf.
The exfiltration was chaos, a blur of movement and violence. Sabic’s remaining guards had regrouped, their rage and fear driving them to reckless aggression. Bullets tore through concrete and air as Fox carried Alex’s limp form through the maze of tunnels, his muscles burning, his lungs heaving. Alex drifted in and out of consciousness, too weak to even hold his head up, his breathing shallow and ragged. Eagle moved beside them, cold fury driving every shot he fired, his ammunition dwindling with each heartbeat.
Through it all, Wolf’s voice was constant in their ears, a lifeline in the storm.
“Left corridor. Use the service tunnels. Don’t stop.”
“How’s Cub?” Wolf demanded.
“Not good,” Fox answered, voice hoarse. “He’s freezing. Barely responsive.”
“Don’t let him go. Do you hear me? You don’t let him go.”
Fox’s arms tightened instinctively. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“Exit’s in sight!” Eagle shouted suddenly. “Almost there!”
And then Wolf’s final command wasn’t a command at all.
“Bring him home.”
The service door slammed open into the freezing night. Bright floodlights stabbed through the darkness, blinding after the suffocating gloom of the compound. Snake stood waiting at the edge, medics already racing forward, equipment in hand.
Fox collapsed to his knees as soon as he reached them, still cradling Alex against his chest. He couldn’t let go. Not yet. Not until someone forced him.
Snake pushed past the medics, crouching beside them. His gloved fingers pressed to Alex’s neck, searching. A pause. Then his jaw tightened.
“He’s alive. Move! Now!”
Alex was lifted from Fox’s arms, his head lolling limply as the medics rushed him toward the waiting helicopter. Fox remained frozen on his knees, staring at the blood smeared across his gloves, his breathing harsh and uneven.
Eagle stood beside him, equally silent. Both of them were shaking.
Inside the operations van, Wolf heard the final words crackle over the comm.
“Is he safe? Is he breathing?”
Snake’s voice answered, calm and certain.
“We’ve got him.”
Wolf’s radio slipped from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor. He sank down slowly against the wall of the van, his body shuddering. He buried his face in his bloodstained hands, the tears he refused to acknowledge burning against his skin.
Alex was alive.
But Wolf knew, with a certainty that chilled him more than the storm ever could, that whatever damage had been done in that darkness – to Alex’s body, to his mind – it wasn’t something they could simply rescue him from.
And no matter how many missions they won, Wolf feared that, in the ways that mattered most, they were already too late.
The flight back to the Brecon Beacons was a nightmare.
The helicopter shuddered through the storm, buffeted by winds that howled like dying animals. Rain hammered against the fuselage, the sound deafening inside the cramped cabin. Fox sat hunched beside Alex, barely aware of the turbulence, his entire focus locked on the fragile boy whose life dangled by a thread.
Alex lay pale and unmoving, bundled in thermal blankets that did little to mask the deep bruises and lacerations covering his skin. The medics worked tirelessly, their hands stained with blood as they fought to keep him breathing. Every beep of the monitors was a reminder of how close the line was between life and death.
Wolf sat opposite, hollow-eyed, watching without seeing. His knuckles were white where they gripped the edge of the seat, his body rigid, his jaw locked. He didn’t speak. He didn’t trust himself to.
Snake hovered near the cockpit, his usual mask of composure strained. Even he wasn’t immune to the gravity of what they’d pulled Alex from.
Hours bled together.
When the helicopter finally descended over the dark silhouette of the Brecon Beacons facility, its landing lights cutting through the mist, a grim sort of relief settled over the team. But it was fragile. Fractured.
As soon as the skids touched down, medics swarmed the aircraft, Alex whisked away on a stretcher before Wolf or Fox could process it. The storm followed them, winds whipping through the landing zone, drowning out shouted orders.
Fox stumbled after the stretcher until Snake’s gloved hand clamped onto his shoulder, halting him. His breath hitched, his throat raw.
“Let them work,” Snake said softly. His voice was steady, but his eyes betrayed the same exhaustion, the same dread.
Wolf didn’t move. He watched the doors close behind Alex, and something inside him cracked.
They were home.
But the nightmare wasn’t over.
Not yet.