Page 27 of Forged in Fire

Whatever it takes.

She reaches the compound entrance. Three guards remain between her and the building.

I take them down in rapid succession—headshot, center mass, flank intercept.

The rifle clicks empty.

Done with long-range. Time to get personal.

I draw my sidearm and start moving down the ridge toward her position. And with each step forward, I realize that everything I was before tonight dies here. Something else begins.

She disappears into the compound, still surrounded by shadow.

Whatever that something else becomes, it starts with keeping her safe.

I holster the pistol and break into a run, abandoning cover and concealment.

Mission parameters? Fuck the mission parameters.

Twenty yards from the compound entrance, I pause. Listen. Shouts echo from inside the building.

She’s in there. Facing them alone.

I check my weapons. Knife. Pistol. Emergency blade in my boot. Inadequate for what’s coming.

Doesn’t matter.

The compound door stands open. Darkness waits beyond.

I’ve never walked away from a mission before.

Fuck it.

I step inside.

Chapter 9

Iris

Blood.

That’s the first thing that cuts through the shock—the metallic scent flooding my nostrils. I think of the guard who was reaching for me, now lying on the concrete. His eyes staring at nothing, a hole punched clean through his chest.

What the hell?

A second guard dropped before he could even raise his weapon. Then a third.

This is madness.

Shouting voices clash over each other as the remaining guards dive for whatever cover they can find behind equipment crates and metal barriers. Searchlights sweep frantically across the compound perimeter, their beams cutting wild arcs through the darkness beyond the staging area’s harsh illumination.

“Contact north!” someone bellows. “Single shooter, elevated position!”

“Where’s the rest of the team?” Another voice, higher-pitched with panic.

My shadows respond to the violence and my own emotional turmoil, spiraling up from the ground in agitated streams that seem to drink the light around them. They move without my conscious direction, dark ribbons that coil and curl.

At that first shot, Kieran had frozen for exactly three heartbeats—long enough for me to see something crack across his face. Not the cold control he’s maintained since this nightmare began. Something rawer. More human.