Her Forever SEAL (Midnight Delta #12)

Prologue

The Americans moved like shadows.

Ibrahim had heard this said about men like these. He had filed it away as the kind of thing men said to make their enemies sound more powerful than mere mortals. Standing in the dark at the edge of the compound, watching them work, he understood it was simply the truth.

There were six of them. They moved without speaking, without hesitation, clearing each room in a sequence that felt almost choreographed. It took four minutes. He counted. Four minutes, and then they had Kofi.

His brother did not fight. Ibrahim had expected him to fight.

Kofi was many things, reckless, loud, certain of his own righteousness, but he was not a coward.

What he was, in the grip of these men, was simply outmatched.

He understood it the same moment Ibrahim did.

You could see the realization move across his face, even in the dark, even at this distance.

One of the Americans spoke into a radio. Low and clipped. Ibrahim could not hear the words.

He thought about running, but he didn't. Instead, he stood where he was and watched.

They took Kofi out through the eastern perimeter. Ibrahim lost sight of them as they moved around the far side of the building, into the dark beyond the compound wall. He shifted, trying to keep them in view, but the angle was wrong and the night was thick and there was nothing to see.

Was that muffled sound a shot?

The Americans came back through the eastern perimeter two minutes later. Six of them. Moving the same way they had gone in, clean, controlled, purposeful.

Without Kofi.

Ibrahim stood very still. He told himself there was an explanation. That they had handed his brother off to another unit. That there was a vehicle he hadn't seen. That Kofi was already gone, already being taken somewhere, already beyond his sight but still alive.

He waited until the Americans were gone and the night was quiet and then he moved.

He found Kofi on the far side of the building, in the narrow passage between the compound wall and the old generator shed where nobody ever went.

He was on his back. His eyes were open. He looked almost peaceful, which was the most wrong thing about it, because Kofi had never been peaceful a day in his life.

Ibrahim knelt beside him. He did not say anything. There was nothing to say.

He stayed there a long time, his brother's hand in his, while the night moved around him and the compound stayed silent and empty and the men who had done this were already gone, already untouchable, already across an ocean he didn't yet know how to cross.

He was twenty-three years old.

He did not mourn, and that surprised him. He loved his brother dearly. Kofi was all that was left of their family. They were more than brothers, they were partners, they'd had plans. Now he was alone.

He set his brother's hand down carefully. He stood.

He looked in the direction the Americans had gone.

Six men. Moving like shadows. Four minutes.

Now he had a new plan. He began, in that moment, to think about what it would take. Not tomorrow. Not soon. He had time, and patience, and the specific clarity of a man who had just been given a purpose that would last the rest of his life.

He turned and walked back into the dark.