The Break Line

The world was fire, ash, and screaming.

Alex gripped the rifle tighter, his blood-slick fingers slipping on the trigger guard. He leaned against a shattered wall, breath ragged, one eye nearly swollen shut. Smoke coiled through the air like a living thing. The sky was gray with it.

Below him, the last wave of children—those too young to fight—were being ushered toward the docks.

Their only escape.

The enemy had regrouped. Fifty mercs, maybe more. Black-clad, armored, moving with precision. The only reason the children were still alive was that the mercs hadn’t expected this much resistance.

But now they were done playing.

Alex’s earpiece crackled. Leo’s voice came through, panicked.

“South corridor’s overrun. We need more time at the gate!”

“I’ll hold them,” Alex said, already moving.

“Alex, no—!”

He ripped the piece from his ear and hurled it aside.

The docks were in sight.

A single speedboat—small, military-grade—rocked in the water. They’d already taken down the two men guarding it. Leo and Dorian were loading kids on board, yelling instructions.

“Two minutes!” Leo called. “That’s all we’ve got!”

Sofia was behind them, leading the injured. Jonah fought with a broken bat, limping badly, but still swinging.

Then—gunfire.

Not near the boat.

Behind them.

Too close.

Alex turned. A squad of mercs broke through the courtyard, sprinting down the narrow hill toward the docks.

If they made it—
It was over.

Alex raised the rifle.

His vision blurred.

He fired anyway.

One down. Two. Three.
The others ducked.

He staggered into the open, drawing their fire.

RATATAT.

Bullets tore the concrete around him. One caught his leg. He dropped to his knees. Another hit his side—again.

Blood poured from his hip.

He forced himself to his feet. Raised the rifle again.

Fired.

Empty.

The mercs advanced.

Then—

BOOM.

An explosion rocked the hill—Mira, from behind the trees, had detonated the emergency fuel tanks they'd rigged earlier.

The blast shredded half the squad.

The rest scattered.

Alex fell backward, coughing blood.

At the docks

Leo turned.

“Where’s Alex!?”

No answer.

He looked at Sofia—her face was pale, streaked with ash and tears. “We have to go!”

“We can’t leave him!” she shouted.

“We have to.”

Sofia looked toward the hill.

Nothing.

Then—

A figure.
Staggering.
Covered in smoke and blood.
One arm dragging.
Eyes locked forward.

Alex.

Sofia ran to meet him.

He collapsed into her arms.

“I held the line,” he whispered.

She sobbed. “You idiot.”

They carried him to the boat.

Jonah climbed in last, holding the trigger switch for a charge they’d planted on the docks. If anyone followed—they’d be vaporized.

The boat launched.

Waves slammed the hull.

Behind them, the island burned.

Sirens finally echoed across the water—real ones. Helicopters in the distance. Police. Coast Guard. They were coming too late.

Alex lay at the bottom of the boat, vision fading.

Leo leaned over him. “We made it.”

Alex smiled weakly.

“Not all of us.”

His eyes closed.