THIRTEEN

Zarek

"We all know our assignments and positions. It's basic interception and retrieval of goods. Shoot to maim only. Let's go!" My voice echoed commandingly through the warehouse.

"Yes, boss!" Logan responded with a playful salute.

As we all moved toward the main exit, fully geared in our vests and masks, I couldn't help but steal a glance back at Leora. There she stood, somehow radiant even in the starkness of a tank top, vest, and shorts. The thought of leaving her alone left a familiar ache in my chest.

Our eyes met, and a jolt of electricity seemed to surge through the space between us.

"Fuck it." The word slipped from my lips before I even realized I'd spoken. I paced back towards her, yanking down my mask as I closed the distance. Once she was within reach, I grabbed her by the waist, pulling her forcefully toward me, and captured her mouth with mine.

It felt like I finally had the answer to all my questions. Why had I stalked her? Why was I obsessed with her?

This . This is why.

I was melting into her when her lips parted, welcoming me in. Diving into the kiss, my tongue explored hers in an enchanting dance. It was a punishing, consuming kiss that left us both gasping for air, her hands traveled to my neck, pulling me closer. She moaned into the kiss, a sound so profoundly beautiful it shattered all my defenses. At that moment, I was utterly lost, and hell , I didn't want to be found.

Too soon, the necessity of the moment forced us to part.

I kissed her once more, gently this time, a stark contrast to the fierce urgency of our first. Reluctantly turning away, I rejoined my squad by the door. Logan smirked and tossed the car keys to me, his wink at Leora both teasing and knowing.

I shot him a glare. Opening the door, I stepped out, haunted by the thought that this fervent, stolen kiss might be the first and last with Leora for many reasons.

???

"No one's here." Logan's voice came through the earpiece.

Amelia and I were stationed in a three-bedroom detached house, strategically positioned half a block from Crazon's drop-off location. Meanwhile, Kabir, Dylan, and Logan were on point for the interception, with us ready as backup.

"I have eyes on an armored truck at the south entrance of the target house." Amelia reported, her eyes glued to the drone feed on her laptop.

"They're here. I repeat, shoot to maim, gather the goods, and get the hell out. The goods are what we're here for," I directed my next statement to the one person I thought could be reckless, "Titan, you hear me? We don't need hostages to question."

There was silence for a good five seconds before Dylan's rough voice came through, "Copy."

"I see two heat signatures, Gunner. One on the porch, one inside, six meters from the door," she relayed.

"Copy," Logan uttered.

I saw a scuffle happen between two dots in her laptop.

"Front porch clear. Cipher and Gunner are a go," Logan.

"Titan providing cover," Dylan .

A few minutes passed by, and after a few gunshots, I heard a long silence.

"Gunner, clear, unhit, on extraction." Logan.

"Cipher, clear, unhit, on extraction." Kabir.

The silence that followed was thicker, tenser. Then it was shattered by a strained report, "Titan, unclear, incapacitated, near north entrance."

As soon as Dylan's pained voice cut through the earpiece, a curse slipped from my lips. Amelia's face drained of color, her eyes widened in shock, and her lips trembled.

I let out a heavy, erratic sigh and took command, "Ghost, engaging, rescuing Titan."

"Got your six, Ghost," Logan said .

"Falcon, get on extraction and support Cipher," I said.

When she didn't move, I grabbed her by her shoulders and gave her an affirming nod, "Your brother's fine, Amelia. He's alive. I'll bring him back."

She nodded, her eyes quickly blinking away the fear as she unholstered her gun and rushed out through the back exit.

Giving myself a moment to collect my thoughts, I sprinted towards the target house, an old, mansion-sized Victorian. An unconscious guard lay on the porch as I entered.

Inside, I searched for Dylan. A man lay sprawled near the entryway, clearly injured but still a threat as his eyes met mine and he fired. I dodged, taking cover behind a couch, then moved quietly towards him.

Shots whizzed by. Another shot. And another.

I rose and returned fire.

Logan burst in from the back, diving and sliding towards the assailant. He grabbed the man by the neck, cutting off his blood supply with a precise chokehold.

"Thanks, Gunner," I acknowledged with a nod as Logan smiled back.

"Fucking nineteen!" He boasted, referring to the countless times he'd been my savior since the CIA.

I waved him off.

As soon as I saw movement near the kitchen, I strode towards it stealthily. A man with dark hair lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

Dylan. Fuck.

Adrenaline surged as I ran to him, lifting the formidable bulk of his body onto my shoulder, and made a dash for the exit .

"Just like old times, Ghost," he whispered.

"Don't speak."

Once I reached the surveillance house half a block away, adrenaline still pumping, I hoisted Dylan onto the dining table, an impromptu operating surface. Ripping open a box of first aid supplies, I frantically scattered gauze, skin glue, and medical tape across the surface. "I got you, Dyl," I murmured, part reassurance, part promise.

Quickly, I stripped him of his vest and located the wound just below his collarbone. A guttural scream tore from Dylan's throat as I peeled back his shirt, revealing the damage.

"Through and through, Titan. You're good," I assessed aloud, trying to inject a bit of confidence into the grim situation as I began the patch-up job.

"Report status, Gunner," I called through the earpiece, my hands steady as I worked.

"Six of their men hit, five unconscious, one dead. House is clear. Shipment secure in our Escalade. How's Dyl?" Logan's voice crackled through, business as usual.

"He's fine, lost a bunch of blood. Falcon, get back here for assist," I said.

I didn't really need help. But I knew Amelia wanted to see her brother alive and breathing. A few minutes later she ran back in, cupped his cheeks and smiled.

"There's no 901 without 900, brother," she whispered in his ear.

"There's no," Dylan let out a heavy breath, "900 without 901, sister."

"Glad you're not dead." She turned to me then. "What do you need? "

"All set," I patched him with skin glue, put a gauze on him and taped him up. "There. Done!"

Amelia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked at Dylan, a silent exchange of sibling love passing between them.

"Let's go back, squad," I stated.

"Back to the lovely Leora, I see?" Logan's voice teased through the earpiece, a chuckle softening the edges of a tense day.

"Read the room, Gunner," I muttered, rolling my eyes even though he couldn't see.