“Good,” Dom said. “I—”
Gunfire exploded somewhere outside the laboratory, followed by animalistic howls that O’Neil had grown only too familiar with.
Dom pressed a finger to an ear. It looked like the Hunters’ leader was listening to someone calling over his comms.
“Meredith?” he asked. “Meredith, do you read?”
The concern painted over his face told O’Neil that she didn’t.
“Bravo, Alpha. SITREP?” he tried again.
Evidently, he still hadn’t gotten a response.
Dom turned his attention back to the Hybrids. “What’s your name?”
“Master Chief Petty Officer Craig Reynolds.”
“From the intel I got, I’m assuming you’re in charge of these SEALs.”
“I’m their chief.”
“I’m making a big ask here, but I need your help,” Dom said. “We need to take out this place’s command center. That’s where we think the people responsible for this twisted work might be. You scouted this place out long before we ever set foot in Tangier. Can you take me there?”
“I can.”
Dom looked back at the rest of his team. “Miguel, you’re in charge of Alpha now. Do whatever it takes to rescue Bravo and fulfill their mission.”
“You got it, Chief,” Miguel replied.
“We won’t let you down,” Spencer added.
Dom gestured toward O’Neil’s team and the other SEALs. “I want you to take these fine men down there with you, if they’re willing.”
“More than willing,” O’Neil said.
Loeb gave guttural harrumph in agreement, and Tate tightened his claw-tipped fingers into fists.
“Reynolds, make sure we only let out the ones who are capable of following orders,” Dom said.
“I catch your drift, Captain,” Reynolds said, voice scratchy. “Men, you heard him.”
Stuart, Henderson, and the other Delta and Charlie operators whose minds hadn’t been nuked by the Hybrid alteration process lined up near the door to the cell. Miguel took a deep breath, then slid a keycard that he must’ve stolen from a guard through the reader. The cage opened up, and Reynolds stepped out, almost towering above the Hunters.
A few of the mercs took steps back. O’Neil saw even Spencer raise his rifle slightly, ready to fire off a shot if Reynolds proved to be wilder than anticipated. But as the other SEALs and Moroccan prisoners exited, Reynolds turned back, putting his hand against the chest of a Hybrid that kept muttering, “Eat. Eat. Eat.”
“We’ll be back for you, brother,” Reynolds said.
O’Neil felt a pang of remorse at the sad, but necessary lie.
Miguel released the other cages. O’Neil and his team helped corral the more aggressive Hybrids, pushing them to the back of the cells until the ones with healthier minds cleared the exit.
As the Hybrids milled around the Hunters, Dom gestured to Miguel. “Lock it back up. Reynolds, you’re with me. Everyone else, follow Miguel. Now, go. Bravo’s waiting.”
Reynolds grabbed O’Neil’s shoulder before he left. “Take care of our brothers.”
“Only easy day was yesterday.”
“And yesterday was harder than hell,” Reynolds replied. “You make our brothers proud. Make Van proud.”
“You got it, Chief,” O’Neil said.
He gave Reynolds a final nod.
Miguel looked at O’Neil. “Hey, bud, what’s your name?”
“Brendon O’Neil.”
“Can you tell me quickly who I’m working with, O’Neil?”
O’Neil did his best to make a quick round of introductions before the group of Hunters and Hybrids moved through the lab, toward the sounds of gunfire and shrieks of monsters. The sounds of the raging battle filled O’Neil with a powerful heat, one that radiated between the other Hybrids. A few Moroccans snarled, holding their claws in front of them as if they were ready to pounce on the first Russian that dared come near them.
That same wrath filled O’Neil from his talons to brain, festering at the back of his mind. He felt like there was an animal inside his mind, waiting anxiously to be let loose.
He felt fear, too.
Not fear for his life.
But fear for the Russians who he would soon face.
This time, the bastards would see what they had created. Not in a controlled experiment where he was tied up on a pole, but face-to-face for the first time.
He couldn’t wait to show them.
Spotlights raked across the shipyard, flashing over the shipping containers and crates. New concrete barriers surrounded the warehouses. Throughout the base, voices rose, shouting.
Gunshots echoed from one of the warehouses. They used the cover of the crates and vehicles left in the shipping yard to get closer to that warehouse. There were even more shipping containers than when O’Neil first stepped foot on this base. He saw anti-aircraft guns close to the pier, and a pair of helicopters near a parking lot. Three giant freighters were docked at the pier. Shipping containers filled their decks.
The Russians had definitely expanded their operation since O’Neil had last been outside that lab facility.
As their taloned feet pounded over the concrete, anger surged at the back of O’Neil’s mind. Each time the wind shifted, carrying with it the scent of death, the scent of Skulls, from around the port, that fiery rage swelled.
He felt as if he was surrounded by the beasts. But he saw and heard only the Russian soldiers. Most of whom were too focused on the warehouse or the lab to notice the Hunters and Hybrids lurking in the shadows of the port.
“Come on,” Miguel said, waving on the ragtag team.
They stopped just outside the warehouse. The gunfire had stopped.
O’Neil’s heart pounded. He feared what that might mean. Was the rest of the mercenary team they were supposed to help already dead?
He might not know these people. But too many had already died trying to stop these crazed Russians.
He couldn’t stand another life taken by these monsters before this base was brought to its knees, before every one of the Russians here became Skull food.
“O’Neil, can you guys climb like the Skulls?” Miguel asked.
O’Neil gazed up at the warehouse. From their vantage point, he could just see the skylights Miguel was looking at.
“If the Skulls can, we can,” O’Neil said.
“Take the roof then,” Miguel said. “We’ll go in through the back doors. Our teammates are supposed to be somewhere in there, pinned down by the Russians. We’ll hit the enemy from all sides.”
“You heard him,” O’Neil said, looking at his Hybrid force. “We’ve all been waiting for tonight. We’ve been waiting for this moment. Let’s make it count.”
“I’ll see you on the inside, bro,” Miguel said with a nod, then split off from the group.
O’Neil started sprinting straight toward the side of the warehouse. Next to it was a row of shipping containers stacked two high. Just before he made it, a pair of Russian soldiers came running around the other side of the containers, hurrying toward the front of the warehouse.
Maybe to reinforce their comrades. Maybe to respond to some other threat.
“Get them,” O’Neil said.
Loeb and Tate ran ahead, leading Stuart, Henderson, and a couple other SEALs. The Russians spun at the sound of talons clicking on the ground. They barely had time to shout when the pack of Hybrids hit them.
The two men disappeared under a blur of slashing claws and unfettered growls. Chunks of what was left of them hit the ground with wet slurps, the smell of blood almost cloying as it spilled from their ruined corpses. That odor was enough to waken something in O’Neil. A beast that forced buckets of adrenaline through his vessels.
Something primal.
He felt like a wolf hearing another of his kind howl in the distance. He could not resist it. Could not fight it.