PART I

9:18 a.m.
Riverside Union Medical Center was already vibrating with the kind of energy that made new interns sweat and veteran nurses swear under their breath. Phones ringing. Gurneys rattling. The sharp smell of antiseptic mixing with burnt coffee from the night shift.

And standing in the middle of the trauma director’s office—gloves still stained with a Delta Force general’s blood—was Eva Weston.

Her jaw was tight. Her shoulders straight. But her eyes burned with something deeper than anger. Something closer to disappointment.

Across from her, Director Harold Hail glared like a judge about to deliver a sentence he’d rehearsed all night.

“You’re done here,” he said sharply.

Eva didn’t flinch.

“No authorization, no protocol,” Hail continued, voice rising. “You crossed the line, Weston. You endangered a patient.”

Eva’s heartbeat stayed calm. Her breaths measured.

“He wasn’t crashing,” she said quietly. “He was poisoned and none of you saw it.”

Hail’s nostrils flared.
“You’re a nurse. Not a doctor. Not a toxicologist. Not military command. You do not make those decisions.”

Eva removed her gloves slowly, the latex peeling away with a soft snap.

“I made the decision that saved his life.”

Hail slammed his palms onto the desk.

“Turn in your badge before I call security.”

For a moment, Eva stood perfectly still.

Then, without ceremony, she reached into her scrub pocket, pulled out her ID badge, and set it gently on the polished wood.

The silence felt like an earthquake. Not loud—just inevitable.

She turned and walked out.

No argument.
No plea.
No apology.

Just quiet dignity.

The kind that made the director even angrier because he knew—deep down—that she was right.

The hallway outside the office felt colder than usual. Nurses who had shared night shifts, holidays, and trauma calls with her suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes. Clipboard shields rose like excuses. Snippets of whispered judgment drifted through the air.

“She’s a nurse, not a doctor.”
“She overstepped.”
“She’s always been too confident.”

Eva ignored it.

She had thicker scars than their opinions. Scars that came from deserts, not hospitals. From missions nobody knew she survived. From a team that never made it home.

She reached the main lobby, almost to the front doors—

When the windows began to tremble.

Just faintly at first.

A ripple in the glass.

A vibration in the floor.

Not violent, but deep—too deep for wind, too low for traffic.

A receptionist looked up, confused. “Is… is that an earthquake?”

Another tremor.
Then another.

A young resident stepped closer to the glass.
“No… that’s… that’s a helicopter.”

The lobby erupted into motion. Nurses rushed toward the stairwell. Doctors shoved aside carts to make a path. Security jogged toward the roof access.

Eva froze mid-stride.

A helicopter?
Landing here?

Before she could move, the tremors intensified—the unmistakable rhythm of military-grade rotors slicing the air.

Dust shook from the vents. Paperwork fluttered to the floor.
Someone shouted from upstairs:

“THAT’S NAVY! THAT’S A NAVY HELICOPTER!”

The entire hospital jolted with a single realization:

No one lands a Navy chopper on a civilian hospital unless something is very, very wrong.

The roof was a hurricane of wind and noise.

Gray metal. Spinning blades. Dust curling off the landing pad in violent spirals.

The moment the rotors slowed, uniformed personnel spilled out—not wandering, not confused, but scanning with precision.

They weren’t looking for a patient.

They weren’t looking for a doctor.

They were looking for someone specific.

A voice bellowed across the roof, echoing through every level of the hospital.

“WE NEED EVA WESTON!”

Below, the lobby went silent.

Doctors froze mid-step.

Nurses looked at each other, wide-eyed.

Director Hail turned chalk white.

Because in that moment, in that humiliating, catastrophic moment, everyone realized:

They hadn’t just fired a nurse.
They had fired the only combat-trained medic in the entire building.

The only person who recognized the neurotoxin.

The only one who could keep the general alive.

The only one the U.S. military trusted enough to call by name.

He had come in just after 9:00 a.m.

The general.
Blue blazer. Medals along the lapel. A face carved from years of hard service.

And he had been dying.

Not from heart failure, as the board-certified physicians believed.
Not from cardiac collapse, as the ER lead insisted.

But from a toxin so rare even military hospitals barely had protocols for it.

Eva had known instantly.

The tight jaw.
The muscle lock.
The pupils contracting too fast under the light.
The faint purple shadow under the nails.

She had seen it once before—in a desert outpost where she and Echo Team were told to evacuate and instead found themselves standing in the middle of a biochemical testing site they were never supposed to witness.

She knew the signs.

She knew the timeline.

She knew the antidote.

And she knew that if she waited even ten more seconds for Dr. Meyers to debate atropine dosages, the general would die.

So she moved.

She went to the tox tray.

She found the vial most hospitals never touched.

She injected it before anyone could stop her—

And for a terrifying moment, the monitor flatlined.

Everyone yelled.

She stayed calm.

“One second…
two…
three…”

A pulse hit the screen.

The general’s eyes snapped open.

His hand reached for her.

His voice cracked, almost pleading:

“Ava… you weren’t supposed to survive.”

Those words—those impossible words—had ripped the past open like a wound she’d fought to keep shut.

She didn’t respond.
She didn’t have time to.

Director Hail was already dragging her away.

Firing her.

Condemning her.

And now?

Now a helicopter full of Navy officers had landed on the roof, calling for the woman he’d just thrown out of his hospital like trash.

A uniformed officer barreled down the stairwell. The moment his boots hit the lobby floor, he scanned the room with lethal efficiency.

His eyes locked on her instantly.

“You. Eva Weston.”

She didn’t answer.

She just met his gaze.

“You need to come with me. Now.”

Director Hail stormed forward, puffed up like a man who believed he still had authority.

“She’s no longer an employee. She is barred from—”

The officer cut him off with a single step forward.

“With respect, sir—
I’m not here to ask.”

His voice held steel.

“The general woke up asking for her by name.”

Hail’s eyes darted between Eva and the officers.

“She violated hospital policy—”

“She saved his life,” the officer snapped. “And we have orders to bring her to him.”

“You can’t override—”

The officer leaned in, voice cold enough to freeze bone.

“When a decorated Delta Force general gives a direct request, protocol is not your concern. His survival is.”

Hail stumbled back.

The lobby stayed silent.

Everyone’s eyes were on Eva now.

The woman they dismissed.
The woman they whispered about.
The woman they fired.

They had no idea who she really was.

And most of them couldn’t imagine the truth—

That Eva Weston had once been the combat medic of Echo Team.
A team whose files were burned.
Whose deaths were classified.
Whose stories were buried deeper than the desert that swallowed them.

A team she was told never existed.

A team she watched die.

Or thought she had.

Until today.

Because the general recognized the toxin—

And told her the words that reshaped everything she believed:

“Echo Team didn’t all die. Someone else survived.”

Someone using the same poison.

Someone inside the hospital.

Someone finishing the job they started at the outpost.

Her throat tightened.

This wasn’t a rescue mission.

This was a warning.

If the Navy had come for her…

…then the threat wasn’t coming.

It was already here.

“Nurse Weston,” the officer said, stepping close enough she could smell salt and jet fuel clinging to his uniform, “the general is deteriorating again. Whatever was used on him—he says you’re the only medic alive who’s treated it.”

A chill ran down her spine.

Alive.

The word hit harder than any blow.

Because she knew what it really meant.

Someone out there thought she wasn’t supposed to be.

Someone believed she died in that outpost, along with the rest of her team.

Someone who used the same toxin today.

Someone who had just walked past her coworkers wearing a surgical mask and fake scrubs.

Someone inside her hospital.

Her pulse quickened.

A memory flashed—grainy, violent:

Reed Dalton.
Her second-in-command.
Her mentor.
Her friend.
Her ghost.

She felt the world tilt.

No.
Impossible.

Reed was dead.

He had to be.

But the poison…
the technique…
the precision…

It all pointed to someone with Echo Team training.

Her breath shook.

She didn’t argue anymore.

Didn’t hesitate.

Because the general’s warning replayed in her mind:

“Whoever hit us… they’re here. Inside.”

Eva lifted her chin.

“Take me to the roof.”

The officer nodded.

And as they climbed the stairwell, alarms began to blare overhead.

Code Red.
ICU collapse.
Another victim.

Another poisoning.

Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs.

This was no longer about saving a general.

This was about stopping a ghost.

A ghost wearing hospital scrubs… walking the halls where she once saved lives.

A ghost who should have died with Echo Team.

PART II

Eva Weston didn’t even feel her feet on the stairs as she followed the Navy officer toward the rooftop. The alarms blared overhead—shrill, panicked, echoing through every hallway. Staff scattered like birds under gunfire. Someone shouted for crash carts. Someone else yelled about quarantine protocols.

It wasn’t chaos.

It was the exact opposite.

It was strategy.

Someone was moving through the hospital with purpose.

Someone trained.

Someone Echo Team once trusted with their lives.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs as she reached the rooftop door.

The officer pushed it open.

Wind blasted her face.

The helicopter squatted on the landing pad like a black steel beast, rotors still spinning down, wind chopping at the air with vicious force.

Two Navy medics flanked the stretcher inside the cabin.

On it—
The general.

Gray skin.
Clenched jaw.
Hands twitching with the beginning of neuromuscular lock.

He was slipping again.

The antidote she gave him had stalled the poison… but hadn’t neutralized its source.

The moment his eyes landed on her, he reached out weakly.

“Eva… hurry.”

She stepped forward, gripping the stretcher rail.

“What happened? You were stabilizing.”

His voice cracked, barely audible over the dying rotors.

“Another dose… someone got to the IV… they’re here.”

The words hit harder than any blast Eva had survived.

“Who?” she whispered.

His fingers tightened around her wrist.

“You know who.”

Her stomach dropped.

Reed.

“General…” she breathed, “Reed’s dead. He died in the blast.”

“No,” the general rasped. “You saw a helmet. Not a body. Not him. He walked out while you were buried. They pulled him into black operations. And now…” His eyes flicked toward the stairwell door. “Now he’s finishing the purge.”

A wave of cold rolled down Eva’s spine.

If Reed Dalton was alive—

If Reed Dalton was poisoning military officers—

If Reed Dalton was inside this hospital—

Then everyone at Riverside Union Medical Center was in danger.

And he hadn’t just come for the general.

He had come for her.

The Navy commander jogged across the pad, shouting over the wind.

“We need her downstairs NOW. Second victim’s crashing in ICU!”

Eva snapped to attention.

“What are the symptoms?”

“Same as the general,” he said. “Purple nail beds. Trismus. Uneven respirations. They went down hard.”

The general grabbed Eva again, voice shaking.

“He was with me. My comms officer. Reed knows he talked.”

Eva’s breath caught.

Reed was cleaning house.

Everyone who knew the truth about Echo Team—the real truth, not the sanitized report—was being targeted.

And she was next.

She turned to the commander.

“Bring me to ICU. Now.”

He nodded sharply.

They rushed into the stairwell, boots hammering down metal steps. The rotors above roared like a war machine waking from sleep. Eva’s hair whipped around her face. She pushed it back impatiently.

As they descended through the building, the alarms began to shift—changing pitch, changing wings, growing closer.

Code Red.
ICU breach.

Her skin crawled.

They reached the first floor landing, then turned toward the ICU corridor.

The lights flickered overhead, a soft stuttering glow.

The air tasted wrong—like antiseptic mixed with something else. Something metallic.

A nurse met them halfway, breathless.

“He collapsed right in front of us,” she said. “Pulse was thready. He couldn’t breathe. We tried calling tox—”

“Where is he now?” Eva asked.

“Room 14.”

Eva sprinted.

The commander and guards followed.

Room 14 was packed—nurses huddled near the sink, watching the man on the bed with wide, terrified eyes.

The comms officer lay motionless, skin already paling, sweat rolling down his forehead.

Eva moved to his side, immediately noticing the telltale signs the others missed:

The faint blue halo around the lips.
The slight twitching in the throat muscles.
The delayed pupillary constriction.

“Neurotoxin,” she whispered. “Same strain.”

The commander cursed behind her.

Eva checked the IV line.

The bag looked untouched.

Too untouched.

She knelt.

A single drop of clear fluid clung to the floor tile beneath the stand.

Oily sheen.

Only visible if you’d seen it before.

Eva closed her eyes, stomach sinking.

“The poisoner used the IV line,” she said. “Who hung this?”

A nurse swallowed hard.

“Rachel. Night shift.”

Eva stood sharply.

“Rachel hasn’t worked night shifts in three months.”

The nurse’s face drained of color.

The commander stepped closer.
“What are you saying?”

Eva pointed down the hallway.

“We have an intruder in this hospital disguised as staff.”

One of the guards muttered, “Christ…”

But Eva wasn’t finished.

“And he’s not improvising. He’s following patterns. He’s using medical routes. He knows this building.”

The commander stiffened.

“Are you saying—”

“Yes,” she said. “Reed Dalton is alive.”

The room froze.

“Reed?” the commander repeated. “Your Echo teammate?”

Eva nodded once.

“He’s here.”

Before the shock could settle, the overhead speakers crackled, blasting through every floor:

“CODE RED. UNAUTHORIZED BREACH IN PHARMACOLOGY.
REPEAT — CODE RED. BREACH IN PHARMACOLOGY.”

The commander swore.

“He’s going for controlled substances.”

“No,” Eva corrected, breath trembling.

“He’s going for more toxin.”

Then she pointed at the ICU vent.

“And he’s going to release it through the ventilation system.”

The commander’s eyes widened.

“That would kill—”

“Everyone,” Eva said. “It would kill everyone.”

They ran.

Through the ICU.
Down the hall.
Past trembling nurses.
Past stunned doctors.
Past patients staring in confusion at the alarms.

Eva’s boots slapped the tiles in rapid rhythm. Her lungs burned. Sweat formed at her brow.

The pharmacology wing was locked behind glass doors—but today they were hanging open, vials smashed across the floor like broken ice.

Light flickered overhead.

The security screen above the door played a grainy loop of the last recorded intruder.

A figure in scrubs.

Mask on.

Head turned downward.

But the posture—

God.

The posture.

Eva felt her throat close.

She stepped closer to the monitor.

“Rewind.”

The guard obeyed.

The figure stepped into frame again.

The slight pivot of the foot.
The drop of the shoulder.
The angle of the jaw.
The confidence.

Not cocky.

Trained.

Echo Team trained.

Her voice broke.

“I know that walk.”

The commander looked at her sharply.

“Are you sure?”

Eva stared at the screen.

Her eyes stung.

Her knees weakened.

She whispered the name like a ghost:

“Reed…”

He hadn’t died.

He hadn’t been consumed by the fire.

He had walked out.

He had betrayed them.

He had become exactly what Echo Team feared they’d uncover.

A weapon.

The hallway turned quiet enough to hear the hum of machines.

Then—

“INTRUDER SPOTTED HEADING TOWARD EAST WING!
SUSPECT WANTED IN PEDIATRICS!”

Pediatrics.

Eva’s heart plummeted.

“That ward has the weakest air filtration,” she muttered. “If he activates the toxin there—”

The commander finished for her.

“Anyone downwind is dead.”

Eva broke into a full sprint.

The pediatrics wing was deceptively calm—soft pastel walls, cartoon stickers on the doors, a half-finished mural of a giraffe wearing a doctor’s coat.

It made the metallic taste of fear even worse.

A nurse pointed with shaking hands.

“He went… that way… isolation room…”

Eva moved ahead, silently, carefully.

The commander started to follow, but she held up a hand.

“No uniforms,” she whispered. “If he sees you, he’ll run. If he sees me…”

She swallowed hard.

“He’ll stay.”

The commander reluctantly nodded.

Eva inched toward the isolation room.

The door was slightly open.

A slow-moving shadow inside.

Her breath tightened.

She pushed the door open with one finger.

Dark.

Almost pitch-black.

Only the faint hum of the air purifier.

“Reed,” she whispered.

Silence.

Then the softest sound.

A footstep.

He emerged from behind the curtain like a ghost peeling back reality.

Mask on.
Gloves on.
Surgical scrubs.
But those eyes—

Those gray, sharp, haunted eyes—

Those were Reed Dalton’s.

Her anchor.
Her second-in-command.
The man who once told her she was the bravest soldier he’d ever trained.

Now staring at her like prey.

“Ava,” he said softly. “You’re alive.”

She shook.

“You… were supposed to be dead.”

He tilted his head.

“And you were supposed to stay buried.”

Her stomach flipped.

“What did they do to you?”

He laughed quietly.

“They told me the truth.”

Then he stepped closer.

“They told me we were disposable.”

Her heart cracked.

“You killed the general,” she whispered. “You poisoned the comms officer. You left trails. Why?”

Reed’s voice softened.

“Because Echo Team was never meant to speak again.”

Her eyes stung.

“You survived. Why didn’t you come for me?”

“I did,” he said coldly. “I came to finish the job.”

Her body locked.

Reed lifted a vial between his fingers—clear poison glinting under the dim light.

“Take one step,” he warned, “and I’ll gas this entire wing.”

Her breath shook.

“Reed… these are children.”

“Collateral damage,” he murmured.

“No,” she said, her voice breaking. “That’s not who you are.”

He stepped closer.

“That’s exactly who I became.”

The commander’s voice whispered through her earpiece.

“Eva? Do you need backup?”

She almost answered.

But then Reed’s hand tightened on the vial.

His eyes followed the sound of distant boots approaching.

He threw the vial toward the floor.

“No!”

Eva lunged.

Faster than training, faster than instinct—

Her fingers grazed the vial midair, redirecting its arc—

It hit the wall.

Shattered sideways.

She grabbed the curtain and smothered the burst, sealing the vapor before it spread.

The air purifier roared, sucking the toxic cloud into its filters.

Reed cursed and bolted.

Eva tore into the hallway, chasing him.

Toward the stairwell.
Toward the basement.
Toward the ventilation system.

Her breath ragged.

Her muscles screaming.

Her nightmares alive again.

The chase had begun.

And if he reached the ventilation controls—

Everyone in the hospital would die.

Understood — I will write PART III immediately.
No questions. No delays.
Minimum 2000+ words, dramatic, American style, following your exact provided content without adding irrelevant material.

The Director Fired Her for Saving the General — Minutes Later, a Navy Helicopter Landed on the Roof

PART III — THE HUNT THROUGH THE UNDERLEVELS

(~2500 words)

Eva Weston tore down the stairwell so fast her vision blurred. The walls pulsed with the rhythm of alarms, and every red flash felt like a countdown toward something irreversible.

Her boots slammed each metal step:

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Behind her, the Navy commander and two guards sprinted to keep up.

But Eva wasn’t slowing.

Reed Dalton was alive.
Reed Dalton was poisoning people.
And Reed Dalton—the man she once trusted with her life—was trying to gas an entire hospital.

Her lungs burned, but she didn’t care.

She had lost her team once.
She wasn’t going to lose 600 civilians today.

“HE’S HEADING TO THE VENTILATION CONTROL!” she shouted over her shoulder.

The commander gritted his teeth.

“If he hits that main valve—this whole place becomes a tomb!”

Eva didn’t respond.

She didn’t have enough breath to waste.

Because down in the belly of the hospital—the underlevels—was a long stretch of industrial tunnels known only to facilities staff and EMTs.

Cold concrete.
Old pipes.
A ventilation system so massive that one wrong turn could push a lethal gas through every patient room in seconds.

And Reed knew those tunnels.

Of course he did.

Echo Team trained to map buildings by sound and pressure shifts. Reed could navigate blindfolded. He could track footfalls through concrete. He could disappear into shadows thinner than paper.

He would be using every skill they once learned together.

Every skill that once kept her alive.

Now aimed at killing her.

The stairwell opened into the basement with a long metallic groan.

The moment Eva stepped onto the concrete, the air shifted.

Cold.
Sterile.
Mechanical.

The hum of generators rattled the floor under her boots.

Pipes crisscrossed the ceiling like steel arteries.

High-voltage signs glowed faintly.

And somewhere in this maze, Reed Dalton was moving like a phantom.

The commander jogged up beside her.

“This whole area’s a damn labyrinth.”

Eva nodded.

“He’ll go for the main control panel. East side. Behind the boiler stacks.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s what I’d do.”

The commander’s eyes flickered with a mix of trust and fear.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

“No,” Eva admitted. “But I don’t get to quit.”

They advanced through the shadows, stepping over coils of wiring, past supply crates, past humming machines that vibrated like sleeping beasts.

But Eva didn’t look around.

She listened.

For footsteps.

For metal shifting.

For breathing.

For the ghost she never thought would return.

Her heart hammered harder with each step.

Then—

In the distance—

A clang.

Metal against metal.

The commander tensed. “He’s up ahead!”

Eva raised a fist—signal to slow.

The guards adjusted their rifles.

Eva crouched behind a row of oxygen tanks, peering into the dim aisles.

The underlevels were a maze of industrial lights—most working, some flickering like dying stars.

Shadows crawled across the pipes.

Then—

Movement.

A shifting silhouette around the corner.

Reed.

He moved fast, but not like someone running away.

Like someone preparing.

Eva whispered to the commander:

“He’s setting something up.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Reed always builds traps when cornered.”

The commander’s expression darkened.

“Then we flank him.”

Eva shook her head hard.

“No. If you approach with rifles, he’ll panic and open the toxin valve. Let me go first.”

“Eva—”

“I trained under him. I know how he thinks. I can predict his angles.”

The commander hesitated.

“Alright,” he said reluctantly. “But we’re right behind you.”

Eva inhaled slowly.

Steadied her breath.

Then slipped around the corner—alone.

The passage ahead stretched long, lined on one side by ventilation ducts and on the other by industrial boilers towering like rusted giants.

Steam hissed from a cracked pipe overhead, painting the air in a thin mist.

Eva stepped forward carefully, eyes adjusting to the low light.

A flicker of movement.

Her pulse spiked.

She turned—

And froze.

Reed Dalton stood twenty feet away.

Mask down.
Gloves on.
Canister strapped to his chest like a vest of death.

He was facing the main valve panel.

Hands poised.

Ready.

Eva’s voice came out as a whisper, shaking despite her efforts.

“Reed… don’t.”

He didn’t turn around immediately.

Just let her voice settle into the cold space like dust.

Finally, he spoke—quiet, almost conversational.

“You followed me.”
He paused.
“You always were stubborn.”

She swallowed.

“Step away from the panel.”

He laughed softly.

“Eva, you of all people know better. You were there. You saw what they did. What they turned us into.”

“Stop,” she said. “Don’t rewrite history. Don’t make us victims to justify murder.”

Reed turned.

And this time she could see his eyes fully.

They were the same gray eyes she used to trust.

But hollowed out.
Weathered.
Haunted.

As if something inside him had broken—and been left broken for years.

“You think I’m rewriting anything?” he asked quietly. “No. I’m finishing it.”

He stepped closer.

Eva didn’t move.

“Back at the outpost,” Reed continued, “we uncovered something—something we weren’t supposed to see. They buried Echo Team. Wiped our files. Called us collateral damage.”

He lifted the canister.

“They didn’t expect one of us to crawl out.”

Eva clenched her fists.

“So you kill people now? That’s your justice?”

Reed shook his head slowly.

“No, Eva.”
He lifted the canister.
“That’s survival.”

“THIS isn’t survival!” she shouted. “This is slaughter!”

Reed’s voice turned cold.

“And what they did to us was what?”

Silence.

Concrete-thick.

Eva stepped forward.

“One more victim won’t undo what happened.”

Reed’s lips twitched beneath his mask.

“You think I’m doing this for myself?”

He pointed at the ceiling.

“The general. His comms officer. They were about to leak classified documents. Documents that name the people who greenlit the toxin.”

Her breath caught.

“The same people who bombed our outpost.”

Reed nodded.

“They’re not just covering up Echo Team, Eva. They’re covering up a weapon.”

Eva’s heart thudded painfully.

“Why me?” she whispered. “Why come for me?”

His voice softened in a way that twisted her stomach.

“Because you survived.”

His eyes flicked to her bracelet—the one from her father, the one she’d worn every day since.

“You weren’t supposed to.”

Eva’s fingers curled.

“I’m not a threat.”

Reed tilted his head.

“You’re the biggest threat they have. Because you saw the toxin’s effects firsthand. Because you lived. Because you saved the general when he was supposed to die on that stretcher.”

Eva’s pulse roared in her ears.

“You’re wrong,” she said.

Reed smirked.

“And you’re naive.”

He turned for the panel.

Eva moved.

Fast.

She lunged at him, grabbing his wrist.

Reed reacted instantly—slamming her into the wall hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs.

Pain exploded down her spine.

But she held on.

Reed reached for the valve.

Eva grabbed his arm, twisting.

He shoved her again.

She hit the railing with a grunt.

“Stay down, Eva,” he warned. “Walk away. I’m giving you a chance I never got.”

“Not happening.”

She launched herself forward, tackling him.

They crashed to the floor.

Reed tried to reach the canister valve.
Eva grabbed his sleeve, pulling him back.
He slammed an elbow into her ribs.
She gasped—but didn’t let go.

“You should have stayed buried,” Reed hissed.

“You should have stayed loyal,” she shot back.

He swung at her again, but she caught his wrist mid-strike—a move he’d taught her years ago.

For a fraction of a second, Reed froze.

“You remember,” he breathed.

She met his eyes, voice cracking.

“I remember everything.”

Then she twisted his wrist—hard.

He shouted.
The canister rolled away.
Eva dove for it—
Reed grabbed her ankle—
She kicked free—
Her fingers closed around the valve—

And she tore the metal seal straight off.

The canister hissed.

A small burst of vapor escaped.

Eva held it away from her face, heart hammering, praying she’d cracked the right chamber.

The hissing stopped.

The interior gauge dropped.

Neutralized.

Reed’s face twisted in rage.

“You just killed yourself.”

Eva stood slowly, canister in hand, chest rising and falling with sharp breaths.

“No,” she said. “I saved everyone else.”

Reed growled—low, animal-like.

“You don’t understand what they’ll do now. You exposed everything.”

Eva’s eyes glistened.

“So did you.”

His shoulders slumped.

And for a moment—

For the briefest, fragile moment—

She saw the man he used to be.

The soldier who shielded her from explosions.
The mentor who taught her how to patch wounds in sandstorms.
The friend who held her hand the night Echo Team lost their first member.

But then that moment died in his eyes.

He lunged.

The commander’s voice roared:

“DOWN!”

Three guards tackled Reed to the ground.

He thrashed once—twice—
Then stopped.

His mask slipped off.

His face bruised.
Eyes wild.
Tears streaking down dirt.

“Eva…” he whispered. “You should’ve let me die back there.”

She stared at him, chest tight.

“You weren’t supposed to die,” she murmured. “You were supposed to come home.”

He shook his head.

“There was no home after that.”

The guards cuffed him.

His head dropped forward.

Hands limp.

Fight gone.

Eva stepped back, suddenly unsteady.

The commander approached her carefully.

“Weston… you okay?”

She brushed a shaking hand across her cheek.

“I don’t know.”

He studied her.

Then nodded toward the elevator.

“The general is stable. The Pentagon wants to debrief you as soon as we get Reed into custody.”

Eva inhaled deeply.

She looked at Reed one last time.

The ghost she had chased.
The friend she had lost twice.
The man she could not save.

Then she turned toward the elevator.

Her path was clear.

Her choice was made.

The shadow she’d run from for years had finally caught her.

It was time to stop running.

PART IV

They moved Reed Dalton through the hospital basement like a captured animal, his wrists cuffed, his head lowered, two guards flanking him on each side. The commander walked ahead, issuing clipped instructions into his comms headset.

Eva kept her distance, her breaths tight, her hands trembling despite the adrenaline still flooding her system.

The weight of everything pressed against her chest—
The general nearly dying.
The comms officer collapsing.
Reed poisoning the hospital.
Reed alive.
Reed hunting her.
Reed trying to kill innocent people to bury Echo Team’s truth.

And the twisted nightmare Eva had tried to bury for years rising from the ashes to swallow her life again.

She had always feared this day.

She never imagined she would win it.

But the victory didn’t feel like triumph.

It felt like loss.

Deep, hollow loss.

Reed’s voice echoed in her memory, soft and broken:

“You should’ve let me die back there.”

She swallowed hard.

She couldn’t think about that—not yet.
Not until she ensured the rest of the hospital was safe.

The elevator doors hissed open.

The commander gestured.

“Upstairs. The Pentagon wants a statement.”

Eva stiffened.

“What about the comms officer?”

“We stabilized him,” the commander said. “He’ll live.”

“And the general?”

“Holding strong. And he wants to see you.”

Her stomach twisted.

“Later,” she whispered. “After the debrief.”

The commander nodded.

But Eva didn’t miss the flicker of respect in his eyes.

Not pity.
Not sympathy.

Respect.

The kind soldiers gave each other after surviving something unspeakable.

The elevator rose toward the roof.

It was a long, silent ascent.

Eva stood in the corner, staring at the metallic reflections in the doors.

She could still feel the pressure of Reed’s wrist in her grip.
Still hear the crack when she disarmed him.
Still taste the sterile bitterness of the toxin in the air.
Still feel the hospital floor rumble beneath her boots as alarms blared.

She had buried Echo Team’s mission deep inside her mind, locked behind walls she built out of sheer will.

But walls only held as long as the ghosts stayed quiet.

Reed had broken them.

Every memory spilled back:

The desert heat.
The gunfire.
The blinding explosion.
The screams.
The silence that followed.
The realization she was the only one breathing in the rubble.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She hadn’t been ready to face that nightmare again.

But she had.

She’d faced it head-on.

The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime.

Cool morning air rushed in.

The Navy helicopter waited on the pad like a shadowed sentinel, rotors still. A handful of officers stood nearby, clipboards in hand, earpieces buzzing.

No cameras.
No reporters.
No hospital staff.

This wasn’t for public record.

This was for people far above them.

People with clearance levels higher than truth.

The commander gestured at a small portable command tent set up beside the helipad.

“Debrief is inside. High ranking visitors.”

Eva hesitated.

“Who exactly?”

“Government officials,” he said vaguely. “Pentagon. Defense Intelligence. Maybe higher.”

Eva’s jaw tightened.

“Meaning the people Reed says framed Echo Team.”

The commander didn’t answer directly.

He didn’t need to.

Eva took a breath.

“Let’s get it over with.”

Inside the tent was a harsh contrast to the chaos of the hospital.

Cold metal tables.
A row of computers.
A massive display screen showing maps of the region.
A sealed black case that looked like it held classified material.
Three men and one woman in formal uniforms.

Not medical.
Not Navy.

Higher.

The kind of people who lived entire lives in shadows.

As Eva stepped in, they all turned toward her.

Their eyes sharpened—studying her, evaluating her, calculating.

She felt stripped bare.

A tall man with silver hair and a jaw like a granite cliff stepped forward.

“Eva Weston,” he said. “Former tactical medic, Echo Unit. Current civilian nurse.” He extended a hand. “I’m General Stone.”

She didn’t shake it.

Stone’s lips curved with something like amusement.

The woman—dark suit, sharper eyes—spoke next.

“Agent Morgan. Defense Intelligence Agency.”

The younger man stepped forward, expression softer.

“Evan Cross. Analyst, Joint Threat Response.”

He offered a weak smile.

Eva didn’t return it.

Stone stepped to the center table and tapped a button.

The display screen lit up with surveillance stills, satellite images, and internal hospital footage.

“Let’s begin,” Stone said.

Eva folded her arms.

“Start talking.”

The DIA agent raised a brow.

“You’re direct.”

“I don’t have time for anything else.”

Stone gestured toward the screen.

“In the last seventy-two hours, we’ve seen three assassination attempts using a classified neurotoxin.”

Eva interjected.

“The same one Echo Team uncovered in the desert four years ago.”

Stone nodded slowly.

“Yes.”

Eva felt her heart pound.

“So it never stopped. The program didn’t end.”

“We didn’t say that,” Agent Morgan corrected coldly. “We said you uncovered it.”

“Meaning someone else continued it.”

Silence.

Stone finally said:

“To be clear—Echo Team wasn’t supposed to stumble onto that facility.”

Eva’s jaw locked.

“We didn’t stumble anywhere. Command redirected us. We followed orders.”

Stone cleared his throat.

“And unfortunately, that redirection placed you in proximity to an unauthorized operation.”

Eva stepped closer, eyes blazing.

“You detonated the outpost.”

Agent Morgan’s lips tightened.

“That explosion was classified.”

Evan Cross whispered, “You weren’t supposed to survive.”

Eva’s breath hitched.

Stone shot the analyst a warning look.

But Eva had already stepped forward.

“So Reed was right,” she spat. “You buried us.”

“No,” Stone said firmly. “We contained a breach.”

“You killed my team.”

“No,” Morgan echoed. “We neutralized a threat. Echo Team encountered something they had no clearance for. That facility was operating outside approved oversight.”

Eva laughed—dark, humorless, raw.

“Meaning someone went rogue.”

Stone paused.

Then nodded, barely.

“Yes. Someone inside the government. Someone funding illegal biochemical development.”

“Reed told me he joined them,” Eva whispered.

Morgan exchanged a glance with Stone.

“Dalton disappeared after the outpost incident. We suspected he defected.”

Evan Cross added:

“He wasn’t the only one.”

Eva’s blood went cold.

“What?”

Stone turned the screen to a file labeled:
PROJECT SANDGLASS
—CLASSIFIED—
Former operatives:
• Reed Dalton
• Miles Carter
• Lena Ward
• “Unknown Fourth Candidate”

Eva’s pulse spiked.

“Unknown fourth…”

Morgan finished, voice low.

“That fourth was supposed to be you.”

Eva’s vision swayed.

“No.”

Stone folded his hands behind his back.

“They wanted you recruited. They believed your combat medic skills made you valuable.”

“I turned it down,” Eva whispered.

“You never had the chance,” Stone corrected coldly. “You were left for dead before the offer reached you.”

Eva stepped back, stomach churning.

“So Reed accepted.”

Stone nodded.

“And now he’s eliminating witnesses.”

Eva swallowed the lump rising in her throat.

“So what do you want from me?”

The DIA agent studied her carefully.

“You treated the toxin. Twice. Under pressure. Successfully.”

Stone added:

“You recognized signs our own physicians missed.”

Cross chimed in softly:

“You’re the only living medic who’s stabilized someone exposed to the compound. Reed was right about that.”

Eva stiffened.

“So you need me.”

Morgan nodded.

“We want to bring down the rogue cells still operating Sandglass.”

Stone leaned in.

“And we need you to testify.”

Eva froze.

“Testify? To what?”

Stone’s voice deepened.

“To what happened at the outpost. To the unauthorized program. To the toxin signatures.”

Eva felt her throat tighten.

“No.”

Morgan frowned. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Eva repeated, firmer. “My testimony will paint a target on my back. And on every patient in the hospital. Reed isn’t the only one left. He said there were others.”

Cross swallowed.
“There are.”

Stone stepped closer, expression grave.

“You’d have protection.”

Eva shook her head.

“I had ‘protection’ the last time. My entire unit still died.”

Silence fell like ash.

Stone inhaled slowly.

“Eva… we won’t force you. But understand this—everything that just happened today? It won’t be the last attack. And you’re the only person alive who can confirm the truth.”

She closed her eyes.

Her father’s voice echoed in her mind:

“Do the right thing, even when it breaks you.”

She opened her eyes again.

“I’ll testify,” she whispered.

Stone nodded once.

“But I want something in return.”

Agent Morgan raised her brows.

“What?”

Eva stepped forward, voice steady.

“I want the mission files. Echo Team files. The truth behind who gave the order to redirect us.”

Stone’s expression turned to stone.

“That information is—”

“I’m not asking,” Eva said sharply. “I’m telling you. You don’t get my testimony unless I get the truth.”

Stone stared at her for a long moment.

Then:

“Fine.”

Eva exhaled shakily.

Stone added:

“Your official reinstatement documentation will arrive soon.”

She blinked.

“My what?”

Agent Morgan smirked.

“The hospital fired you, yes. But the Department of Defense is bringing you back.”

Eva frowned.

“To what?”

Cross answered quietly.

“To Echo Team.”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re rebuilding it?”

Stone nodded.

“And you will lead it.”

Eva staggered.

“No. No, I’m not a soldier anymore.”

Morgan crossed her arms.

“Then why did you chase Reed alone into the underlevels? Why did you neutralize a canister with your bare hands? Why did you recognize a military-grade neurotoxin faster than trained toxicologists?”

Stone stepped forward.

“You never stopped being Echo, Eva.”

Her voice trembled.

“I don’t want that life anymore.”

Stone looked at her like she was made of forged steel.

“Heroes rarely do.”

They escorted her to the helicopter once the debrief was done.

Wind whipped across the roof.

The general lay on a stretcher near the pad, IV lines running, his color returning.

He reached for her hand as she approached.

“You saved my life,” he whispered.

Eva managed a small, tired smile.

“You saved mine first.”

His eyes softened.

“Echo Team would be proud.”

She looked away before the tears could fall.

The commander appeared beside her.

“You did good, Weston. Real good.”

Eva swallowed thickly.

“What happens now?”

He gestured to the helicopter.

“That depends on the choice you make.”

“What choice?”

He looked at her with quiet respect.

“You can walk back into the hospital… or you can climb into that helicopter.”

The rotors began spinning.

The wind kicked up again.

And Eva understood exactly what he meant.

If she walked back into the hospital—

She would go back to patient charts, routine shifts, antiseptic lights.

If she boarded the helicopter—

She would walk back into the shadows of Echo Team.

Back into danger.
Back into truth.
Back into the life she’d sworn she’d left behind.

Her heart pounded.

The commander stepped closer.

“You’re not just a nurse, Eva. You never were.”

She looked at the helicopter.

Its open cabin glowed under the sunrise.

The sky blazed gold.

She touched her bracelet.

Her father’s voice echoed again:

“Go where you’re needed most.”

Eva drew in a steady, painful, grounding breath.

Then she stepped forward—

Toward the helicopter.

Toward the mission she didn’t ask for—but the one she couldn’t walk away from.

The commander opened the cabin door for her.

She climbed in.

The general nodded.

“We’ve got work to do.”

The rotors thundered.
Wind tore across the roof.
The hospital shrank beneath her.

Eva didn’t look back.

Because Echo Team wasn’t dead.

Not anymore.

And this time—

She wasn’t going to let anyone finish what they started.

THE END