Chapter 181: 181
Winter didn’t slam the door.
He didn’t curse or shout or punch holes in the wall, even though the violent tremor in his fingers begged for an outlet. No — he moved in almost slow motion, lethal and silent, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder, tightening the straps on the rifle across his back.
His sidearm kissed his hip, two extra mags tucked into his vest.
His breath came in short bursts, like it had to fight its way past the ice in his chest.
They were gone.
Taken.
And someone was going to pay in blood.
Winter didn’t look back as he marched out of the room. His boots hit the metal floor.
He didn’t even make it past the hallway before the first alert blared overhead.
"Attention all residents. Sector 2 is entering precautionary lockdown. Please return to your assigned living quarters immediately. This is not a drill."
Winter froze.
His head lifted slowly to the speaker above him. He blinked once.
A laugh — dry and humourless — escaped his lips.
Of course.
Of course.
This wasn’t a coincidence. This was a net tightening around his neck. A leash. They knew Zara and Leo were missing. The higher-ups weren’t just letting it happen — they were orchestrating it.
He didn’t bother turning around. He pivoted hard and stalked down the corridor toward the barracks instead, ignoring the security drones hovering into place and the MPS trying to direct foot traffic.
"Sir!" one barked, stepping into his path.
Winter didn’t stop.
"Sir, I said you need to return to—"
Winter grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him into the wall so fast the rifle didn’t even have time to shift on his back.
"If I don’t get through that door in the next ten seconds," Winter growled, low and rough like gravel under a tank tread, "you’ll be eating your rations through a tube for the next three months."
The soldier paled. He didn’t resist as Winter shoved past him and stormed into the barracks.
Bale’s office was sealed.
Of course it was!
The two men stationed outside didn’t even pretend to look surprised when Winter approached. They both stiffened, one reaching for his comm, the other placing a palm on his weapon.
"Where is he?" Winter demanded.
"General Bale is unavailable," the taller one said. "He’s in a classified meeting and cannot be disturbed."
Winter stepped forward. "Then un-classify him. Now."
"I’m sorry, sir—"
"I don’t give a damn what you’re sorry for," Winter hissed. "You think I don’t see it? The lockdown. The sudden disappearance of my wife and son. The silence from the command. Who’s pulling the strings? How deep does this go? How many of you bastards are working with Adrian?"
The men looked at him in confusion. These were probably grunts who didn’t know much, but that didn’t lessen.
Both men said nothing. The one with his hand near his gun took a half-step back.
"You know what?" Winter said, nodding slowly. "You’re going to remember this moment — when you let the wolf sniff the edge of the trap. I’ll find her. I’ll find my son. And when I do..."
He leaned in close enough for the man to smell the gun oil on his vest.
"...I’ll come back for the rest of you."
He turned on his heel before they could respond.
He didn’t care about the warnings behind him. Or the way the lights flickered red now, emergency-level. He was leaving. He was done being caged.
But then he turned a corner — and nearly collided with Ima and Miles.
"Winter—!"
"Get out of my way," he snapped.
"Stop!" Ima grabbed his arm. She didn’t flinch even as he whirled on her. "What’s going on? We heard the lockdown, then you stormed out like a grenade with the pin pulled."
Miles raised his hands in a rare show of caution. "You’re gonna get yourself locked in solitary if you keep this up, man. Talk to us."
"They took them."
Ima and Miles blinked in confusion. "Who?"
"Zara and Leo," Winter continued, voice hoarse. "Gone. No trace. Place was clean. Nothing. Her ID was in the room, you know we can go anywhere without those shits."
"Oh god," Ima whispered, eyes wide. "Are you sure—?"
"Yes, I’m sure!" Winter roared, grabbing the edge of a nearby bench and flinging it down the hall. It slammed into the wall with a sharp bang. "You think I’m making this up? You think I’m losing it? They locked the Sector after they disappeared. Bale suddenly ’unavailable.’ The guards trying to stop me from marching in with my guns out. That bastard Adrian’s been circling them for weeks. I should’ve seen this coming. I should’ve—"
His voice cracked.
Just for a second.
He looked away.
"We need to think this through," Ima sighed.
"Think?" Winter rounded on her. "They took my family, Ima. You want me to sit here and think?"
"No," she said softly. "I want you to survive. So you can get them back."
Winter looked like he wanted to argue. His fists clenched. His breath came faster.
Then Miles said, "We’ll help. But not if you get yourself shot in the back first."
Winter stared at them. For a moment, he was that man on the street again, watching his house burn with his life still inside, surrounded by chaos, barely holding together.
Then he nodded once. Tense. Bitter.
"Fine."
He turned toward the dark hallway. "But I’m not staying here."
"Let’s go back to your place and make up a plan. We don’t know where they’ve taken her, we don’t want them to know we are on to them."
"C’mon," Ima said, pulling him away slowly.
*****
The halls of Sector 2 were drowned in a sterile red glow. Emergency lights blinked overhead like tired eyes, and the robotic voice on the speakers hadn’t stopped repeating its order:
"All personnel return to your assigned quarters. Sector 2 is in precautionary lockdown. This is not a drill."
Boots echoed sharply as Winter, Ima, and Miles moved briskly through the corridors. No one else was out. The place felt too quiet, like the base had already swallowed its secrets and was chewing slowly through the silence.
Winter kept his rifle close to his chest, eyes cutting from hallway to hallway as they turned corners. Every open door, every inactive security bot, every static-flooded camera only deepened the knot in his gut.
"They knew," he muttered, barely audible. "Someone gave the damn order the second I found the room empty."
"Winter, slow down," Ima said, her voice a calm anchor. "We need a plan, not a trail of bodies."
He ignored her, powering forward. "Zara doesn’t leave that room. She wouldn’t. Not without telling me. Not unless someone made her."
They passed an overturned service cart, medical supplies scattered like bones. Miles paused to glance down at a dropped IV bag.
"This place feels like a ghost town," he murmured. "Too neat. Too... staged."
"Because it is," Winter snapped. "They clean up quick when they’re hiding something."
Finally, they reached his unit. Winter punched in the override code and shoved the door open.
The apartment was still a mess, untouched since he’d stormed out. The couch cushions were askew, Leo’s stuffed bear was face down near the kitchen, and Zara’s favourite mug was shattered on the floor. He kicked it aside as he stepped inside.
Ima followed, closing the door quietly behind her.
Miles immediately peeled off to the walls, scanning the corners, running his hands under furniture and checking behind vents. "Give me a minute," he said. "If they bugged the room, I’ll find it."
Winter began to pace.
His boots scraped against the floor as he moved back and forth, jaw clenched, fists twitching at his sides. The rage hadn’t cooled. It had only condensed into something denser—something volcanic.
"They planned this. They waited for me to leave her alone," he said through his teeth. "Adrian’s the front, but he’s not working alone. Bale’s part of it, or at least covering for someone. There’s no way this is just a personal grudge."
Ima leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We don’t have proof yet. You said there were no security feeds?"
"Wiped. Comms destroyed. But that’s the proof in itself."
Miles pulled a small round device from under the couch. "Camera, micro-size. Active. Linked to an internal channel, probably scrubbed every twelve hours."
Winter stopped pacing. "Dammit."
"Calm down," Ima said quickly. "We’ll use this. It’s something."
"It’s nothing compared to them being gone!" he roared, whirling on her. "They took my son. My wife. And I let it happen."
"No one’s saying it’s your fault," she said evenly. "But if you don’t keep your head, they win."
He turned away, pacing again. "I should’ve known. I felt something was off. The tension. The way Bale brushed off our debrief. Like he was just buying time."
Miles returned, brushing dust off his hands. "Room’s clear now. No more eyes on us."
"So what now?" Ima asked.
Winter stopped. "I go. I find them."
"Where? They could’ve taken her anywhere inside the base. Hell, outside the base."
"Then I’ll tear the whole place apart until I find a thread to pull."
Before either could respond, a sudden, firm knock echoed from the front door.
Three slow taps.
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