Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ghost

C hoking down rage, whipping out my Benchmade from my vest, I cut her free before shoving her blindfold off.

Her gaze met mine, and she started to cry. "Grayson."

"Shh, shh." Pushing her hair back, I was scanning the thin scab across her throat and the welts on her wrists from the zip ties when she fucking lost it.

"No! It is a trap! They are going to kill you. It is—"

Slamming a hand back over her mouth but wishing like hell I didn't have to, I gave what I could before issuing orders. "I know, but I'm not going to let anyone kill either of us. I'm getting us out, but we're on borrowed time. No tears. No speaking. I trained you for this." I'd drilled her on silence. She was exceptional at it. "Nod if you copy."

Tears streamed down her face, but she nodded.

"Good. Removing my hand, then we're doing exactly as we've done before. I move, you move. I give an order, you follow it. Can you walk?"

She hesitated, then nodded.

My rage compounded as Helios spoke low through comms. "Two tangos incoming to your POS. You need to fucking move out."

Tapping my mic to unmute it on my end, I replied to Helios. "Good copy. Package in hand. Exfilling."

Removing my hand from her mouth, I stood and brought her to her feet as I quickly ran my hands over her limbs, checking for injuries.

Drugged on something, she swayed, but she didn't flinch at my touch.

Grabbing her shoulders, swearing a silent vow to kill al-Hashimi and every goddamn asshole on this compound, I took a second we didn't have to cup her face. "Company incoming. We need to move fast, and you're compromised. I'm carrying you." I didn't wait for a confirmation nod.

Ducking, I wrapped an arm around the back of her thighs and tossed her over my shoulder. Ignoring the flare of pain in my side, repositioning my rifle, I spoke into comms. "Ares, sitrep. Upstairs hallway."

"Clear," he whispered back.

Glancing out the door, I double-checked. Then I stepped out. "Oscar Tango Mike, back stairwell. Ares, cover. Helios, HVT sitrep."

"Covering," Ares answered.

"They're fucking drinking. Tell me again why I can't take out every fucker in here right now?"

November cut through the comms. "Last count, sixty-eight heat signatures on the property. Helios, hold. Ghost, keep moving. Ares, two tangos redirected at your nine o'clock, now heading toward your position."

"Copy, moving west to Helios," Ares answered.

"Hurry up or I'm leveling every fucker here without you," Helios added.

"Wait," I warned Helios, jogging down the back stairwell. "Second floor cleared. Coming to you."

November said, "Negative" the same time Helios said, "Fucking exfil."

"Fifteen seconds," I warned. This was my shot. No way in hell was Helios taking down al-Hashimi.

Helios lowered his voice. "You have your woman. Fall back to one of the SUVs and get to the fucking plane."

"We have this," Ares agreed.

"Airstrip now has company," November interjected.

I didn't get the chance to ask what kind of company.

" Motherfucker ," Helios swore. "They're picking up their drinks and bugging out. Now or never. Ares?"

"In position." Ares called out his shots. "Two guards on the left."

I hit their six, dropped Safiya in the hall, crouched low, and sighted around the corner into the compound's main living room as I caught sight of Helio's unsuppressed M4.

Ares dropped the first guard, and Ibrahim al-Hashimi fell into my crosshairs.

I pulled the trigger.

Al-Hashimi's head exploded the same time he took a five-five-six round to the chest.

Two more guards—the ones that'd taken Safiya—dropped. I took down the fourth, the doors from an adjacent room burst open at the sound of Helio's M4, and tangos spilled out, weapons drawn.

A firestorm erupted.