Page 101 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

I rip into my own MRE. Doesn’t matter what it is. Fuel is fuel, and my body screams for calories after the endless swimming and blood loss. The first bite hits my tongue—some kind of pasta—and suddenly I’m ravenous. We all are. The cave fills with the sounds of men devouring food.

“You animals ever hear of chewing?” Halo watches with disgusted fascination.

“Try swimming three miles with an injured leg.” I don’t look up from my meal. “Then judge my table manners.”

Halo just snorts, but there’s something almost like respect in his eyes.

We finish eating in minutes, crushing empty packets and stowing trash with the efficiency of men accustomed to leaving no trace. The calories hit my bloodstream like rocket fuel, clearing the fog that had settled in my brain. My body still aches, but the desperate emptiness is gone.

We take turns changing into dry gear. The relief of clean, dry clothing against the skin is almost as satisfying as the food. The bleeding in my leg has slowed to nearly nothing.

Brass sets another case by the wall. “Arms and munitions. Enough to outfit an army. Or eight determined men.”

“Status?” Ghost glances at Whisper, who monitors the drone feed.

“First units reaching the compound perimeter now.”

“Once the hive maps the compound—” Ethan watches the last drones vanish.

“—we find the girls.” I finish his thought.

“And how are we supposed to get to them?” Hank’s jaw tightens. “Waltz through the front gate?”

“Drainage tunnel. Sea-level. We scoped it out.” Ghost laughs, the sound of stones grinding together.

“Another swim?” Rigel groans.

“Three miles at night should’ve been nothing for girls like you.” Brass grins.

“Careful. I’m injured, not deaf.” I glare at him.

The banter feels good and pushes back the anxiety gnawing at my mind. The fear that we might be too late. That Ally might already be?—

No. Can’t think that way.

The women are too valuable to Malfor. He’ll keep them alive. They’re bait in his elaborate game—chess pieces he’s positioned carefully. This whole scenario reeks of a trap designed to lure in Guardian HRS and what’s left of Charlie team. The women are his leverage, his insurance. He needs them breathing.

Which means we’re walking straight into his trap. Unless—our untimely “demise” has already ruined his plans. The thought lands like ice in my gut. With Charlie team “dead,” the women lose their value as bait. Maybe he’s already decided to eliminate them, erase the evidence, clean up loose ends.

I glance at Hank across the shadowed cave. His eyes meet mine, jaw muscle pulsing beneath his skin. No words needed. I can read it in the tight line of his mouth, and the slight forward tilt of his body, he’s thinking the same thing.

Every second counts now.

“Okay, so we grab the girls. Then what? We’re still behind enemy lines. What’s our exfil?” Blake’s voice scrapes rough.

“Yeah, how do we get them out? Through the front gate?” Walt’s voice carries exhaustion and hope.

The question hangs over us all. Getting in is one thing. Getting out with civilians is another beast entirely.

“Exfil’s already waiting.” Ghost glances toward the cave mouth. “My team’s got RIBs staged offshore. Once we’ve got the girls, we move to the drop point. Rappel down the cliffs, load up, and vanish into the dark. Clean. Fast. Silent.”

A beat of silence.

“Copy that.” Ethan nods once.

We have a way in and a way out—a real shot at pulling this off.

Ghost moves to the center of our makeshift shelter. “Once the hive feeds back info, we move out. You’ve got eight men. We’ve got four. That’s twelve operators. We ghost in. We ghost out.”