Prologue
The heat bore down on Noah as he peered through his binoculars.
The warehouse was eerily quiet. His team had it surrounded, waiting for the right opportunity to move in.
His commander had been given information that several of the military’s missing air missiles were being stored at this location, making his gut churn with unease.
Something wasn’t sitting right with him about this mission.
“Hughes, do you have eyes on any of the targets?” he muttered into his comm unit, hopeful someone had seen movement from somewhere inside.
“No. It’s like the place is empty. I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, I don’t like this at all. Brady, you got anything?”
“Nope. Silent on this side, too.”
Noah took a deep breath and counted to ten. He was going to have to make a call on whether they should move forward with the mission. If the guns were in there, they needed to be recovered. His only issue was there was supposed to be cartel inside, and so far, there was no one.
“What do you want to do, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know. Intelligence is sure there are weapons inside, right?”
“Yes. Positive.”
Noah knew the intelligence officer was good at her job, but what if she had gotten it wrong? What if this was the one time her data was fucked up? His life and the lives of his men would be put in jeopardy. He scanned the property again.
“If there are guns in there, we need to get them. Get ready to move in. We do this fast—got it?”
Each man replied, ready to follow him inside.
Noah trusted each of them with his life, and they trusted him with theirs.
He and his team had been together for nearly seven years.
They were more like a family than co-workers.
Noah eased himself off the ground and crouched behind an abandoned car.
After confirming the coordinates with the intelligence team listening in on their comms, he nodded toward Perez and Bayote, signaling them to get ready.
After giving the order, the two teams slowly made their way to the metal building.
Noah, Perez, and Bayote paused outside the entry, waiting for the other team’s signal. They always divided into two teams, providing coverage on all sides of a mission. Noah listened, concerned the other team hadn’t given them an all clear.
“Foxtrot, do you copy?” he called out, expecting someone from the team would respond. To his horror, a mic keyed up just as gunfire erupted inside. “Fuck! Move in,” he barked to the two men waiting with him.
As soon as they breached the doorway, he knew what had happened.
They had walked into a trap. There must have been a dozen cartel members lying in wait for them inside.
Noah glanced at his men, returning fire.
Each one had been pinned down by gunfire.
From what he could see, two of his teammates had lost their lives already.
Noah barked out the mayday into his comm unit, requesting air support.
Not only had they walked into an ambush, but there wasn’t a single weapon to be found inside.
Noah watched in horror as Petty Officer Bayote fell to his death.
One of the cartel members had shot him in the face, ending his life instantly.
“Perez,” Noah screamed at his teammate.
They had to get out if they were going to live.
He watched in utter terror as a grenade was hurdled toward them.
Perez jumped toward Noah, taking him to the ground just as the device exploded beside them.
Noah winced in pain as his breath caught in his chest when he tried breathing in.
Perez was unconscious on top of him, his body heavy against him.
Noah blinked through the smoke and haze, trying to gather his wits.
If they were going to survive, he needed to get them out of there.
He rolled Perez off him, realizing that his left leg had been blown off in the explosion.
Noah forced himself to his feet, only to realize his left arm was hanging limp at his side.
Noah tugged off his belt with his right arm and applied a makeshift tourniquet to the appendage, using his teeth and body weight to pull it tight.
The last thing he wanted was for Perez to bleed out.
The sound of air support had Noah moving faster.
The gun fire had slowly eased off, giving him the opportunity to drag his body from the tattered remains of the structure.
As Noah breached the damaged opening, sunlight beamed down around him.
Chaos was consuming the entire place. His eyes blurred as he watched the building crumble in on itself, trapping the rest of his team inside.
Noah pushed the pain of injuries down as he checked over his friend’s vitals.
Perez was barely hanging on—his pulse faint and thready.
“Hang on, Perez. Don’t you die on me.”
Noah continued applying pressure to his thigh, knowing it was futile. Perez’s entire leg from the knee down was gone. Noah’s head burned with exhaustion as he searched their surroundings for someone who could help. It was then he realized the sea of camouflage making their way towards him.
“Captain Murphy.” A stranger’s face was peering into his. “We got your friend. Now you need to let us help you.”
“I don’t need your help. Can’t you see Perez’s fucking leg is gone?”
“Yes. We’re going to take care of him. But you’re hurt too.
” The stranger dressed like him pushed him to the ground and pressed his hands into Noah’s hip.
Pain like nothing he had ever felt coursed through his body.
“You’re seconds away from bleeding out yourself.
It’s pretty fucking amazing you dragged him out, considering your leg is a mangled mess. ”
Noah tried to look, but the exhaustion and pain were too much. He gritted his teeth and winced as they lifted him onto a backboard. “My men…” he mumbled as he looked toward the hollowed-out frame of the warehouse. “Are they all dead?”
The medic looked at him and then towards the wreckage. “It’s a miracle anyone survived. Your team was ambushed, Captain. Y’all stood no chance.”
Noah squeezed his eyelids shut, forcing the tears at bay.
He couldn’t show weakness in front of a soldier, even if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.
Brady, Christian, Hughes, Bayote, and Prince—all gone in under thirty minutes.
How did this happen? Their intel had been good until it wasn’t.
Noah winced as the medic shoved an IV into his arm.
He held his breath as they tightened something around his arm, forcing his shoulder back into place. It had been dislocated in the blast.
“I’m giving you something for pain. We’ll be back in the states and at the hospital in no time.”
Noah watched as the smoke faded into the blue skyline.
His eyes grew heavy, almost as heavy as his heart felt knowing his men were dead.
They say this is part of being a SEAL—the loss.
But Noah knew his men didn’t deserve their deaths.
Someone provided fucked up information, and he was going to make sure they paid.
He owed it to his team. Hell, he owed it to himself.