Page 11 of Blade (Spartan Watchmen MC #5)

A familiar calm settled over Blade as he drove toward the Rejects' hunting cabin. The pre-mission focus, honed through years of SEAL operations and club business. His mind went cold and clear, emotions compartmentalized into neat boxes to be dealt with later.

If there was a later.

He pushed that thought away. Failure wasn't an option. Not with Lily waiting for him to return. Not with Tim's life hanging in the balance. He hadn’t completely forgiven Tim for his part in all this, but after the conversation with Lily, he respected the man for saving her.

His comm unit crackled. "Blade, you copy?" Savage's voice came through, tight with tension.

"Copy," he replied, one hand on the steering wheel, the other checking his sidearm. "What's your position?"

"Ridge overlooking the cabin, northeast side. I've got eyes on the front entrance and most of the perimeter. Rampage is circling to the west, getting into position."

"Irish?"

"Ten minutes out," Savage confirmed. "Lucky's staying back at the clubhouse, keeping an eye on things there."

Smart. If Hammer wasn't the only traitor, they needed someone watching their backs at home base. The girls were there. Precious cargo.

"Any movement?" Blade asked, taking a sharp turn onto a dirt road that would lead him to their rendezvous point.

"Minimal," Savage replied. "Two guys outside, smoking. Rest are inside. I can see movement through the windows, but can't make out how many."

"Tim?"

A pause. "Confirmed visual about twenty minutes ago. They brought him to the front room. He's... it's not good, brother."

Blade's jaw clenched. "Still alive?"

"Yeah. But they've worked him over pretty good. Missing at least three fingers that I could see. Face barely recognizable."

"Hammer?"

"Inside. He arrived with a duffel bag. My guess is he's delivering something. Information, maybe."

Or weapons. Or drugs. The Rejects dealt in all three. The Watchmen didn’t touch drugs. If it were drugs, he’d be curious where he was getting them from.

"Zeb?" Blade asked, referring to the Rejects' president and the man ultimately responsible for hunting Lily.

"No visual," Savage replied. "But there's a black SUV with tinted windows parked around the back. Could be his."

Blade processed this information, tactical options cycling through his mind. "We need to confirm Tim's exact position before we move in. If Zeb is inside, we need to take him alive if possible."

"Understood," Savage acknowledged. "But Tim's our priority. He's fading fast from what I can see."

"Agreed," Blade said grimly. "I'm five minutes out. Hold position until I arrive."

He ended the transmission, his mind already mapping out angles of approach, potential threats, extraction routes.

The familiar ritual helped push away thoughts that had no place in combat.

Thoughts of soft blonde hair between his fingers, of wide, trusting eyes, of lips that had yielded so sweetly to his brief kiss.

Focus, asshole. You can think about Lily after, when everyone's safe.

But that was the problem, wasn't it? She wasn't just a mission parameter anymore. She was becoming something more, something dangerously close to essential. And that kind of attachment was lethal in his line of work.

He turned onto a narrow path barely visible among the pines, driving another quarter mile before killing the engine. From here, he'd go on foot. Less chance of being detected that way.

Grabbing his tactical vest and rifle from the passenger seat, Blade quickly geared up. Earpiece in, weapons checked, extra magazines secured. The routine was as familiar as breathing, muscle memory taking over while his mind stayed focused on the task ahead.

As he moved through the woods toward the rendezvous point, Blade allowed himself one moment—just one—to think about what would happen if he didn't make it back. Lily, waiting in the safe room, hoping for his return. The fear and disappointment in her eyes when she realized he wasn't coming.

The thought hardened his resolve. He'd make it back. Not just because the mission demanded it, but because she was waiting for him. Because he'd promised. Because she was his and he had to make sure she knew it.

Savage materialized from the trees like a ghost, acknowledging Blade with a nod. Despite the gravity of the situation, Blade felt a surge of confidence. Savage was one of the best operators he’d served with. Cold as ice in a crisis, lethal in execution.

"Status update?" Blade asked quietly.

"Rampage is in position to the west," Savage reported. "Irish just arrived, moving to the south. Two tangos still outside, four visible inside, including Hammer and Tim."

"And the SUV?"

"Still no visual on the driver or any other passengers. Could be Zeb, could be someone else."

Blade considered their options. "We need to take out the two outside silently, then breach simultaneously from multiple entry points. Minimize the risk to Tim."

Savage nodded. "Rampage can handle the two outside with that fancy crossbow of his. Then you and I take the front, Irish the back. Be advised, they've got Tim tied to a chair in the main room. Possible Dead Man's Switch scenario."

Shit. That complicated things. If Tim was rigged to explosives or had a gun to his head, a direct assault could get him killed instantly.

"We need eyes inside," Blade decided. "Confirmation of exactly what we're dealing with."

"Already on it," Savage said, handing him a small tablet. "Drone feed. Launched it five minutes ago."

Blade studied the thermal imaging on the screen. Six heat signatures inside the cabin. One, presumably Tim, seated and stationary in the center of the main room. Four others moving around, and a sixth, cooler signature in what appeared to be a back bedroom.

"Who's in the back?" Blade asked.

"Unknown," Savage replied. "Could be Zeb. Could be someone else. They've been in there since I arrived."

"Are they guarding the back exit?"

"Doesn't look like it. No consistent pattern of movement."

Blade made a decision. "Change of plan. You and Rampage take out the two outside. Irish covers the back exit in case anyone tries to flee. I'll go in through the bedroom window, neutralize whoever's inside, then work my way to the main room while you breach from the front on my signal."

Savage frowned. "Risky. You'll be outnumbered if the bedroom occupant raises the alarm."

"Better than a full frontal assault with Tim in the line of fire," Blade countered. "Besides, I work better alone."

That wasn't strictly true, not anymore. But it was easier than admitting he wasn't willing to risk Savage's life unnecessarily. Not when Savage had a wife and kid at home. Not when Blade himself only had?—

Don't go there. Focus on the mission.

Savage studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Your call, brother. But if I don't hear from you in ten minutes after you go in, we're breaching regardless."

"Fair enough," Blade agreed.

They synchronized watches, then Blade contacted Rampage and Irish, relaying the plan. Both acknowledged without question. Another advantage of working with former special forces—they understood chain of command and the importance of following orders in combat situations.

"Move out," Blade ordered, checking his silenced sidearm one last time.

Savage clasped his shoulder briefly. "Watch your six."

"Always do," Blade replied with a grim smile.

He moved through the trees like a shadow, keeping low, using natural cover to approach the cabin from the east side. The bedroom window was partially open, either a stroke of luck, or possibly carelessness on the part of the occupant.

Through his earpiece, he heard Rampage's whispered confirmation: "Targets acquired. Ready on your go."

"Execute," Blade commanded softly.

Seconds later: "Tangos down. Perimeter clear."

That was his cue. Blade approached the window, staying below the sill, listening. Inside, he could hear movement. Someone was in there pacing and muttering to themselves.

He risked a quick peek. A man stood with his back to the window, cell phone to his ear. Even from behind, Blade recognized him immediately.

Zeb. President of Pedro's Rejects. The man responsible for the hunt for Lily.

"...don't care what it takes," Zeb was saying, his voice low and angry. "Find the bitch. She's with one of the Spartans, name's Blade. Some cabin in the mountains..." He paused, listening. "No, I don't have an exact location. That's why I'm paying you, isn't it?"

Blade's blood ran cold. Zeb was putting out feelers, trying to locate Lily. Which meant the text Blade had received wasn't a bluff. The Rejects knew she was with him, even if they didn't know precisely where.

"Just find her," Zeb continued. "I want her brought to me alive. Relatively undamaged. She needs to be coherent for what I have planned."

The implications of that statement made Blade's hands tighten on his weapon. This man was not walking out of here alive. Not if Blade had anything to say about it.

Zeb ended the call, muttering curses under his breath. He moved toward the door, his hand reaching for the knob.

It was now or never.

In one fluid motion, Blade vaulted through the window, his body impacting Zeb's before the other man could react. They went down in a tangle of limbs, Zeb's surprised grunt cut short as Blade clamped a hand over his mouth and pressed the barrel of his silenced pistol to his temple.

"Make a sound," Blade whispered, "and I'll paint the walls with your brains. Nod if you understand."

Zeb's eyes bulged with fury and fear, but he nodded.

"Good," Blade continued, his voice deadly calm. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You're going to tell me exactly how many men are out there, and what they've done to Tim. Then you're going to call them in here, one by one, so I can deal with them quietly. Blink twice if you understand."

Zeb blinked twice, hatred radiating from him in waves.

Slowly, Blade removed his hand from Zeb's mouth, keeping the gun firmly in place.