Frost awoke to a cold, sterile light overhead. The dull hum of medical equipment was the first thing he registered before the sharp pain in his side made him wince. His vision cleared slowly, and as his senses returned, he recognized the unmistakable antiseptic smell of a hospital room.
"You're awake," came a familiar voice.
Frost turned his head to see Blake sitting by his bedside, his face etched with concern but also relief. There was a tension in his partner's posture, the kind that only comes when you narrowly avoid death.
"You look like hell," Blake added with a wry smile.
Frost tried to speak, but his throat was dry, and the effort sent a sharp pang through his side. He winced again, grimacing as he attempted to push himself up into a more comfortable position.
"Easy there," Blake said, rising from his chair to help prop him up. "You've been out for nearly 24 hours. They had to remove the bullet and patch you up. You're lucky it wasn't worse."
Frost's mind began to race, the events of the tunnel flooding back to him in fragments. The shipment. The crates. Thorne's men. And then... Thorne himself. The shot. His hand instinctively moved to his side, where he felt the thick bandages wrapped around his abdomen.
"Thorne," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Blake nodded grimly. "He got away. The bastard shot you and then vanished into the tunnels before we could get to him. We secured the shipment, but whatever he was planning, it's bigger than we thought."
Frost's brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together. "What was in the crates? What's his next move?"
Blake sighed, running a hand through his hair. "That's the thing—we're not sure. The crates were filled with strange mechanical parts, but nothing that made any immediate sense. We're talking to a few experts now, trying to figure out what they were for. But the fact that Thorne went to such lengths to protect them… it's bad news, Frost."
A heavy silence hung in the room as Frost absorbed this information. The strange mechanical parts, Thorne's ruthless protection of them—it all pointed to something much larger than they had initially realized.
"I need to see the shipment," Frost said, trying to push himself out of bed.
Blake's hand shot out to stop him. "Whoa, easy. You're in no shape to be running around yet. The doctors want you here for at least a few more days to recover."
"I don't have time for that," Frost growled, but the pain in his side forced him to lean back. He wasn't going anywhere, and Blake knew it. Frustration welled up inside him—being sidelined while Thorne's plan was still in motion was the last thing he wanted.
"I'll make sure you get the full report," Blake said, trying to reassure him. "For now, focus on healing. We'll need you at full strength for what's coming next."
Frost closed his eyes, exhaling slowly as the pain in his side throbbed. He hated being out of action, especially with the stakes this high. But Blake was right—he needed to recover. He couldn't help anyone if he was half-dead.
"How's the team?" Frost asked after a moment, opening his eyes to look at Blake.
"They're fine," Blake replied. "We lost a few good men in the tunnels, but the rest made it out in one piece. They're all ready for whatever comes next."
Frost nodded, relief washing over him. He couldn't bear the thought of losing more people in the pursuit of Thorne. The man was a ghost, always one step ahead, always slipping through their fingers.
But not this time.
---
Later that evening, Frost lay in his hospital bed, unable to sleep. His mind was racing, dissecting every piece of information they had, trying to find the thread that would unravel Thorne's plan. The strange mechanical parts gnawed at him—what were they for? Why would Thorne risk everything for them?
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. He turned his head to see Lila standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
"You're alive," she said softly as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. "I wasn't sure if you would be."
Frost stared at her for a moment, unsure of her intentions. She had helped them before, but her loyalty was always questionable. She operated in the shadows, just like Thorne, and Frost knew better than to trust her completely.
"Why are you here?" Frost asked, his voice still hoarse.
Lila smirked. "I heard about your little run-in with Thorne. Thought I'd come see the man who can't seem to stay dead."
Frost's expression hardened. "If you're here to gloat, you can leave."
Lila raised an eyebrow. "Gloat? No, Frost, I'm here to help. You're in deeper than you realize, and you're going to need all the help you can get if you want to stop Thorne."
Frost narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "What do you know?"
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. "I know what Thorne is building. I know why he needs those parts."
Frost's pulse quickened. "Tell me."
Lila leaned in, her eyes glinting in the dim hospital light. "It's a machine. Something powerful. Something dangerous. Thorne's been working on it for years, gathering the pieces slowly, quietly. But now he's nearly finished. Once it's operational, he'll have control over the entire city."
Frost's mind raced. A machine? What kind of machine? What was Thorne planning?
"Why are you telling me this?" Frost asked, his voice filled with suspicion.
"Because if Thorne succeeds, it won't just be London that suffers," Lila replied. "He's planning something much bigger. And I have no interest in living under his thumb when it all goes to hell."
Frost's gaze remained locked on her. He didn't trust her, not fully, but the information she had just given him was invaluable. If Thorne was building something that could control the city, they had to stop him—no matter the cost.
"You're going to help me stop him," Frost said, his voice firm.
Lila smirked. "I thought you'd never ask."
---
The following day, Frost was discharged from the hospital, still weak but determined to get back in the fight. Blake met him outside, the morning air cool against his skin as they walked toward a waiting car.
"Where to?" Blake asked, glancing at Frost.
"Thorne's operation is bigger than we thought," Frost replied, his tone grim. "We need to move fast. If what Lila told me is true, Thorne's nearly finished with whatever he's building. And when it's done, we won't be able to stop him."
Blake frowned. "You really trust her?"
"No," Frost admitted. "But she knows more than we do. And right now, we need every advantage we can get."
As they climbed into the car, Frost's mind was already racing with the next steps. They needed to track down the remaining pieces of Thorne's machine, find out where he was hiding, and stop him before it was too late.
The clock was ticking, and every second brought them closer to a disaster they couldn't afford.
Frost wasn't sure what the future held, but one thing was clear: the final showdown with Thorne was looming, and only one of them would come out alive.