CHAPTER SIX
Ace stood with the team. They were about a half mile from the compound.
The winds whipped through the land as the snow fell around them, limiting visibility to a few feet ahead, turning the world into a swirl of white, gray, and biting gusts that felt like shards of glass against any exposed skin.
Ace tugged his mask tighter as the icy air seeped through even the smallest gaps. He gathered his team close as they huddled around him.
Ace’s voice was low but steady and commanding as he went over the plan one last time. “Let’s fan out from here. Once everyone is in position, we will move forward with my order. Irish, you and Skittles are our eyes on the outside perimeter. Call it out if you see any movement we’re not ready for.”
The team nodded in unison, their eyes sharp and focused despite the bitter weather. Each man knew his role, but they all understood the stakes.
“Move quickly, stay low,” Ace continued, his gaze steady on each of them. “Our job is to catch them off guard and end this before they even realize what’s happening.”
“Let’s do this,” Potter said, his voice steeled with confidence.
As the group disbursed and the teams all went their separate ways, Ace crouched low, his breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins like fire. The snow crunched beneath his boots with every careful step as he, Stitch, and Deigo crept through the frozen land. The north side of the compound was now visible in the distance.
Besides their white cold weather clothing and gear, the biting wind and snowfall helped conceal their presence.
He glanced at his watch. It was thirteen minutes until midnight. His grip on his rifle tightened as he motioned for Stitch and Diego to halt. Potter, Dino, and Frost signaled from their position near the front of the compound. Up on a hill to the northwest, Irish and Skittles maintained overwatch, their sniper rifles trained on the building.
“Positions,” Ace whispered into the comm.
A chorus of quiet confirmations followed, the calm professionalism of his team steadying the edge in his nerves. His heart pounded as his eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for anything out of place. The Russian compound was deceptively unassuming, nestled against the rocky terrain. But Ace knew better. The place was a death trap.
“Stitch, C-4 ready?” he murmured.
“Affirmative,” Stitch replied, his hands deftly setting the charge against the heavy metal backdoor.
Across the comm, Potter’s voice chimed in. “Front’s rigged.”
Ace rechecked his watch. One minute to go. “Standby.”
The seconds ticked by, each one dragging on for what felt like an eternity. The countdown reached its end, and Ace gave the signal.
“Execute.”
Twin explosions ripped through the cold night air, shattering the eerie silence. The doors blew inward, sending shrapnel flying as the teams surged forward.
“Move, move, move!” Ace barked. His voice was sharp as they stormed the building.
Inside, the layout was a labyrinth of narrow hallways and dim lighting. The initial sweep was met with gunfire as Russians poured out of hidden rooms, shouting commands in their native tongue. Ace pressed himself against the wall as bullets ricocheted around him.
“Multiple contacts!” Stitch called out, dropping one assailant with a precise shot.
“Keep pushing!” Ace ordered.
The team moved methodically, their training taking over. Potter’s group breached the front of the building, eliminating threats as they advanced toward the central corridor. Ace’s team cleared the rear, their movements synchronized and efficient despite the chaos.
Ace’s voice came steady through the comm. “Diego, cover left. Stitch, on me.”
“Got it,” Diego replied, his rifle spitting out a volley of fire that dropped two Russians trying to flank them.
The fight was brutal and chaotic. Bullets sliced through the air, ricocheting off metal beams and walls. Ace ducked behind a stack of crates, returning fire as he took quick stock of his team. Potter was laying down cover fire from behind a forklift, his movements precise and practiced, while Stitch held off two men on the far side of the room, his weapon steady despite the heavy return fire.
Dino was covering their six, eyes sharp as he picked off two men attempting to circle around them. “Clear on the rear!” he called, his voice barely cutting through the gunfire.
Ace darted forward, using the brief lull to advance deeper into the warehouse. He spotted Sokolov and three of his men scrambling toward a back exit and gestured to Irish, who nodded and broke into a sprint, closing the distance. Just as he reached the doorway, an enemy rounded the corner, aiming straight at him.
Ace’s heart lurched, but Frost was quicker. A single shot from his sniper rifle rang out, and the threat dropped, lifeless, to the ground. “Clear,” Frost’s voice crackled over the comms, cool as ever.
The fight raged on, each team member moving with precision honed from years of working together, anticipating each other’s moves.
Ace took out two men coming up from the left, his mind and body on autopilot as he dodged and weaved, instincts firing faster than thought.
Skittles threw a flashbang across the room, disorienting two of Sokolov’s men long enough for Diego to slip in and take them down.
But the enemy fought with ferocity, forcing the team to adapt with each step. More of Sokolov’s men seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Ace nearly took a hit when one of them fired from a dark corner. He rolled, returning fire and catching the man’s leg, and Stitch followed up with a quick, clean shot to finish the job.
Ace felt the weight of the mission pressing down on him. His mind raced as room after room was cleared, but there was no sign of Kirill. Frustration began to creep in, mixing with the adrenaline.
“Where the hell is he?” he muttered, scanning the walls for hidden doors or passageways.
Just then, movement caught his eye, a shadow darting toward the far end of the hallway. Ace’s instincts kicked in.
“Got a runner!” he called, breaking into a sprint.
The hidden door opened just as Ace reached it, and without hesitation, he followed. The icy night air hit him as he stepped outside, only to feel the cold steel of a pistol pressed to the side of his head.
“Drop it,” a low, heavy Russian-accented voice ordered.
Ace froze, his rifle slipping from his hands and hanging loosely from his body. His jaw clenched as he turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of Kirill Sokolov out of the corner of his eye. The Russian’s face was twisted into a smug grin. His pistol was pressed firmly against Ace’s temple.
Kirill laughed, the sound sharp and mocking against the night. “Well, well. The great Navy SEAL has been brought to his knees. Did the mouse think that he could hunt the cat?”
Ace’s muscles tensed, his mind racing for a way out. He had multiple weapons at his disposal that sat just inches away, but it might as well have been a mile. Kirill’s finger hovered over the trigger, and Ace knew this could be it.
Time seemed to stop.
Alex.
His thoughts were filled with images of her and their unborn child. Her smile flickered in his mind, the way her hand rested protectively over her belly. A lump formed in his throat as he braced himself for the inevitable. This is it. This is how it ends. I’m sorry, Alex.
But then, something primal surged within him. A voice, deep and guttural, screamed at him to fight. He couldn’t give up—not when his family was waiting for him. Ace’s hand inched toward his thigh, where his combat knife was sheathed.
The Russian barked an order in his native tongue, pressing the pistol harder against Ace’s skull.
Not today, Ace thought. His muscles were coiled and ready to spring.
Just as Ace was about to make his move, Irish’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Ace. Tilt your head an inch to your left.”
The calm certainty in Irish’s voice was all Ace needed. He didn’t hesitate, moving his head ever so slightly.
The sound of the shot was deafening, even in the open air.
Before he could act, the Russian’s head snapped backward. A crimson mist filled the air as a bullet tore through his skull. Kirill’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Ace blinked, his heart hammering as the realization hit him.
Ace exhaled a shaky breath, his chest heaving as he grabbed his rifle and got to his feet.
“Hell of a shot, Irish.”
Irish’s voice came through the comm, and there was a hint of a grin in his tone. “You’re welcome, brother. Thought I’d save your pretty face.”
Ace allowed himself a small, relieved chuckle before snapping back into mission mode. “SITREP,” Ace barked into the comm.
“Building is clear. All enemy combatants have been neutralized.”
Ace felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.
“Regroup on the east side of the building.”
As Ace met up with the team, he was still breathing hard, and his muscles burned from the intensity of the fight. The air around them was silent, save for the low, labored breaths of the team.
Victory hung in the air, though the adrenaline still buzzed through their systems.
Ace scanned each of his teammates, assessing their condition. A few were a little banged up, but what mattered the most was everyone was alive.
Potter limped over to him, his face smeared with dirt and sweat. He clapped Ace on the shoulder, his grin tired but triumphant.
“What do you say we get the hell out of here and head home to celebrate Christmas with our families,” Potter said with a hint of humor in his voice.
Ace let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension easing from his shoulders as he looked around at his men. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, allowing a rare smile to break through. “Let’s pack it up, boys. We’ve got a flight to catch.”
As they trekked back to the extraction point, Ace glanced up at the night sky. His thoughts drifted back to Alex, and for the first time that night, he let himself smile.
As they turned to leave, trudging through the snow, Ace felt the surge of relief and determination that came with knowing he was one step closer to being back home, right where he needed to be.
Two hours later, and feeling like Frosty the fucking Snowman, Ace and the team approached the extraction point.
His breath puffed out in clouds, mingling with the sharp Arctic wind. The helicopter’s thundering rotors came into view, a welcome sight after the chaos they had just survived.
The operation had been a success, but it had been close. Too close.
He still couldn’t shake the thought of how close he came to dying.
It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind in his years as a SEAL, but this time felt different. This time, Alex’s face flashed in his mind, her hand resting on her pregnant belly, her soft laugh as she teased him about putting the crib together wrong. He thought about their baby—he hadn’t even met them yet.
What if I never got to?
The thought twisted in his chest like a blade. He’d always accepted the risks of his job, but now there was more on the line.
“Keep it together,” he muttered to himself as they approached the waiting helicopter.
Potter clapped him on the shoulder as they climbed aboard. “We made it, brother. Let’s go home.”
Ace forced a nod, sliding into his seat and securing his gear. The helicopter lifted off, the roar of the rotors drowning out everything else for a moment. As the ground receded into the snowy horizon, Ace closed his eyes, resting his head against the cold metal wall.
All he wanted was to get home to Alex and wrap her up in his arms.