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When I stood to leave, she didn't cling or beg me to stay. Didn't try to change my mind or demand to come along. Just sat straight and brave, watching me check my weapons with the kind of confidence that came from choice rather than resignation.

Duke stood as I headed for the door, catching my arm briefly. "I’ll take care of her," he said quietly. "She’ll be safe when you get back. I swear it.”

“Thanks Prez. Means a lot.”

I glanced back at Cleo, still sitting on that couch with her hands folded, fighting every instinct to run. Three weeks ago, she'd been ready to disappear rather than trust us with danger. Now she sat like a queen, letting her knights ride to battle while she held the castle.

"Well," he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder, "she’s family now."

Thor appeared in the doorway, already geared up. "Ready?"

I looked at Cleo one more time. She met my eyes steadily, chin lifted, every inch the woman I'd fallen in love with. No tears, no pleas, just quiet strength that said she'd be here when I got back. That she'd wait, no matter how long it took.

"Ready," I said, and meant it.

The last thing I saw before the door closed was Cleo reaching for the destroyed remains of Mr. Friendly, gathering the torn bear into her lap like she was holding onto all their shared secrets.

T he warehouse squatted silent in industrial darkness, but through my night vision scope it became something else—a puzzle Vanessa had already solved for us.

Green-tinted shadows moved with purpose as Alpha team flowed around the building's perimeter. Archer led them, his Ranger training evident in every step. They avoided the cameras exactly where Vanessa had marked them, slipping through blind spots like they'd done this a hundred times before.

"Alpha approaching target," came the whisper through my earpiece. "Roving guard, northwest corner, smoking."

I watched through the scope as they closed on the guard—a thick-necked Serpent who'd chosen the worst possible time to take a smoke break. Archer moved like water, coming up behind him silent as death. The sleeper hold was textbook, cutting off blood flow rather than air. Less noise, faster drop.

The guard's cigarette fell from slack fingers, his body following it down. Archer caught him before he hit ground, lowering him gentle as a mother with a sleeping child. Professional work, no drama.

"Alpha in position," Archer reported. "Package secured, no alerts."

Phase one complete. I shifted my scope to the main entrance where Bravo team was already in motion. Wiz and his partner moved with the confidence of men who'd studied their target's weaknesses. Vanessa's notes had been specific—these guards spent more time on their phones than watching the doors.

Sure enough, both entrance guards had their faces lit by screen glow, thumbs scrolling through whatever distraction helped pass a boring shift. They never saw Wiz coming.

The flash-bang alternative was a thing of beauty—a strobing LED device that overloaded vision without the percussion damage of real ordinance. Both guards jerked back, hands flying to their eyes, phones clattering on concrete. Before they could recover or shout, Bravo team was on them.

Zip ties went on with practiced efficiency. Mouths were covered with tape before vocal cords could remember how to work. In six seconds, two guards went from bored to unconscious, settled against the wall like drunks sleeping off a bender.

"Bravo green," Rex reported. "Entry point clear."

My turn. I rose from my position, Thor and Tyson flanking me as we moved toward the breach point. The side door Vanessa had identified looked rusted shut from the outside, but she'd noted that was cosmetic. The Serpents kept it functional for exactly this kind of emergency exit.

The lock picked easier than expected. Either Vanessa had provided the exact model or the Serpents had grown lazy with their security. Probably both. Complacency was a killer in our world, and they'd been kings of this particular hill too long.

Inside, the warehouse smelled like rust, motor oil and sweat. Emergency lighting cast long shadows down corridors that matched Vanessa's blueprints perfectly.

We moved in formation, Thor on point, me navigating, Tyson watching our backs with mechanical precision. Our boots made no sound on the concrete—rubber soles and careful steps, the way professionals moved through hostile territory.

"Two tangos, break room," Tyson murmured, barely loud enough for the comm. "Playing cards like intel predicted."

We flowed past the doorway without stopping. No need to engage guards who weren't blocking our path. Every unconscious body increased the chance of discovery, and Jessie was our objective tonight.

The stairs to the second floor were exactly where marked, industrial steel that could have clanged like bells if we weren't careful. We took them one at a time, testing each step, moving like ghosts through their house.

"Movement, second floor," came Rex's voice. "One guard, heading east. Might be a shift change starting."

Earlier than Vanessa had predicted, but within the margin of error. We pressed against the stairwell wall, letting the footsteps pass overhead. The guard was humming something tuneless, completely unaware that death had slipped into his warehouse.

We reached the second floor landing as his footsteps faded. The corridor stretched ahead, doors on either side, but we only cared about one—northeast corner, last door on the right. Vanessa had drawn it with an X, marking where they kept their leverage.

Thor took point at the door while I checked the lock. Standard deadbolt, nothing fancy. They'd relied on guards and reputation rather than hardware. Another mistake that would cost them.

The lock turned with a soft click. Thor went in first, filling the doorframe with controlled violence ready to explode. But the room held only one threat, and she was in no condition to fight.

Jessie lay curled on a bare mattress, wrists marked with zip-tie bruises, hair matted with sweat. She flinched when Thor's bulk blocked the light, trying to press herself smaller like she could disappear into the stained fabric.

"Easy, sweetheart," I said, moving past Thor with deliberate calm. No sudden movements, nothing that would spike her fear higher. "We're here to take you home. Cleo sent us."

Her eyes focused with difficulty—sedated but not deeply, probably something mild to keep her manageable without risking overdose. Smart if you wanted leverage that could still walk when needed.

"Cleo?" The name came out cracked, desperate. "Is she okay? He said . . . he said he'd hurt her if I didn't . . ."

"She's safe," I assured her, producing bolt cutters for her restraints. "Worried about you. We're going to get you out of here, get you somewhere safe. Can you walk?"

Thor knelt beside the mattress, his massive frame somehow made gentle. "We got you, little one. Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore."

The zip ties parted with a snap that made her flinch. Tyson kept watch at the door, counting seconds since the guard had passed. We had maybe three minutes before someone noticed things were too quiet.

"Three guards neutralized on this floor," Tyson reported quietly. "But that shift change is going to bring questions soon."

I helped Jessie sit up, evaluating her condition with field medic efficiency. Dehydrated, scared, drugged, but mobile. No obvious injuries beyond the restraint marks. They'd wanted her functional, not damaged.

"Can you stand?" I asked, keeping my voice gentle but urgent.

She nodded, trying to push herself up on shaking legs. Thor and I caught her arms, supporting her between us. She weighed nothing, bird bones and desperation held together by sheer will.

"Exfil in sixty seconds," I radioed to all teams. "Package is mobile."

We moved as a unit, Thor and me supporting Jessie while Tyson cleared our path. Down the stairs, her feet barely touching as we carried most of her weight. Through corridors that stayed blessedly empty, the Serpents' confidence working against them.

"Alpha, prepare for extract," I ordered. "Bravo, any movement at main?"

"Negative. Guards still sleeping it off."

"Perimeter clear. No sign of response."

We reached the side door without incident, flowing out into night air that tasted like freedom. Jessie made a sound that might have been a sob, her first breath outside captivity in days.

The van waited exactly where planned, engine running silent, back doors open like a promise. We loaded her gently, Thor climbing in to keep her stable while Tyson took the wheel.

"All teams, exfil now," I commanded. "Clean and quick."

Shapes materialized from shadows as Alpha and Bravo teams materialized, falling back to their bikes with professional efficiency. No celebrating, no chatter, just operators completing a mission.

By the time Serpent backup arrived—and Vanessa had promised they would—they'd find empty rooms and unconscious guards. No bodies to escalate war, no evidence of who'd taken their leverage beyond the professional signature of the work.

Justice served cold and clean, the way it should be.

Now there was just one more loose end to tie up.

W e found Rattler exactly where Vanessa said he'd be—a pay-by-the-hour motel that rented rooms to anyone who didn't ask questions and paid in cash.

The Starlite Motor Lodge squatted beside the highway like a neon turd, its flickering sign casting sick pink light over cracked asphalt.

Room 237, second floor, end of the row. Through my scope, I watched Cleo's father pace behind thin curtains, phone pressed to his ear, gesturing wildly at whatever bad news he was getting.

"Visual confirmed," I radioed to Thor and Tyson, positioned at the back exit. "Subject is mobile, agitated. Looks like he knows something's wrong."

Probably getting reports of his warehouse sitting empty, guards found unconscious, leverage vanished like smoke. The kind of news that turned careful plans into desperate scrambles.