Chapter 7 - The RidgeThe rain outside the tunnel was a horizontal sheet of freezing mist driven by gale-force winds off the Atlantic.
We scrambled out of the concrete exit chute onto a jagged, slippery rock shelf carved into the base of the towering Milton cliffs. Below us, the black, churning waves crashed violently against the jagged boulders, sending plumes of white foam spraying ten feet into the air.
“Stay close to the wall!” Roman shouted over the roar of the storm, grabbing my arm to steady me as my sneakers slipped on the wet stone.
Titan moved ahead of us with supernatural agility, his powerful paws finding purchase on the treacherous terrain as if he were walking across a hardwood floor. He was our scout, sniffing the wind and picking the safest path through the labyrinth of boulders.
Suddenly, a brilliant beam of white light swept down from the cliff edge far above us.
“Movement on the lower shelf! Sector Seven!” a harsh voice barked through a tactical loudspeaker from the clifftop.
A volley of submachine gun fire chewed into the stone face just inches above our heads, sending razor-sharp granite shrapnel stinging across my cheeks.
“Down!” Roman yelled, tackling me flat against the wet rock behind a massive boulder just as a second burst of gunfire sparked bright orange against the dark stone.
I squeezed my eyes shut, clutching the submachine gun to my chest like a lifeline, my heart hammering so hard I thought my ribs would crack. This wasn't a movie. This wasn't a thriller novel. This was cold, wet, terrifying reality, and I was seconds away from dying on a freezing rock in Boston.
“Emily,” Roman’s voice cut through the storm, steady and calm right beside my ear.
I opened my eyes. Roman was peering around the edge of the boulder, his weapon raised, tracking the movement of a flashlight beam sweeping down the rocky switchback path above us.
“They’re cutting off our route to the cove,” Roman said, assessing the tactical situation with cold detachment. “We have to climb the vertical fissure to the upper ridge.”
“Are you insane? That cliff face is sheer rock!” I shouted over the wind.
“It’s our only option. If we stay on the waterline, we’re fish in a barrel.” Roman turned to me, his dark gaze locking onto mine with absolute command. “Can you do it?”
I looked up at the towering, dark wall of stone cutting vertically into the storm-laden sky. My hands were already scraped and bleeding, my muscles trembling from exhaustion and adrenaline. But then I looked at Titan, who sat patiently beside the rock wall, staring up at us with absolute loyalty.
I took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped the rain from my eyes, and nodded. “Lead the way.”
Roman moved first, scaling the wet rock face with ruthless, calculated efficiency, utilizing iron handholds carved into the cliff decades ago for maintenance crews.
“Follow his exact foot placement,” Roman instructed, reaching down to grab my hand as I hauled myself up onto the first ledge.
We climbed together, hand over hand, the freezing wind threatening to tear us loose with every gust. Below us, the dark ocean roared like a hungry beast, waiting to swallow any misstep.
Just as my fingers caught the final iron ring at the top of the ridge, a shout echoed from the darkness below.
“There they are! Fire!”
A bullet clipped the shoulder of my jacket, tearing the fabric and grazing the ballistic plate beneath with a sharp thwack.
“Hurry!” Roman roared, hauling me bodily over the edge of the cliff onto the flat, grassy plateau above just as a wall of fire erupted behind us.
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The entire base of the cliff seemed to shudder, a muffled, concussive boom echoing up through the stone as Roman’s automated self-destruct sequence finally detonated the lower subterranean bunker, swallowing our pursuers in a fiery collapse of concrete and steel.
We collapsed onto the wet grass, gasping for air, the orange glow of the distant explosion illuminating the stormy night sky.
