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Pincho stood at the high, narrow window of her office in her mansion in the Darién Gap, everything she ever wanted within easy reach or order, absently fingering the pearl-handled pistol that had been a gift from her father, the infamous Nacho, or, as she and her mom had known him, Ignacio Siachoque.

The afternoon sun cut streaks of orange across the gorgeous Italian marble floor, forming jagged shadows that seemed to point accusing fingers at her. Her jaw was set, her eyes dark, looking out on the beauty of her domain.

They hadn’t checked in, and that was a very bad sign. She’d sent eight men to do away with one woman and two small children. The fact that they hadn’t called in dawned on her an hour ago, and she’d sent another group of men to investigate why. Her cell phone rang, and she pushed away from the window and answered. What she heard on the other end of the line made her mouth tighten.

They had failed. Her handpicked, well-paid, and brutal death squad were all dead. Not only did they fail to capture Blade, they hadn’t even managed to eliminate his wife and children. Pincho knew the implications of these slayings. The Americans, those fucking Navy SEALs.

Blade would undoubtedly share everything he knew now that his family was safe. Worse still, the United States government wasn’t delivering on its promise to free the man she loved more than life itself—her husband. Her bravado when she gave them seven days to produce him, seven days while holding their precious SEAL, and a US attorney had sounded so sure in her own ears.

Now, with the deadline nearly passed, dread knotted in her stomach. She clenched her fists around the pistol as though it were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

Her father-in-law, Hermano, with more lines of worry on his brow than she could remember, stepped quietly into the room. She had allowed him to minister to the SEAL, to keep him alive for her purposes only. He was a good man, and he had raised a good son, but neither of them would ever see their sweet and beautiful Angel again. Fury rose in her, fury and heartbreak.

He cast a desperate glance at her, then shifted his gaze to the men gathered by the door. Men ready to carry out her orders the moment she uttered them. She looked out the window, and her heart hardened, vengeance claiming what little goodness that had been there.

“You still have a chance, Pincho,” the older man pleaded, voice trembling. “Let the Americans go. Show them some mercy.”

She looked at him as though he’d spoken an alien tongue. Her brows furrowed, that anger climbing. “Mercy? For the people responsible for my father’s death? For the people who hunted my husband down? Who arrested him, paraded him in court like some animal, and then sentenced him to death? They’re the reason he’s rotting in a US prison. And they’ve lied to me, with their promises…their false assurances.” She stared at nothing, her heart empty. “They’re only alive because I waited for our deal to be honored.”

Her father-in-law took a shaky breath. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, ignoring the tension that rippled through her. “You aren’t like this,” he said. “I remember the day you married my son. You were?—”

“Happy,” Pincho finished, her voice dropping to a whisper. A swirl of conflicting emotions rose in her, tightening her throat. She closed her eyes, the memory of that moment overshadowed by years of bloodshed. “I was happy until all of this took over my life. Until Nacho, my own father, showed me what ‘business’ really meant. I was just a girl…I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

Guilt flared white-hot within her. She was no innocent. There were too many bodies, too many orders she herself had given in her husband’s name. There was no escaping the truth. Every day, she was the one signing off on brutalities that spread terror like a stain. But had it all been for nothing? Even the US government she had tried to leverage was more interested in waiting her out than actually freeing her husband. They had likely never intended to release him at all.

Her father-in-law still wouldn’t give up. “There’s another path. If you just let them go?—”

“No,” Pincho snapped, turning away and staring again through the window at the manicured lawn, and the patchwork stone road winding through the white and wrought iron gates outside. Tension clawed at her ribs. “I do that, and the next thing I know, the Americans will storm this place. They’ll come after me for kidnapping one of their SEALs and their US attorney…maybe for all of it.”

Her eyes flicked to the sliver of sky overhead, imagining the black helicopters that would descend if word got out. She had seen it happen before, blitz operations, no mercy given. She had never cared about her own safety until now, and the realization tasted bitter. She had lost her husband. And if he was gone for good, what was left?

She steeled herself, raised her hand. “Kill them,” she ordered, voice clipped, trying not to let her own tremor of regret seep in. She could feel the shock and disappointment radiating from her father-in-law, could almost see him flinch at her words.

“It’s over,” she continued, quieter now but no less sure. “We’ve stalled too long, and I can’t risk Blade telling them everything he knows. I can’t risk them using these two against me. End it.”

A murmur went through the armed men. They looked to one another, then to Pincho’s father-in-law, who shook his head as though silently pleading with them not to obey. His eyes brimmed with sorrow as he turned to Pincho one last time.

“Please,” he begged, voice breaking. “Lucia, don’t do this.”

She refused to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the acid rush in her chest, that familiar bite of shame coupled with the cold practicality that had come to define her. She remembered Nacho’s lessons: never show weakness, never leave a threat unresolved. That same father had set her down this bloody path, shaping her ruthlessness, forging her as the weapon she had become.

Even now, as she prepared to cross another line, she felt the weight of the inevitable consequences. The Americans were going to come for her, with a vengeance they rarely unleashed on foreign soil. She could almost hear the roar of approaching engines. In a fleeting flash, she wondered if any of this had been worth it…if there was still time to turn back.

Then she shut that thought away. She couldn’t afford doubt, not when she was this close to freefall.

“Do it,” Pincho repeated, the words scraping her throat raw. She tightened her grip on the pearl-handled pistol, forcing herself to stand tall as a hail of footsteps followed her command. The sun lowered outside, stretching the room’s shadows to monstrous proportions. She realized those shadows were but reflections of her own twisted choices.

Leigh’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she sat in the dim cell, her back pressed against the cold concrete wall. Hazard lay unmoving on the narrow cot, his breathing shallow and erratic. The sight of him like this, unconscious, with his head swathed in makeshift bandages, filled her with a dread she couldn’t shake. Was he ever going to be the same man she’d promised to marry? Or was she going to lose him altogether before they even had the chance to begin their life together?

Pincho’s deadline was nearly up. Time had almost run out. Leigh gritted her teeth, fighting the wave of desperation that crested every time she glanced at Hazard’s motionless form. If Hazard’s team didn’t get here soon, if the US Navy SEALs, the Justice Department, JSOC…all of them…couldn’t break through this fortress of violence, she and Hazard would vanish into the blackness that Pincho commanded.

She still reeled from the knowledge that the man they had put away, Angel Alzate, had been nothing more than a convenient smokescreen. They had believed he was the head of the snake, but the real mastermind had always been Pincho herself. Every second that slipped by was one more second Leigh had to accept their failure in stopping the cycle of bloodshed that Pincho now carried on with chilling efficiency.

Her eyes settled on Hazard’s face. She reached out, trembling fingers brushing across his cheek, recalling how he’d whispered their future like a promise. She smiled at how excited he’d gotten over a garage, and all of it, marriage, a home, a life worth living. Now his skull was fractured, his body caught in a coma he couldn’t fight alone. Pincho’s father-in-law, the only one with a shred of compassion in this den of cruelty, had begged Pincho to allow Hazard real medical care. But Pincho had refused—no hospitals. Leigh’s heart clenched to think that if Hazard couldn’t pull through with minimal aid…she might have only these last few hours with him.

She pictured Iceman, Anna, Hummingbird, and Strekoza, and his whole team of SEAL brothers, the loyal, tight-knit circle she knew would move heaven and earth to rescue Hazard if they could. Her chest tightened at the thought of their faces twisting in grief when they learned the truth, if it came to that. It would devastate them all, shattering the team that Hazard was a part of, and in their hearts, always feeling as if they were a man short.

“I’m sorry,” Leigh whispered, though she wasn’t certain if she was speaking to Hazard, or to the team, or to herself for all that she was going to lose. If she did make it out alive, she would prosecute Pincho to the fullest extent of the law. The US wouldn’t stand by while a single cartel spread a web of murder, corruption, and filthy drugs across its soil. But if she and Hazard were lost, she prayed the SEALs, the Justice Department, everyone they’d worked with, would bring Pincho to justice.

A sudden clamor echoed in the distance. Heavy footsteps thudded down the corridor, and Leigh’s blood ran cold. Their time had run out. Her heart hammered, but she steadied herself, slipping onto the cot beside Hazard, tucking herself close to his side. If this was the end, she would meet it with her chin held high, determined not to give Pincho, or any of her henchmen, the satisfaction of her fear.

The lock clicked and screeched as it turned, and the door swung open with a slow, ominous groan. She wrapped her arms around the man she would have taken as her husband as the seconds ticked down to the end of her life, pressing her cheek to his, breathing in his unique scent and the warmth of his body, gaining comfort from him. She could only be grateful that her last moments would be with him. And that would be enough.

Skull caught his breath as he crouched low beneath the tangled palms, the heavy press of humidity clinging to every inch of his fatigues. Moisture dripped from the broad leaves overhead, and rivulets of sweat ran down his neck, soaking the collar of his camouflage shirt. All around him, his teammates, Boomer, Kodiak, GQ, Breakneck, and Preacher moved with methodical precision, guided by the cool, controlled commands of their master chief. Bones padded silently in the muddy undergrowth, nose to the ground yet ears pricked for the faintest sign of trouble. Walker and Strekoza flanked the SEALs with barely a sound, their eyes reflecting the same unrelenting focus that burned in the gaze of the men around them.

The Darién Gap itself felt like a living thing. Vines and roots seemed to reach out to snag boots and rifle slings with every step. Heat radiated from the swampy ground, and insects buzzed relentlessly, striking at exposed skin. As Skull inched forward, his heart pounded in time with each squelch of the wet earth underfoot. They were running out of time. Hazard and Leigh were locked away inside Pincho’s fortress, and there was no next plan—this was it. A last-ditch attempt. If they failed, the idea of what Pincho might do to their captive comrades hollowed out Skull’s chest with an ache of dread.

Underneath that dread, though, flared an unwavering resolve. Even fear, in this moment, sharpened his senses instead of dulling them. Skull felt the comforting weight of his carbine as he cradled it close. Night-vision goggles rested just above the brim of his boonie hat, ready to slip down at the master chief’s signal. Every click of gear, every quiet exchange of hand signals reminded him of the countless times they had drilled for missions like this, but the stakes had never felt so impossibly high.

Iceman glanced back for a split second, catching Skull’s eye. In that subtle tilt of the head, Skull understood everything. Keep it together. We move as one. Failure is not an option. Skull nodded, inhaling the thick, wet air as if it might steady the roiling in his gut. Bones whined softly, sensing his handler’s tension. Skull reached out, a comforting touch on the dog’s flank.

They pressed forward, forging through tangles of twisted vegetation, rifles at the ready. Branches snapped underfoot. Around them, the rainforest roared with life, but the team marched in disciplined silence. Hours, minutes, time lost meaning in that hot, suffocating green labyrinth. Sweat blurred Skull’s vision and burned his eyes, but he forced himself to blink it away, ignoring every distraction for the sake of those two lives at risk.

Finally, a gap in the jungle canopy revealed a distant glow of floodlights, strobing through the tree line. Pincho’s mansion fortress loomed beyond the dense foliage, a sprawling compound of concrete walls and razor wire. Even from here, Skull could see armed sentries prowling the perimeter. He felt his heart tighten. This was the moment. Either they reached Hazard and Leigh now, or everything they had fought for would be lost.

Skull’s muscles tensed as Iceman signaled them into formation. Tactics took over. Each man had a sector to cover, a precise role to play. Boomer and Kodiak readied their suppressed weapons, scanning the watchtowers. GQ and Breakneck tapped at their comm devices, eyes on the outer guard rotation. Walker and Strekoza ghosted into the shadows to position themselves for infiltration. Bones lowered his body, ears perked and muzzle alert, prepared to sprint or stand guard at Skull’s command.

Skull couldn’t stop picturing Hazard and Leigh, worn-down, Hazard gravely injured, somewhere in that fortress. His fear built with every beat of his heart, a tight coil threatening to snap if he let himself dwell on it. But he welcomed the adrenaline, let it pulse through his veins, fueling the iron determination that only a warrior on a rescue mission could carry. He allowed himself a brief thought for his dad, a quiet urging for him to hang on. This was almost over. His mom’s texts had only told him that he was still fighting. His rock.

One silent breath, and he willed the terror into submission. There would be no margin for error now. Danger, heat, humidity were just more obstacles, like the thick walls or armed guards they’d soon confront. Each was something to be overcome, just one more step on the path to retrieve their team. That knowledge steadied him.

He looked from Iceman to Bones and then to the compound once more. They were out of time. This was their last shot.

“Move,” Iceman ordered in a low rasp. And with that single word, Skull led the charge, fear be damned. They’d come too far to leave anyone behind. They would succeed or they would never leave this jungle alive.

“All right, listen up,” Iceman growled softly, his voice calm but charged with authority. He moved his gaze from one operative to the next. The team crouched behind a thick tangle of palm fronds, the sweat sliding down his temples as he listened to Iceman’s whispered orders. Despite the cloak of darkness in the jungle, the compound’s floodlights painted patches of bright white across the perimeter walls. Skull’s pulse hammered in his ears as he glanced around at his teammates, each man tense, keyed up, and ready to strike. “Breakneck, you go west. Preacher, find your nest in that tree line to the east. Overwatch. Target anything that moves in those towers, gate security, and any patrols that swing our way. Report movement the second you see it. As soon as we breach, take out those lights.”

“Copy,” Breakneck and Preacher replied in unison.

“The kid doesn’t get to overshadow me this time,” Preacher said.

“Don’t be so sure about that old man,” Breakneck said, a cool, self-assured edge in his tone. He shifted the long sniper rifle on his back and faded into the night toward higher ground, boots making barely a whisper against the damp soil.

“Damn, cocky kid,” Preacher grumbled as he too was lost in the shadows.

“Boomer, Kodiak, front gate. You’ll be our battering ram. Plant the charges. On my mark, blow it and push through.”

“Copy that,” Boomer said, carefully steadying an explosive pack across his shoulder. Kodiak nodded silently, adjusting his suppressed rifle.

“GQ, you’re on the breach team with them. Watch their backs. Once the gate is down, secure the perimeter. Check the corners for hostiles, keep their heads down.”

GQ tightened his gloved hands around his carbine. “Got it, boss,” he said quietly. Boomer offered a curt nod, his jaw clenched in a silent vow to punch through that obstacle just like he always did.

“Hummingbird, Strekoza,” Iceman continued, turning to the two Shadowguard operatives. “Flank the south wall. We need your stealth. Disable alarms, cameras—whatever gets in our way. Then find our people. It’s going to be loud at the gate, so use that to your advantage.”

Walker and Strekoza exchanged looks, both wearing the sort of unreadable confidence that seemed forged in deep-cover missions. They slipped away silently, disappearing into the shadows. Skull’s heart went with her as he allowed himself fleeting concern for her safety. She was a warrior like him, but she was his woman as well, and he couldn’t think about her without those strong emotions swamping him.

Finally, Iceman’s gaze landed on Skull. “You and Bones are on point with me. Once we’re through the gate, keep that dog on a tight leash, and sniff out any hidden threats. If we run into trouble, you let him loose.”

Skull exhaled slowly, nodding. Bones had pressed up close against Skull’s leg, sensing the tension emanating from his handler. The dog’s wiry muscles were coiled tight, the low rumble of a barely contained growl vibrating against Skull’s thigh. He patted Bones once on the shoulder, a gesture of reassurance. “You got it, boss” he whispered.

“Objectives are clear,” Iceman said, pressing a final, determined glance around the circle of men. “Phase one: push through the gate. Phase two: assault the mansion. Let’s get Hazard and Leigh out of that hellhole. No mistakes.”

They broke apart, each man shifting to his assigned position. Skull’s heart thudded as he watched Boomer and Kodiak move along the outer wall, creeping around the bright arcs of floodlight.

“Set, boss,” Breakneck’s tense voice came over the comms, followed shortly after that by Preacher’s. Their two snipers were invisible in the treetops. The tension was electric, every crackle of radio comms a jolt to remind them the clock was ticking.

At Iceman’s nod, Boomer rigged small explosive charges on the compound’s gate hinges and lock. GQ and Kodiak took positions to either side of the wrought-iron bars, weapons ready to unleash suppressed rounds at any guard unlucky enough to investigate.

In the distance, a guard emerged in one of the towering watchposts, peering through binoculars. Skull tensed, praying Breakneck or Preacher had the angle.

The guard’s head jerked back, dropping in a lifeless heap before he could sound an alarm. One suppressed shot, one silent kill. Skull allowed himself a brief flash of gratitude for Breakneck’s steady aim.

A quick hiss from Boomer. “Ready,” he mouthed into the radio.

“Send it,” Iceman said.

Boom.

The gate blew apart with a deafening crack, and sparks erupted in the darkness as metal tore like paper. Immediately following the explosion, the lights went out. Boomer and Kodiak swung out into the open, rifles spitting quiet bursts of gunfire. GQ rushed in behind them, systematically cutting down stunned sentries scrambling to respond. Overhead, muzzle flashes flickered from the towers, but Breakneck and Preacher fired with machine-like efficiency, each bullet finding its mark before the enemy could get a shot off.

“Move!” Iceman barked.

Skull and Bones bolted forward, weaving past the twisted remains of the gate. Thick smoke and dust choked the air. Bones coughed once, his muzzle twitching, but he pushed through, nose ready to detect any hidden threat. The lights along the compound’s outer walls flickered as Walker and Strekoza did their parts, disabling systems from within.

Shots rang out from deeper inside the courtyard. Skulking shapes in camouflage rushed from behind crates and vehicles. Skull pivoted on instinct, his carbine bucking in his hands, muzzle flash illuminating the contorted expressions of the attackers. Bones let out a warning bark, the dog’s posture rigid. Skull felt the weight of a bullet pinging off the cracked concrete near his boots and Bones took off, sensing the unseen danger behind a hedgerow. He leapt through the bushes, and Skull charged through.

Bones had latched onto the man’s arm, and Skull put the hostile down. Together they went back through the foliage as another hail of return fire from Boomer and Kodiak ripped across the courtyard, forcing enemy heads down.

In the chaos, the rest of the team pressed the advantage, stepping over fallen hostiles and pushing deeper into the compound. Skull’s ears rang from the explosions and rapid gunfire, but he forced himself to focus on the next objective. The mansion loomed ahead, a monolithic shape against the night sky, its textured plaster walls lit by harsh floodlights. Too close to turn back now.

“Bones, search!” Skull hissed. The dog sprang forward, sniffing the air, weaving around debris. If there were more hidden threats behind the low garden walls or flanking positions, Bones would scent them out.

A crisp voice crackled in Skull’s earpiece—Strekoza. “Western corridor secured. Meet us on the south side. Hummingbird’s cutting the security feed. You won’t believe how many cameras they had rigged in here.”

Skull’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Walker. She was a trained killer, deadly and precise, who had single-handedly taken down more threats than Skull could count. Yet as soon as he heard her name, a dart of fear pierced through the steady hum of his adrenaline. No matter how skilled she was, he couldn’t stifle the overwhelming surge of feelings that rose in his chest. In the thick of this mission, every second counted, and Walker was deep in the belly of Pincho’s fortress, taking on entire networks of cameras and fuck only knew what else. Steeling himself, Skull focused on the present, swallowing his anxieties as he tightened his grip on his rifle. Walker could handle herself, but he silently kept her in his thoughts. She was now embedded in his heart.

Iceman nodded curtly, eyes sweeping the courtyard. “We’re heading your way. Keep us updated.” Then to the rest of the squad, “Stay tight. Move on the mansion.”

Skull’s adrenaline spiked as he stepped over shards of broken concrete, inching toward the large wooden double doors that served as the mansion’s main entrance. It felt like every second stretched into eternity as they advanced. Another exchange of gunfire erupted, short and sharp. Skull watched GQ mow down two more guards who’d attempted a desperate charge.

They were close now and Hazard and Leigh had to be somewhere beyond those doors, maybe hidden away in Pincho’s labyrinth of rooms. Skull imagined them exhausted, maybe terrified. The pit in his stomach turned to raw fury at the thought, fueling each step he took.

Through the swirling dust, Iceman guided them to cover behind a toppled statue near the front stairs. The brief lull let them re-check mags and reload. Skull pressed his palm against Bones’s haunches, feeling the dog’s rapid breathing. Just minutes into the assault, and the courtyard was theirs.

“Push forward,” Iceman commanded. “On my order, we breach the mansion. Once inside, stick to your assignments. We clear room by room until we find our people.”

Skull’s chest tightened. His determination drowned out the lingering fear as he aligned behind Iceman. If Pincho’s men had any last surprises, they would face the full brunt of a SEAL team’s wrath. Hazard and Leigh’s lives were all that mattered. Skull steadied his breathing, focusing on the door that stood between him and the ones he swore he’d save.

Iceman tensed. “Execute.”

Skull felt the surge of unstoppable will. They were out of time, but ready to storm through whatever wall stood in their way. The wolfpack was knocking and it was now or never.

They sprang forward as one.

Walker’s heart drummed in her ears as she followed Strekoza down a narrow corridor beyond the mansion’s central security office. The steel door they’d just bypassed had proven more of a nuisance than a challenge, each click of her lock-picking kit satisfying a small portion of her methodical mind. Now, with the hallway lit only by flickering emergency lights, they descended a set of worn stone steps. The stale air smelled of mildew and rot. Patches of moisture slicked the walls, each rough stone glistening faintly in the half-dark.

Distant gunfire erupted overhead. Sounded like the team had breached the mansion.

At the bottom of the stairs, they found a cramped space lined by six doors, three on each side. Rusted iron locks hung from every door, while a damp chill set in around them. Hummingbird’s skin prickled. This place felt ancient, as though the stone beneath her feet had seen every form of suffering. She glanced at Strekoza, her partner’s silhouette tense but ready. He nodded, signaling her to begin their search. Carefully, she crouched in front of the first lock, inserting her picks with practiced ease.

It gave way with a soft snick, and she pushed the door open. The stale odor of neglect hit her senses, making her stomach knot. The cell was empty with just chains and a small cot. She hoped Hazard and Leigh wouldn’t be in worse condition, but the gnawing fear clung to the back of her mind like a shadow. If Pincho had them locked up here, time was everything. Steadying herself, she moved to the next door, controlling her breathing.

As she picked the second lock, an unwanted but insistent thought surfaced. Skull. She could see him in her mind, the grim determination in his eyes, Bones at his side, forging onward through the mansion’s chaos. She knew he was capable, his entire team was the embodiment of lethal skill, but that knowledge didn’t quell the tightness in her chest. She realized with an odd pang that, in all her years of infiltration and covert missions, she’d never allowed herself the space to truly worry about anyone like this. It was a foreign feeling for someone who prided herself on self-sufficiency and unwavering composure. But the possibility of something happening to him or the dog, or any of them, felt like a knife twisting in her gut.

She forced her mind to return to the here and now. That was her to the core, thoughtful, bold, always working through contingencies. Yet for the first time, Walker questioned whether her sealed-off existence might have to change. Even a CIA Shadowguard operative could long for deeper connections, for a life that didn’t revolve solely around infiltration and elimination. Her lockpicks jostled in the tumblers. Maybe, she thought, there’s more to living than hiding behind her Shadowguard persona, never being just Walker, but always that quick and darting Hummingbird. Could she pull all those pieces of herself into one unified whole, for him, for her? The lock gave a final click, shaking her out of her introspection. Together, she and Strekoza pushed the door open, bracing themselves for what they might find.