Page 13

Logan

The moment we cleared Lucia’s house, I was calculating.

Distance to extraction point: two and a half klicks along the dirt road.

No vehicles to be had, so we would have to make it on foot.

Time remaining: thirty-seven minutes. Weather conditions: deteriorating with wind gusts that would make helicopter operations increasingly dangerous.

“Stay close,” I told Lauren as we reached the dirt road that connected the village to the outside world. “We need to move fast.”

She nodded, adjusting her medical bag across her shoulder. Even after delivering a baby under pressure, she looked focused rather than rattled. The woman had steel in her spine.

I set a punishing pace along the packed earth, grateful for the clear path after our earlier trek through dense undergrowth.

Lauren kept up without complaint, her longer stride working to her advantage on the smoother terrain.

Behind us, the village sounds faded into the distance, replaced by the whisper of wind through trees and the distant rumble of approaching storm.

Part of me was furious at the unnecessary risk we’d just taken.

Deviating from extraction protocols for a medical emergency was exactly the kind of mission creep that got people killed.

We’d compromised our timeline, separated from the team, and potentially alerted Silva forces to our location—all for one patient.

But watching Lauren work—the steady competence as she’d repositioned that baby, the calm way she’d reassured a terrified nineteen-year-old—I couldn’t bring myself to regret it. She’d saved two lives back there, and she’d done it knowing the cost. That took a special kind of courage.

“How much farther?” she asked as we maintained our steady pace down the road.

“About a klick. We’re making good time.”

That was mostly true. The clear road surface was allowing us to move much faster than I’d anticipated, and Lauren’s endurance was proving better than expected. If we maintained this pace, we’d reach the extraction point with minutes to spare.

Through the trees ahead, I could hear the distant thrum of helicopter rotors—our ride was on station and waiting.

Relief started to build in my chest. We were going to make it.

“Almost there,” I told Lauren as we reached the edge of the tree line. “Five more minutes on that road and we’re?—”

The rumble of engines cut through the jungle noise like a buzz saw. Multiple vehicles, moving fast, coming up the same dirt road we needed to use.

“Down!” I grabbed Lauren’s arm and pulled her back into the undergrowth just as the first black SUV rounded the bend. “Stay low.”

My radio was already in my hand. “Citadel Two, this is Citadel One. You’ve got company inbound on the access road. Multiple vehicles, armed personnel.”

“Copy that, One. We see them. Three SUVs, approximately fifteen hostiles.”

A second SUV followed, then a third—Silva forces moving with purpose toward our extraction point. They knew exactly where they were going.

“How did they—” Lauren started.

“Doesn’t matter now. No secrets in a small town.

” I pulled her deeper into the vegetation as the vehicles passed our position.

The SUVs kicked up clouds of dust as always, and through the windows, I caught glimpses of assault rifles and tactical gear.

Even a small force would be enough to compromise the extraction.

In dragging her away from the road, I’d ended up pressed against Lauren’s back, my arms wrapped around her to keep her steady as we crouched behind a cluster of broad-leafed plants.

I could feel the rapid beat of her heart against my chest, smell the faint scent of the local soap and antiseptic mixed with jungle humidity.

For a moment that lasted too long, I was acutely aware of how she fit against me—the curve of her shoulder blade against my ribs, the way her breathing had synchronized with mine.

The tactical situation demanded complete focus, but some primitive part of my brain was cataloging the feel of her warmth pressed close to me.

I forced the awareness away with practiced discipline. Lauren’s life depended on my ability to think clearly, not on whatever hormonal responses her proximity was triggering.

“Are they gone?” she whispered.

I listened for a moment, tracking the sound of engines as they continued toward the landing zone. “For now. But they’re heading straight for our helicopter.”

The reality of the situation sharpened my focus. Silva’s forces would reach the extraction point before we could, which meant my team was about to be caught in a coordinated ambush with limited defensive positions.

I guided Lauren back onto the road, and we started running. The dirt surface was easier going than the jungle terrain, but every step took us closer to a firefight we were too late to prevent.

My radio crackled. “Citadel One, hostiles are setting up positions around our landing zone. Looks like maybe eight to ten personnel. ETA from your position?”

“Six minutes if we push it.”

Six minutes. I could hear it in Tyler’s voice—they’d already done the math and knew we wouldn’t make it in time. “Shit. Logan…”

“You guys need to just leave. You can’t risk waiting for them to attack.”

“They’re signaling to shut off the engine.” Tyler’s voice carried new tension.

“Under no circumstances do you shut down that engine. Get airborne before they can close the distance.”

“What about you and Lauren?”

“We’ll adapt.”

Lauren shot me a look but didn’t slow her pace. She understood the implications even if she didn’t like them.

The crack of gunfire erupted ahead of us, automatic weapons mixed with the heavy thrum of helicopter rotors. Through the trees, I could see muzzle flashes and the distinctive silhouette of our aircraft struggling to maintain position under fire.

“Contact!” Tyler’s voice came through sharp and clear. “Taking fire from multiple positions!”

Lauren and I stopped at the edge of the clearing, still hidden in the tree line but close enough to see the chaos unfolding closer to the landing zone. Silva’s forces had positioned themselves around the landing zone, using their vehicles as cover while they opened fire on the helicopter.

The pilot was fighting to keep the aircraft stable, but I could see sparks flying from impacts on the fuselage. Smoke was beginning to trail from the engine compartment.

“Citadel One, this is Two.” Tyler’s voice was tight with controlled urgency. “We’re airborne. Evading.”

My heart sank as I watched the helicopter climb rapidly, rotor wash scattering debris as the pilot fought for altitude. The aircraft was gaining height as quickly as possible to avoid ground fire.

“Two, this is One. Just go. We’ll find another extraction point.”

“Negative. We don’t abandon people.”

“You’re not abandoning us. You’re following fucking orders.” I forced authority into my voice despite the knot in my stomach. “Ty, get those doctors to safety. That’s the primary mission.”

The helicopter was gaining altitude now, still taking sporadic fire but moving out of effective range. Through my binoculars, I could see it banking away from the landing zone, carrying my team and three of the four medical personnel to safety.

“Logan, we can circle back.” Jace spoke now. “Give us coordinates for an alternate LZ.”

I looked around at the dense jungle canopy, then up at the darkening sky where the first fat raindrops of Hurricane Tristan were beginning to fall. The hurricane would be here before they could return safely—especially now that the helicopter had sustained bullet damage.

“Negative, Two. No suitable alternate landing zones in range before this storm hits.”

“Then what’s the plan?”

Lauren was watching me with those green eyes, waiting for an answer I didn’t have. We were stranded in Silva territory with no backup, no extraction plan, and a big-ass storm bearing down on us.

“Plan is we move to Puerto Esperanza on foot. Forty kilometers north. We’ll hole up there until the storm passes, then arrange extraction from the coast.”

“That’s two days minimum in hostile territory.”

“It’s what we’ve got. Be safe. Wait for my contact. Over and out.”

I clipped the radio back to my vest and turned to Lauren. “Hope you’re good at hiking.”

She shouldered her medical bag without complaint, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead from the humid heat and exertion. “Lead the way.”

But as we prepared to disappear into the jungle, I caught one last glimpse of the helicopter disappearing into the gray sky. My team was safe, the other doctors were safe, and we’d completed the primary mission. Seventy-five percent. I wondered if that was still considered a passing score.

Now all I had to do was keep Lauren alive for forty kilometers through cartel territory during a hurricane.

Just another day at the office.