Chapter 44

44

Abe’s boots sank with a squelch into the muddy riverbank as he hiked down to the water’s edge, his dive kit a reassuring weight against his back. Above, a sliver of moon peeked through tattered clouds, a brief respite from the unending rain, its pale light reflecting off the river’s dark surface.

Conditions are perfect.

He drew in a measured breath, letting the steady rush of the river flow through him, the way he had practiced thousands of times before night dives, but the knot in his chest refused to loosen.

Memories surfaced unbidden—years of SEAL operations that had taught him the importance of seamless coordination and unwavering trust. But tonight, a new variable thrummed through his veins, sharpening his focus to a razor’s edge. This wasn’t another mission. This was personal.

Freya.

He’d chosen a secluded entry point. Gnarled trees loomed overhead, their branches drooping under the weight of sodden leaves and tangled ivy. Nature’s very own camouflage in case Korolov’s men should patrol this far upriver, but given the earlier relentless rain that was unlikely. Even the most dedicated guards would be huddled in whatever shelter they could find, their attention dulled by the miserable night.

“You good?” Fox was indistinct in the gloom, smearing black face paint across his cheeks and forehead. In seconds, his beard seemed to dissolve into the darkness—another ghost in the night.

Abe rotated his injured shoulder. The pain had eased to a dull ache, but it was there. “Good enough.”

He ran his hands over his weapon. The Heckler & Koch MP5 was built for this. Water-resistant and suppressed, it would emerge from the river just as lethal as it entered. He cinched the straps on his air tanks, double checking each connection. The closed-circuit rebreathers were their edge—no telltale bubbles to betray their approach like amateurs. There was no room on this mission for equipment failure.

“Zak, signal when we hit sensor range.”

Zak’s face was all business. “Copy that. Abe?”

“What?”

“Watch your six down there.”

His grip hardened on his gun. Yeah. They better.

The river pulled at his legs as he waded in, freezing water rising past his thighs, his waist, threatening to pull him under.

He barely noticed. Each step took him closer to Freya. And that was all that mattered.

Fox moved beside him, arm extended, fist waiting. “Brothers.”

Abe’s knuckles met his in a brief reply. “Always.”

“Let’s find your woman and finish this.” Fox’s eyes held his for a moment before he slipped beneath the surface.

Abe took a final deep breath, the grimy bite of river water mixing with the rain’s sharp clarity on his tongue. As he submerged, leaving the world of air and sound behind, a single thought crystallized in his mind.

Find Freya.

And God help anyone who stood in his way.

The river rushed him as he sank. Upstream rainfall had transformed the water into a churning maelstrom of silt, debris, and mangled vegetation. The murky depths swallowed all light, creating a sensory deprivation chamber.

Abe toggled his headlamp, the beam cutting through the dirty water for mere inches before dissipating into nothingness. He extended his hand, gloved fingers probing the liquid void. Beyond his wrist, the world ceased to exist.

A muscle blipped in his jaw. Visibility officially FUBAR.

He switched his visor to the advanced mapping system. Instantly, a holographic overlay illuminated his field of vision, transforming the impenetrable darkness into a three-dimensional schematic of the river’s course. Twists and turns materialized in ghostly blue outlines.

A yellow blip pulsed just ahead—Fox taking point.

Abe kicked off, powerful strokes propelling him forward. The red glow of the mansion’s security perimeter loomed in the distance, a digital representation of Korolov’s defenses.

As he swam, his breathing settled into a steady rhythm, the rasp of inhalation a constant in the liquid silence. His heartbeat, once a thunderous gallop fueled by the shock of Freya’s abduction, now thumped with a metronomic precision. The initial surge of adrenaline had crystalized into laser-focused determination, muting the ache in his shoulder.

He would find her. He would bring her home. Failure wasn’t an option.

“Fox to Zak. I have eyes on the perimeter. Security and underwater monitoring systems confirmed. Over.”

“Roger, Fox.” Abe pushed against the current, his thighs burning with effort. “Hold position. ETA thirty seconds. Over.”

“Zak to Fox. Stand by. Prepping security power override. Wait for my mark.”

Abe slowed, pulling alongside Fox. Even through the tactical mask, he caught the grin. Fox flashed a thumbs-up in the murky gloom. We’ve got this.

Abe returned the gesture, shoving down the voice in his head, counting every lost second. “Copy that.”

“Power cuts on my mark.” Zak’s voice broke through. “Thirty seconds exactly. Set your timers on my count. Clear the sensor zone by fifty feet minimum when systems restore, or your heat trace triggers the alarm. No second chances.”

One hundred feet total.

“Copy.” Abe brought his arm up, his watch face ghostly in the brown water. Timer zeroed. His knees found the rough riverbed. Ready.

“Five.” Zak counted. “Four. Three.”

Fox shifted beside Abe, readying himself.

“Two.”

Almost there, Duchess.

“One.”

The red threat indicators on Abe’s visor winked out like dying stars.

“Security disabled. Guardsmen, execute. Mark thirty. Now.”

“Copy, Zak.” Abe hit his timer and kicked hard off the bottom, silt exploding around him. The deeper water fought him here, sucking current, fighting his strokes.

“Like swimming through your damn tea, Fox.” The words came through clenched teeth as he powered forward.

“Twenty feet to sensor line,” Fox grunted. “Keep pushing.”

Abe’s watch face flashed, counting downward in his peripheral vision.

“Twenty seconds.” Zak’s voice had lost its usual calm. “You’re on track, but cutting it damn close. Move it. ”

Abe kicked harder, fighting through the debris-choked water. His lungs flatlined, screaming for more oxygen than the rebreather could provide.

“Fifteen seconds.” Zak’s voice crackled through. “Still in the sensor zone, gentlemen. Push it .”

Fox churned water, twigs and leaves spinning in his wake. “Next time Zak”—Fox’s voice was guttural, “—you swim through this goddamn forest soup.”

“Cut the chatter.” Zak commanded. “Ten seconds.”

Abe’s visor display showed they’d passed the sensor markers, but the safe zone might as well have been miles away. Fuck . Twenty feet to safety. Ten. Nine. Eight. Sweat stung his eyes despite the cold. Seven. Six. Five.

“Fucking fuck this.” Fox’s breathing was ragged.

Four. Three. Two. One.

Red sensor indicators blazed to life on his visor as the power surged back online. Abe tucked and rolled, pulling his legs tight to his body. He held his breath as he somersaulted, anticipating the inevitable—klaxons splitting the air, boots churning the water, muzzle flashes destroying the dark night.

Nothing.

Only his labored gasps through the rebreather. Made it.

“Gentlemen, I can confirm your painfully slow asses cleared the sensors. Ground security is running a rotating patrol pattern. Watch your exit point.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Fox muttered. “I vote Zak plays swamp rat next time.”

Zak’s snort echoed on the comms. “You’re killing me.”

As they moved into shallower water, Abe’s feet found rocky grip on the riverbed. He surfaced in tandem with Fox, eyes and noses breaking the surface as they surveyed the landscape.

No sign of any security.

The mansion loomed ahead, pale stone rising into the night. Flood lights carved harsh shadows across its walls, creating pools of absolute darkness between brilliant white glare.

Perfect killing zones—for them or for Korolov’s men.

He checked his wrist. The tracker was still maddeningly silent.

Beside him, Fox rose and removed his mask. His teeth shone white against his dark face. “Awful quiet up there.” A wide smirk lifted his features. “Let’s make some noise.”