Page 41 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

No!

Cassidy's breath seized in her throat as Vega raised his weapon. The barrel centered on Kenji's forehead, and she could see his finger beginning the fatal squeeze that would end everything—every unspoken word, every stolen moment, every future they'd never have.

Her body moved without conscious thought, straining against Sophia's restraining grip. But she was too far away, separated by tons of debris and the cruel mathematics of time and distance. A scream built in her chest, clawing for release?—

The windows exploded.

Not one or two, but every remaining pane in the ballroom's ruined wall detonated inward simultaneously. Glass became shrapnel, spinning through the smoke-filled air like crystal snow. The concussion hit her eardrums with physical force, and suddenly the world erupted into controlled chaos.

Five figures poured through the shattered openings like avenging angels in tactical black.

"Knight Tactical! Nobody move!” A tall figure ordered. “Weapons down! Now!"

Hope flooded Cassidy's system. A shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. They'd made it. Against every odd, through a hurricane and Vega's fortress, Kenji’s team?—

"Stay down," Sophia hissed, pulling her behind a section of fallen wall. "We're on the wrong side of this party."

The debris wall Kenji had created to save them now stood between them and Kenji’s team.

She pressed against the rubble, suddenly aware of the fake blood that had congealed into a sticky second skin across her face and neck.

It cracked at the corners of her mouth as she grimaced, the iodine smell mixing with dust and smoke.

The grotesque mask they'd painted on her to fool death now felt like war paint for a battle not yet won.

On the far side of the ballroom, Spencer crouched next to a group of shell-shocked guests, his face pale with shock and streaked with plaster dust.

Through gaps in their cover, she watched the deadly chess match unfold. Knight Tactical advanced, but Vega's mercenaries didn’t panic. Rather than engaging Kenji’s team, they headed toward the civilians.

The hurricane's eye had drawn dozens from their shelters—tourists in torn resort wear, staff in uniforms, families clutching each other. Now they found themselves human shields, corralled with weapons that promised violence for disobedience.

"Is it over?" a woman sobbed, mascara streaming down her cheeks. "Are we safe now?"

"Please, my daughter—she's only twelve?—"

"Everyone stay calm and you won't be hurt!"

The voices blended into a symphony of fear that made Cassidy's stomach churn. The fake blood on her skin felt obscene now—playacting at death while real violence threatened innocents.

Knight Tactical's advance stalled. They were between Kenji and Vega’s men, but she could see the frustration in their body language—weapons carefully angled away from civilian clusters, movement restricted by the innocent bodies Vega's men had expertly positioned.

Every tactical advantage neutralized by the simple presence of people who'd done nothing wrong except seek shelter in the wrong place.

Through the orchestrated confusion, movement caught her eye. Vega, no longer focused on Kenji, was sliding along the room's perimeter. His path would take him directly past?—

"Spencer," she breathed, horror crystallizing as she recognized his target.

Their friend stood at the edge of a civilian cluster, separated from the main group by a few crucial feet. His attention was fixed on the Knight Tactical team, hope and relief written across his features.

Vega moved with viper speed. One moment Spencer was standing alone; the next, an arm locked around his throat while Vega's pistol pressed against his temple.

"No!" The word tore from Cassidy's throat before she could stop it.

Spencer's eyes went wide with shock and terror as Vega yanked him backward.

Cassidy started forward, but Sophia's grip held her back. "Let him go!"

"You can't," Sophia hissed. "That's what he wants—more leverage."

Helpless rage burned through her chest as she watched Vega reposition Spencer in front of him. The young man who'd risked everything to help them, who'd found courage he didn't know he possessed, was now a human shield for the monster they'd tried to stop.

"Weapons down or the trust fund baby gets a third eye." Webb's voice boomed across the space, translating his boss's silent commands into tactical reality.

Knight Tactical frozes. Cassidy could see their dilemma written in rigid shoulders and carefully controlled movements. They couldn't advance without endangering civilians.

Vega used the stalemate to continue his measured retreat, dragging Spencer toward a side exit.

One of the two female agents knelt next to Kenji. "He’s critical."

The world contracted to a single point of agonizing clarity. Every second they delayed was a second stolen from his survival chances. But Vega was escaping with Spencer, and once he reached that submarine?—

Sounds faded to a distant roar—shouting voices, crying civilians, the building's dying groans all becoming white noise beneath the thundering of her own heartbeat. The fake blood on her skin cracked as her expression shifted from despair to determination.

Through a shattered window frame, she caught a glimpse of Vega's destination. The path he was taking led only one place—the submarine dock. Their last chance to stop him was measured in seconds, not minutes.

Beside her, Sophia had gone perfectly still. Not the stillness of fear but of recognition.

Their eyes met. A lifetime of communication passed in that glance—acknowledgment of the choice before them, acceptance of what it meant, commitment to see it through.

Cassidy looked back toward Kenji. Another woman had joined the first, the two of them ministering to him while their teammates tried to establish control over the civilian chaos while Vega’s men scattered.

Kenji’s was in the best possible hands. She had to trust that, had to believe that God wouldn't bring them this far only to?—

Lord, give me strength, she prayed, the words flowing from that deep place where faith lived beneath fear. Help me do what needs to be done.

Peace settled over her like armor. Not the absence of fear but the presence of purpose.

Spencer needed them.

Sometimes faith meant stepping into the storm instead of waiting for rescue.

"The dock," she whispered to Sophia, the words cracking dried fake blood at the corners of her mouth. "He's heading for the submarine."

Sophia nodded once, her hand checking the weapon at her hip with practiced efficiency. "Through the kitchen corridor. Less exposure."

They moved together, slipping through the chaos with the synchronized purpose of people who'd found their mission. Behind them, Knight Tactical continued their delicate dance of control and restraint, carefully separating civilians from threats while medical worked on their fallen brother.

Ahead, through smoke and shadow, Vega disappeared into the resort's bowels, shoving Spencer ahead of him.

Cassidy touched her cross once more, drawing strength from its familiar weight. Then she was running, Sophia beside her, toward a final confrontation with the man who'd turned paradise into hell.

Hold on, Spencer, she thought as they plunged into the darkened corridor. We're coming.