34. Rook
ROOK
The warehouse exploded into motion.
No debates.
No arguments.
No planning session that lasted until sunrise.
The clock had run out.
Gear cases slammed onto tables.
Weapons were checked.
Magazines loaded.
Maps folded.
Operators moved with the controlled urgency of men who understood exactly what failure would cost.
I stepped out of the operations room.
The mountain still glowed on the monitor behind me.
Black Site Theta.
Wade’s prison.
Or his grave.
Everything depended on how fast we moved.
“Thirty minutes.”
The warehouse froze.
Every head turned toward me.
“We leave in thirty.”
The room erupted again.
Chairs scraped backward.
Equipment disappeared into packs.
Helmets were grabbed.
Body armor fastened.
The rescue had begun.
Sarah entered from the far side of the warehouse.
No one missed her.
Tactical vest.
Rifle.
Sidearm.
Combat boots.
Two knives strapped where she could reach them.
She wasn’t trying to look ready.
She was ready.
Her father lifted his head from the map.
His expression changed immediately.
“No.”
Sarah continued toward the weapons table.
“What do you mean, no?”
“You’re not going.”
Several operators suddenly became fascinated with their equipment.
Sarah stopped beside the table, checked a magazine, and slid it into her vest.
Calm.
Unbothered.
“Wade is my brother.”
Her father folded his arms.
“Sarah.”
“No.”
She shoved a knife into the sheath inside her boot.
Her voice wasn’t angry.
It was tired.
Five years tired.
The kind of exhaustion that settled inside the bones.
“I searched for him for five years.”
The warehouse slowly grew quiet.
“I buried an empty coffin.”
Her voice cracked.
Barely.
But everyone heard it.
“I stood beside a grave while people told me he was dead. I watched Mom fall apart. I watched you disappear for months at a time because you couldn’t stop searching.”
Her father’s face tightened.
“You don’t get to use that against me.”
“I’m not.”
Sarah picked up her rifle.
“I’m reminding you that I survived it too.”
No one spoke.
Her father stared at her.
Pain, fear, and pride fought across his face.
Sarah slammed the magazine into place.
The metallic click echoed through the warehouse.
“Now I know Wade is alive. You think I’m going to sit here while everyone else brings him home?”
Her father opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
He knew.
Every person in the room knew.
Nothing on earth was keeping Sarah away from that mountain.
Sam Cutter laughed from the doorway.
The sound startled everyone.
Sarah’s father looked at him.
“What?”
Sam shook his head.
“She sounds exactly like you.”
Several men immediately grinned.
The old SEAL looked horrified.
“That isn’t funny.”
“It absolutely is.”
“It isn’t.”
Sam pointed toward Sarah.
“She already made up her mind.”
“Hours ago,” Sarah confirmed.
Her father glared at Sam.
“You’re not helping.”
“I’m not trying to.”
I stepped forward.
The warehouse quieted.
My eyes settled on Sarah.
I wasn’t questioning whether she could handle herself. I had already seen her fight.
I needed to know whether she would follow orders once bullets started flying.
That was a different question.
“You stay with me.”
Sarah blinked.
So did everyone else.
Her father turned sharply.
“Rook—”
I raised one hand without looking away from her.
“You don’t go after Reeves alone.”
Her expression hardened at the name.
“You don’t disappear. You don’t break formation because you think you see Wade.”
She said nothing.
“If I tell you to fall back, you fall back. If I tell you to move, you move.”
My voice lowered.
“And if I tell you I’m going through a door first, you let me.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because I’m wearing more armor.”
Cobra coughed into his fist, hiding a laugh.
Sarah continued studying me.
“Fine.”
Sniper barked a laugh.
“That wasn’t a yes.”
“It was close enough,” she said.
“No,” I answered. “It wasn’t.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I waited.
Around us, the warehouse remained silent.
Finally, Sarah released a breath.
“Yes, Commander.”
“Good.”
Her father looked between us.
“I don’t like this.”
Sarah reached for another magazine.
“You weren’t going to like anything except tying me to a chair.”
“I considered it.”
“I know where you sleep.”
Sam grinned.
“Definitely your daughter.”
Twenty-eight minutes later
The cargo aircraft roared down the frozen Alaskan runway.
Snow whipped across the tarmac as the transport climbed into the night.
Inside, Shadow Division sat strapped into web seats along the fuselage.
Rifles rested between boots.
Equipment cases were secured to the deck.
The team had gone quiet.
Not relaxed.
Focused.
We were traveling under a flight plan arranged through one of Sam’s old contacts, a man who asked no questions as long as the cargo didn’t threaten his crew.
Our route would take us across the Pacific, through two refueling stops, and into a remote forward airstrip near the mountains of northern Pakistan.
From there, helicopters would carry us toward Black Site Theta.
It wasn’t a clean plan.
It was the only one we had.
Thousands of miles away, Wade Parker was running out of time.
Sarah sat across from me.
For most of the flight, she didn’t speak.
Her rifle rested against her leg, but her mind was somewhere else.
I saw it in her eyes.
She was remembering.
Wade teaching her to ride a bicycle.
Wade carrying her home after she fell from a horse.
Wade sneaking candy to her when their father wasn’t looking.
Wade laughing.
Always laughing.
The memories hurt because she had spent five years believing they were all she had left.
Her father sat a few feet away, pretending to study the mission file.
He looked at Sarah when he thought she wouldn’t notice.
She looked at him when she thought the same.
Neither knew what to say.
Hope had brought them back together.
Fear was keeping them apart.
I understood that look.
I had seen it in mirrors.
It was the expression of someone carrying hope and terror at the same time.
Hope that Wade was alive.
Fear that we would reach him too late.
The combination could destroy a person.
Or make them dangerous.
Sarah had chosen dangerous.
Twenty-one hours later
The transport landed on a remote runway surrounded by dark, unforgiving mountains.
The airfield consisted of a weathered hangar, two fuel trucks, and a row of portable lights marking the strip.
Two unmarked helicopters waited beside the hangar.
Their rotors were already turning.
No one wasted time.
We transferred equipment, checked weapons again, and boarded.
Fathom took the seat nearest the open communications console. His portable systems were connected to the aircraft’s encrypted antenna before we left the ground.
Sam remained in Alaska, running remote coordination from the warehouse and watching the intelligence feeds Fathom sent back.
The helicopters lifted into the darkness.
Mountain peaks rose around us.
The pilot flew low, using the terrain to hide our approach from radar.
Inside the cabin, red lights washed over weapons and faces.
Fathom stared at his screen.
Thermal scans updated in real time whenever we received a satellite pass.
I watched the clock.
Less than three hours until the reported transport departure.
Too close.
But still possible.
Then Fathom went rigid.
“Rook.”
Every head turned.
There was something in his voice I had never heard before.
Panic.
I grabbed the overhead strap and leaned toward him.
“What?”
He enlarged the latest thermal image.
Heat signatures were moving inside the mountain.
Vehicles.
Men.
A lot of both.
“They changed the schedule.”
Sarah leaned forward. “What does that mean?”
Fathom checked the timestamp.
“The prisoner transports are already loading.”
The helicopter went silent.
“How long?” I asked.
His fingers raced across the keyboard.
“If they follow the eastern route, they’ll clear the facility in less than two hours.”
Sarah’s face lost all color.
Wade.
His team.
The transfer.
The execution waiting at the end of the road.
We weren’t racing a clock anymore.
We were racing a convoy.
I looked through the open side of the helicopter.
The outline of the mountain waited in the darkness.
Somewhere beneath it, Wade Parker and his men were preparing to die fighting.
I keyed my radio.
“Pilot.”
“Go ahead.”
“How much faster can this thing fly?”
A short pause followed.
“Depends how much you enjoy living.”
“Not as much as I enjoy winning.”
The pilot banked hard between two peaks.
The engines screamed.
Sarah tightened her grip on her rifle.
I looked around the helicopter at Shadow Division.
“Listen up. The mission has changed.”
Every eye locked on me.
“We’re not quietly infiltrating an underground facility anymore.”
Cobra’s grin appeared.
“What are we doing?”
I chambered a round.
“We’re stopping an execution.”
The helicopter tore through the darkness.
And beneath the mountain, the clock continued to run.