Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

SETH

T he night had swallowed Seth whole as he moved silently through the darkness, his every sense honed to a lethal edge. The helicopter's noise had long faded into the distance, leaving behind only the soft rustle of the wind through the tall grass and the distant hum of engines. Seth crouched low, blending into the shadows, his eyes locked on the figures moving near the vehicles at the edge of the field. Nero Valente was among them, issuing orders with the commanding presence of a man who had never known fear.

But tonight, that was going to change.

Seth's pulse was steady, his breathing controlled, every muscle in his body coiled and ready. He had done this countless times before—moving like a ghost through enemy territory, striking without warning, disappearing before his target even realized he was there. But tonight, the stakes were higher. He wasn't just here to take out Valente. In fact, if at all possible, he wanted Valente alive. Seth was here to finish the op, to end the threat that the Obsidian Cartel posed to countless innocent lives.

He'd promised Hope he would come back to her, and he intended to keep that promise. But first, there was work to be done.

Seth circled around the perimeter of the field, moving with the practiced ease of a predator stalking its prey. He counted six men in total, all armed, all focused on securing the area. They were professionals, well-trained and disciplined, but they weren't expecting him. They thought the helicopter had taken the threat away, leaving them free to carry out their orders without interference.

They were wrong.

Seth's first target was a man standing near the rear of one of the SUVs, his back turned as he scanned the area with a watchful eye. Seth moved in quickly, his footsteps silent on the soft earth. In one fluid motion, he drew his knife and slashed the man's throat, catching him before he could fall, lowering him gently to the ground. The man's eyes were wide with shock, his hands clawing weakly at his neck as the life drained out of him.

One down.

Seth wiped the blade on the man's jacket and moved on, his senses alert for any sign that the others had noticed. But the night was still; the only sounds were the distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves. He was a ghost, invisible and deadly.

The next man was standing near the front of another SUV, his attention focused on a conversation happening a few yards away. Seth slipped up behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat and cutting off his air supply with a swift, practiced motion. The man struggled briefly, his body jerking in Seth's grip, but he was no match for Seth's strength. Within seconds, he went limp, and Seth lowered him to the ground with the same care he had shown the first.

Two down.

The other four men were clustered together, discussing something in low voices. Valente stood in the center, his dark eyes scanning the area with the wariness of a man who knew he was never truly safe. Seth had to be careful now. One wrong move and the element of surprise would be lost.

Seth crept closer, his mind working quickly as he assessed the situation. He couldn't take them all out at once—not without risking detection. But if he could create a distraction, something to draw their attention away for just a moment…

His gaze landed on a stack of crates near one of the vehicles, and an idea began to form. Seth moved quickly, using the cover of darkness to his advantage. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small device—a remote-controlled explosive, small but powerful enough to cause a significant distraction.

Seth placed the device behind the crates, positioning it carefully before retreating to a safe distance. He waited, his finger hovering over the trigger, his eyes locked on the group of men.

Then, with a soft click, he activated the device.

The explosion was small, more of a loud pop than a blast, but it was enough. The crates went flying, and the men jerked in surprise, their attention immediately shifting to the source of the noise. Valente barked orders, sending two of the men to investigate.

Seth moved in.

He took down the first man with a swift, precise strike to the throat, the knife slicing through flesh and muscle with ease. The man's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't have time to react before Seth was on him, driving the blade deep into his heart.

Three down.

The second man turned just in time to see Seth coming, his eyes widening in fear. He reached for his weapon, but Seth was faster. He tackled the man to the ground, pinning him with one hand while the other drove the knife into his chest. The man let out a strangled gasp, his body convulsing briefly before going still.

Four down.

Valente was shouting now, his voice rising in panic as he realized what was happening. The two remaining men turned, their weapons raised, but they were too late. Seth was already moving, a blur of motion as he closed the distance between them.

He threw a knife at the closest man, the blade embedding itself in his throat with a sickening thud. The man dropped his weapon, his hands clawing at the knife as he fell to his knees, blood pouring from the wound.

Five down.

The last man fired his weapon, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating the night. Seth dodged to the side, feeling the bullet whiz past his ear. He was on the man in an instant, driving his elbow into his face with bone-crushing force. The man staggered back, dazed, and Seth followed up with a quick, brutal strike to the head, knocking him out cold.

Six down.

Valente was alone now, his eyes wide with fear as he realized he was surrounded by the bodies of his men. He turned to run, but Seth was faster. He tackled Valente to the ground, pinning him with a knee to the chest. The cartel leader struggled, his hands flailing as he tried to fight back, but Seth had the advantage. He grabbed Valente's arm, twisting it behind his back with enough force to make the man cry out in pain.

"Don't move," Seth growled, pressing the barrel of his gun to the back of Valente's head. "You try anything, and I'll put a bullet in your brain."

Valente froze, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he realized he was at Seth's mercy. Seth kept the gun trained on him as he reached into his pocket with his free hand, pulling out another of the syringes filled with a powerful tranquilizer. He jabbed the needle into Valente's neck, injecting the drug with a swift, practiced motion.

Within seconds, Valente's struggles weakened, his body going limp as the drug took effect. Seth waited until he was sure the cartel leader was unconscious before easing off, rolling Valente onto his back and checking his pulse. It was slow but steady—he would be out for hours.

Seth stood, surveying the carnage around him. The field was littered with bodies, the smell of blood and gunpowder heavy in the air. He knew he didn't have much time before reinforcements arrived. He had to move quickly.

He grabbed Valente by the arms and dragged him to the nearest SUV, his muscles straining with the effort. The vehicle had miraculously escaped the carnage, and Seth thanked whatever luck had kept it intact. He opened the rear door and bundled Valente inside, arranging his unconscious body in the cargo area. He grabbed a few crates and blankets from the back, using them to cover Valente's body, hiding any evidence that he was there.

Satisfied that Valente was secure, Seth climbed into the driver's seat, his mind already focused on the next step. He had to get off this field, had to find a place to regroup and figure out how to get Valente out of the country. Seth considered Baker Street, but only for a moment. The cartel would be watching them. As secure as it was, they wouldn't want to start an all-out street fight in the middle of London. That left only one sensible option—the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle, the fastest way to get from the UK to France without raising suspicion.

Seth started the engine, the SUV roaring to life. He drove off the field, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. The field was eerily quiet, the only sound was the rumble of the engine as he sped away from the scene of the carnage.

The SUV's tires crunched over the gravel as Seth guided the vehicle off the field and onto a narrow, dirt road that wound through the English countryside. His senses were still on high alert, every nerve attuned to the possibility of pursuit, but for now, the night was eerily quiet. The adrenaline that had surged through his veins during the confrontation with Valente and his men was beginning to ebb, leaving behind a cold clarity that sharpened his focus. He had one objective now: to get Valente out of the country and into Cerberus's hands before the cartel realized what had happened.

As the SUV bumped along the uneven road, Seth glanced at the rearview mirror, his eyes locking onto the still figure of Nero Valente outlined by the blankets, unconscious in the cargo area. The cartel leader's breathing was slow and steady; the tranquilizer Seth had administered, ensured that he wouldn't wake up anytime soon. But the clock was ticking. They needed to be across the Channel and en route to a safe location before Valente even had a chance to stir.

A flicker of movement caught Seth's eye, and he slowed the SUV as a small farmhouse came into view, nestled among a cluster of trees. It was dark, the windows boarded up, the roof sagging under the weight of neglect. Perfect. Isolated and abandoned, it was exactly the kind of place where he could regroup and make the necessary preparations for the next leg of the journey.

Seth turned into the overgrown driveway and parked the SUV out of sight behind the farmhouse. He killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the roar of the vehicle. For a moment, he sat there, his hands still gripping the steering wheel, his mind racing through the next steps. Everything had to go according to plan—there was no room for error.

He got out of the SUV, moving quickly around to the back. Opening the rear door, he checked on Valente, making sure the cartel leader was still out cold. The man's face was pale, his chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of deep sleep. Satisfied, Seth grabbed a small kit from the back seat, pulling out another syringe filled with a potent tranquilizer. He carefully injected the drug into Valente's arm, ensuring that he would remain unconscious for several more hours.

Once that was done, Seth began to rearrange the cargo area. He grabbed a few crates that were already in the SUV, stacking them around Valente's body to conceal him from view. He then rearranged the blanket over the crates, better hiding any evidence that there was a person underneath. Satisfied that from the outside, it looked like nothing more than a disorganized load of supplies—a perfect cover.

Seth stepped back, surveying his work with a critical eye. Satisfied that Valente was well hidden, he shut the rear door and walked back around to the driver's side. The next step was getting across the Channel without drawing attention, and for that, he would need to take the Eurotunnel Le Shuttle—a train service that transported vehicles from the UK to France via an undersea tunnel. It was the quickest and most discreet way to get to the continent, and from there, he could make the final arrangements for Valente's extraction.

Seth started the engine and drove back onto the road, keeping his speed steady and his eyes on the surroundings. The roads were empty at this hour, the countryside bathed in the pale light of the moon. He had to be careful—while the cartel might not yet realize that Valente was missing, it wouldn't take them long to figure it out. He needed to stay ahead of them, keep moving, and get Valente out of the country before they could mount a response.

It wasn't long before Seth reached the entrance to the Eurotunnel terminal. He paid the fare at the booth, maintaining a calm demeanor as the attendant handed him his ticket. There was no indication that anything was amiss—just another traveler making the late-night crossing. He pulled into the queue, waiting for his turn to board the train that would take him and the SUV across the Channel.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness as the cars ahead of him were loaded onto the train. Seth drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, his gaze flicking between the line of vehicles and the rearview mirror. Valente remained hidden, the crates and blanket obscuring any hint of the dangerous man lying unconscious in the back.

Finally, it was his turn. Seth cleared border control and drove the SUV onto the train, guiding it into one of the long, narrow carriages designed to hold vehicles during the crossing. The attendant directed him to park, and Seth complied, pulling the vehicle to a stop and shutting off the engine. The train car was dimly lit, the sound of metal clanging as the doors were secured echoing through the space. The journey would take about thirty-five minutes—just enough time for Seth to finalize the next phase of his plan.

Once the train was underway, Seth pulled out his phone and dialed the secure line to Cerberus. He kept his voice low as he spoke, not wanting to draw any attention to himself.

"This is Newcomb," he said, his tone clipped and professional. "I have Valente. We're en route to Calais via the Eurotunnel. I'll need extraction as soon as we arrive."

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, followed by the sound of rapid typing. "Copy that, Newcomb," the voice on the other end replied. "We're arranging for a pickup at a private airstrip outside Calais. Sawyer will meet you there with the necessary papers. ETA for extraction is ninety minutes."

"Understood," Seth replied. "I'll be there."

He ended the call and leaned back in his seat, his mind already calculating the next steps. He would need to be quick and efficient once they arrived in Calais—there would be no time to waste. The airstrip was only a short drive from the terminal, but every minute counted. Valente was a high-value target, and the longer they stayed in one place, the greater the risk.

As the train sped through the undersea tunnel, Seth allowed himself a brief moment of reflection. The op had been dangerous from the start, but it had become even more so after he'd made the decision to leave the helicopter and take Valente on his own. He knew Hope had been terrified for him, but he also knew she understood why he'd done it. There was no room for hesitation in their line of work—decisive action was often the difference between success and failure, between life and death.

And now, as he sat in the quiet of the train car, the enormity of what they had achieved began to sink in. They had infiltrated the heart of the Obsidian Cartel's operations, taken down some of their most dangerous men, and captured their leader. It was a major victory—one that would send shockwaves through the criminal underworld.

But the op wasn't over yet.

The train began to slow as it approached the terminal in Calais, the wheels screeching softly as they ground against the tracks. Seth straightened in his seat, his mind snapping back to the present. He needed to stay focused—there were still risks ahead, and he couldn't afford to let his guard down.

As the train came to a stop and the doors were opened, Seth started the engine and carefully drove the SUV off the train. The terminal was quiet at this late hour, with only a handful of vehicles making the crossing. He followed the signs directing him to the exit, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble.

The streets of Calais were nearly deserted as Seth navigated through the city, heading toward the airstrip on the outskirts. He kept his speed steady, blending in with the few other cars on the road. The cargo area was silent, the crates and blankets concealing Valente's unconscious form.

Finally, the lights of the airstrip came into view, a small beacon in the darkness. Seth slowed the SUV as he approached the gate, which was already open in anticipation of his arrival. A figure stood just inside the gate, illuminated by the headlights—Sawyer.

Seth pulled up next to him, rolling down the window as Sawyer approached. The Cerberus operative's face was set in a grim expression, his eyes sharp and focused.

"You made good time," Sawyer said, his voice low.

"Had to," Seth replied, cutting the engine. "He's in the back, sedated and hidden. Everything go smoothly on your end?"

Sawyer nodded. "We're clear for takeoff as soon as we load him up. The plane's waiting just down the strip." He handed Seth a small envelope. "Here are the forged papers. They'll get you back into the UK without raising any red flags. I'll handle Valente from here."

Seth took the envelope, his fingers brushing the edge of the papers inside. "You know where to take him?"

"Yeah," Sawyer said with a nod. "He'll be delivered to a facility that's a little less concerned about what interrogation techniques are used. We'll get what we need out of him."

Seth climbed out of the SUV, moving around to the back. He opened the rear door, revealing the carefully arranged crates and blankets. Together, he and Sawyer worked quickly, lifting the unconscious Valente out of the vehicle and onto a waiting gurney. The cartel leader's head lolled to the side, his body completely limp as the tranquilizer continued to do its work.

"Take care of him," Seth said, his voice carrying a warning note. "We've gone through too much to lose him now."

Sawyer gave a tight nod. "Don't worry, Seth. He's in good hands."

With Valente secured, Sawyer turned and began wheeling the gurney toward the small plane waiting on the tarmac. Seth watched him go, his mind already shifting to the next task. He needed to ditch the SUV and get back to Paris. From there, he could catch a flight back to London and regroup with Hope and the others.

He drove the SUV a short distance away from the airstrip, pulling off onto a small, deserted road. The vehicle had served its purpose, but it couldn't be traced back to him. He parked the SUV under a stand of trees, making sure it was well hidden from the road. After wiping down the interior to remove any traces of his presence, Seth stepped out, leaving the keys in the ignition.

He walked away without a backward glance, his steps quick and purposeful. The city wasn't far, and he would be able to catch a cab to the train station and then make his way to the Paris airport. His mind was already racing with thoughts of the debriefing that would come, the intel they would extract from Valente, and the next steps in dismantling the Obsidian Cartel.

But amid the professional detachment, there was one thought that kept pushing its way to the forefront: Hope. He had promised her he would return, and now that the immediate danger had passed, he felt the pull to get back to her as quickly as possible.

By the time he reached the airport and boarded a flight back to London, the sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. Seth settled into his seat, the exhaustion of the night's events finally catching up with him. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat as the plane took off, carrying him back across the Channel.

The op wasn't over, but for the first time in what felt like days, Seth allowed himself to relax, if only for a moment. They had done what they set out to do—Valente was in Cerberus's hands, and the Obsidian Cartel had taken a major hit. But as the plane flew through the clouds, Seth's thoughts were already on the next steps, on the challenges still ahead.

And on the woman who waited for him in London.