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TERRENEAN REALM

B eau’s comm unit sounds through our headsets. “Brother, if we get out of here in less than twenty-four hours, I’ll suck your dick.” The SOs behind us, Riggs and Mal, chuckle openly, earning my glare.

Too fucking loud.

We might be in the middle of fucking nowhere, and miles out from our target, but it still makes my hackles rise.

Shaking my head, I smirk as Levi and I exchange a look. His expression is as serious as ever.

I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen SO1– Special Warfare Operator, First Class –Graves smile, much less laugh. Before Levi Graves joined my team, I was considered the moody one, but he makes me look like little-miss-fucking-sunshine by comparison.

Beau—the green beret frequently tasked in our joint operations—is always the sunshine to his grumpy.

Levi’s reply is a gravelled murmur. “Better be good at deep-throating, princess, because I’ve got a big dick, I won’t be gentle, and there’s no fucking way I’m sleeping in the dirt again tonight.”

Beau’s muffled laughter crackles through our comms. “You’re a sick man.”

Levi’s eyes are locked ahead of us on the dark foliage surrounding us, but I swear I see the faintest tilt of his lips in an almost smile. “It’ll be like a fist punching through a wet sheet of paper.”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek so hard it bleeds as Riggs’ and Mal’s muffled snorts of laughter sound behind us.

When they calm, Beau’s comm crackles in our ears.

“I just came.”

More than half a mile away and safely tucked away in a mountain alcove, Beau’s voice is barely a murmur. “Target at 700 meters.”

An eerie calm comes over me even as my heart thumps like a war drum in my chest. Each one of us takes slow, steady, silent breaths as we creep through the last barrier of jungle foliage that remains between us, a significant number of hostiles, and the hostage we’re rescuing.

Long moments pass, steadily closing forward until my eyes lock on two armed men—both of whom look bored as shit—pacing the perimeter.

“Eyes on two. Hostiles’ patterns are lazy.”

Levi, a handful of feet away, studies them for a beat longer.

“Copy. We’ve got a twenty-second patrol loop.”

On missions, we only ever refer to one another by our call signs as a safety precaution. Should someone have both the technology and skill, they could hack into our radio signal, so for obvious reasons, using our real names is not an option.

“Hunter, you got eyes on any other hostiles patrolling the perimeter?”

Hunter—AKA Beau—pauses. “Negative. Too much tree cover along the fencing, but I’ve got clear eyes. Not a soul in sight, but you’ve got at least a dozen inside the compound. Stay quiet.”

My eyes briefly flick to Levi at my side.

“Copy. Ghost, you’re with me. We’ll take the western perimeter. Bear and Doc, fan out and sweep the south perimeter. Rendezvous at breachpoint delta.

Mal comms. “Copy. Moving.”

For a brief moment, my eyes scan the vicinity where Mal and Riggs are headed, before I move forward with Levi close at my side.

When we’re equidistant to the hostiles on the western fence, we sling our primaries and switch to the Benchmade SOC-P daggers clipped to our chest rigs, using an icepick grip.

As soon as I’m out of range of my hostile’s peripheral vision, I keep low and silently close the distance between us.

My arm slips around his neck—compressing his carotid arteries—his arms come up to try and prevent the cerebral hypoxia, or in layman’s terms, lack of blood flow to the brain, that will make him pass out.

His defence is an exercise in futility, but it’s what I hoped for because it creates the window for me to sever his brachial artery.

In the fleeting moment of his struggle against me, I swiftly switch my grip on my dagger by whipping the blade around the retention ring in its handle, and drive it into the upper, inner flesh of his arm near his armpit.

In seconds, his fight weakens, and in under a minute, he’s unconscious, and I’m dragging his body back into the forest. With the now dead hostile still locked in my hold, I lower to one knee and quietly deposit his body on the ground. As soon as I stand, I look up to find Levi doing the same.

As one, we move toward our breach point to find Mal and Riggs creeping through the forest ahead to meet us. Just as I kneel to begin clipping the fence for us to slip inside the compound, Beau is in my ear.

“We’ve got movement. Four hostiles just pulled the target.”

God damn it.

“Black SUV. Rear, middle seat. They’re pulling out.”

“Copy. We’ll close the distance to the gate.”

“Vehicle closing in. 600 meters to your three. The drainage ditch should give cover to your approach.”

In the distance, we hear tires crunching on gravel and the sound of the SUVs engine. Through the trees, we see it speeding down the mud and gravel road. Levi vocalizes my own realization.

“We’re not gonna make it.”

“Hunter, can you take out the driver?”

“Affirm. Driver’s exposed. Wind’s holding steady. Target at 400 meters and closing.”

“Take the shot, Hunter.”

A suppressed shot echoes softly in the distance.

“Driver’s down.”

A blink later, we’re watching the SUV drive straight into a tree.

“Two Hostiles on the move. Target’s with them.”

“Where’s the third?”

“Immobilized in the car. Think he might have bumped his noggin in the crash. Wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.”

“Take him out. We’re goin’ loud.”

As one, we rush forward, still unseen by the fleeing hostiles, dragging the target with them and using her as a shield. They’ve got a black sack tied over her head and have her bound at the wrists and ankles.

God knows what this woman has been through.

As the daughter of a politician who does not have this cartel’s best interests at heart, I can’t imagine they’ve been kind to her.

She isn’t the first hostage we’ve rescued from a situation like this either, and I can’t fathom any of these women leading normal lives after experiencing the trauma they do at the hands of cruel men.

The sound of her muffled screams from whatever gag they must have in her mouth is fuel to my fire.

In their haste, one of the hostiles trips.

It’s in that fleeting window of opportunity in which his vital organs are now far enough away from our target that I can fire a short burst from my HK416.

It gives away our position, but there’s only one hostile left, and his odds of survival are abominable.

The remaining hostile yells, holding a gun to our target’s head, as she sobs in terror.

“Two hostile vehicles incoming at your nine.”

“Take out the drivers.”

Levi sprays the ground near the lone hostile’s feet with bullets.

The hostile leaps backward, creating enough space for Riggs to take a shot, turning the guy’s gun-wielding hand into ground meat.

The target tumbles to the ground on top of him, quickly scrambling away, giving us another window, and Levi takes a headshot.

I’m already lifting the hostage into my arms when Beau’s voice is a tense growl in my ear. “Negative. I don’t have eyes. I’m moving down to engage.”

“Negative. Stay where you are. We need eyes.”

Barking a command to my team, we move to the tree cover just as we hear the roar of engines in the distance.

I don’t have time to be gentle, so with an unceremonious thump, I drop the hostage on the ground before turning back toward the road just as two hostile vehicles screech to a halt behind where the first vehicle crashed, and ten armed men begin firing at the tree line.

Riggs, Mal, Levi, and I fire back.

Too fucking messy.

Two hostiles go down as the rest take cover behind their SUVs.

“Hunter, contact front. Two vehicles, multiple dismounts. They’re using the trucks for cover.”

“Copy. Request to move. I’ll flank from the north, try to break their line. Give me three mikes.”

I’m practically speaking through gritted teeth. “Negative, unless you’ve got a route. If they see you moving, they’ll light you up.”

“Only thick brush between me and the road—no hostiles. I’ll stay low. Can’t sit this out—I’ll draw their eyes. When I open up, you move.”

Levi’s eyes shift to mine. “If Hunter makes noise on their flank, we can rush center and suppress. Drop ’em fast.”

With a grim nod, my eyes catch on the hostage struggling to remove the hood tied over her head.

“We move on Hunter’s mark. Stay low. Stay fast.”

Grabbing the partially serrated OG SEAL Pup at my thigh with one hand and her arm in the other, she jolts just as I begin cutting away the zip-ties at her wrists and ankles before I move to the sack on her head.

Make-up streaks her swollen and bruised face as she looks up at me like I’m the poster boy for hope. She’s nothing short of traumatized, but thankfully has the presence of mind to remain still and quiet.

“Do not move from this position. There’s five of us and eight of them. Those are excellent fucking odds so long as we get out of here before anyone else arrives.”

She gives me a shaky nod.

Turning back toward the road, I see the other remaining hostiles are still behind their vehicle. My gut churns knowing they’re just waiting it out until more of their cartel arrives.

“Hunter, what’s your location?”

Silence.

Levi, Mal, Riggs, and I exchange a tense look. Several beats pass, until finally, Beau’s comm comes through.

“Mark.”

His signal is immediately followed by distant gunfire, drawing the attention of the hostiles. My team and I surge forward as the sound of our suppressed HK416s rent the air.

Two more hostiles go down, and shortly after, a third, just as Mal shouts from my left. “Reloading—cover right!”

I’m shifting to cover just as a hostile from inside the middle vehicle sneaks toward our treeline. I fire a burst just as he sprints toward us.

“Hostile rear left, closing in on target! I’m moving to intercept!”

Levi is the first to respond. “Copy, shifting fire! At your six!”

Sprinting up the hill back into the treeline, I see the hostage dart through the trees as the hostile chases her, gun in hand. There’s too much fucking brush to get a clear shot and a moment later he’s out of sight—as is our target.

What a sloppy fucking mess.

A moment later, her scream cuts through the air, alerting me to her location, and I’m running through the brush.

When I finally burst through a clearing, HK416 raised, he’s using her as his cover and has a handgun pointed at her head. She winces as he grinds the muzzle into her temple.

The hostile’s voice is desperate. “Take me with you. Wherever you’re going?—

PAP-PAP!

Fucking idiot.

The hostage gives a short scream at the sound of my rifle as two rounds seek home inside his skull. He falls to a heap on the ground behind her, and her body is tugged down along with it.

“Ghost, sitrep. Hunter, Bear, and Doc, check in.”

Levi’s voice crackles through my comms. “Eight hostiles down.”

Beau replies next. “No more movement. We’re all good down here for now. Hostage secure?”

I close the distance between me and the hostage to where she forces herself to stand, trembling like a leaf. “Affirm. Threat neutralized. Collapse on my position. We’re exfil in five.”

The hostage—Seraphine Prince—looks like she’s one shuddering breath away from a panic attack.

“Hey.”

She just stares at me. Swinging my rifle back to low, I raise my empty hands and slowly reach for her. “Seraphine, right?”

Her eyes briefly close as fresh tears slip down her cheeks, and she allows me to guide her away from the corpse at her bare feet.

“You’re safe, now. We’re gonna get you outta here, okay?”

My eyes are on the forest surrounding us, ears straining for any sounds—like more approaching vehicles in the distance. Blessedly, I only hear the steady footsteps of my team.

“Promise me.”

The sound of her hoarsely whispered words and the feel of her hands gripping the front of my chest rig takes me by surprise.

“Promise me. Please.”

More tears spill down her cheeks. She’s young—only in her mid-twenties. Still wearing the now torn and bloody dress she’d worn out to some nightclub with her friends when she was taken.

I fucking hate making promises.

I hate making promises because I know that when it comes down to it, I can’t bring myself to break them. And despite the fact that her words ask for a promise I can now surely fulfill, there’s something more in her eyes that has little alarm bells going off in my mind.

I can’t bring myself to say the words, considering what happened the last time I made a promise to a woman—my mother. The situation, while wholly different in nature, is still jarringly similar.

Yet, as my team reaches our clearing, I find myself giving her a grim nod. Because apparently, my savior complex still knows no bounds.