Chapter Twelve #2
The hostage groaned, hand twitching. Then, with deliberate effort, he pushed his right hand out to the side. His index and middle fingers extended, pressed tight together, and he jerked them twice to the right. Slowly, painfully, he curled his hand into a fist and shook it once more to the right.
Niko cried out. “Fuck, it is him!” He stepped forward, voice ragged. “It’s Ghost.”
“Niko! Fucking hold there!” Surge roared, and it was a sign of the respect Kael had that despite his obvious distress at wanting to get to Ghost, Niko stopped.
Kai’s chest tightened. Ghost. Alive. Battered, bleeding, but alive. And now bait. His gut flipped cold. “Put him on the ground and walk away from him, and I will come over to you.” He forced a grin and looked straight at Hogan as he started to move slowly toward Carter. “You better come get me.”
“Put the man down,” Carter yelled, and with reluctance Antonov nodded his head.
They placed Ghost on the ground and stepped back.
As soon as there was space, Niko and Tane ran in and dropped down to their knees.
Tane in the classic cover position, rifle to his shoulder, and Niko with both hands wrapped around the wounds on Ghost’s leg.
That man screamed at the pressure, Nicko apologizing over and over and telling him to stay with him, that he’ll take care of everything, to trust him.
Kai could see his brother really felt something for Ghost.
Hogan’s face twisted into fury, eyes blazing as he jerked forward a step, rifle locked dead on Carter. His voice dropped into a lethal growl, hard enough to rattle bone. “Don’t fucking do this, Kai, I can’t survive losing you twice.”
Kai smiled at him as he walked backwards towards Carter, hands out at his side. “I told you our code, baby.”
“Fuck the damn code!” Surge growled as he surged beside Hogan, spitting curses that echoed off the concrete, his body straining like a leash-torn dog as his teammates shoved in fast, hands gripping arms and shoulders, holding both men back before the lot dissolved into a full shootout.
The Bratya shouted threats in broken English, weapons clattering as safeties clicked off. Every breath came sharp, every trigger finger trembling on a hairline edge. Steel nerves straining, the night hung balanced on the knife of a single wrong move.
Kai stepped toward Carter, chin lifted. The agent’s smirk spread, obscene with satisfaction. “Two years, Kealoha. Two fucking years I’ve been hiding right under your nose. You never saw me coming. You never even sniffed my trail.”
Kai tilted his head, gave him a slow smile sharp as broken glass. “Or maybe you were too pathetic to be worth the hunt.”
The blow came fast—Carter’s fist cracking across his jaw.
Kai rocked but kept his feet, spit blood to the side with deliberate contempt.
Hogan roared, thrashing against the hands holding him back, curses ripped raw from his throat.
“You’re dead, Carter! You fucking hear me?
I’ll take you apart slow, piece by fucking piece! ”
Carter only chuckled, savoring the fury.
Rough hands seized Kai’s arms, metal cuffs biting cold against his wrists, and the Bratya dragged him backward.
He was marched toward the waiting SUV, Hogan’s voice still ripping through the night, promising fire and death as Kai was shoved into the dark maw of the vehicle.
“Kai!” Hogan’s voice cracked like a whip across the chaos, raw and desperate. “Stay alive! Don’t you fucking do anything stupid. I’m coming for you!”
The words hit Kai like a brand. He clung to them, even as the doors of the SUV closed him in with Carter and three of his men. The kill box closed, and Kai felt the storm breaking, knew the night was about to bleed.
****
The moment the SUV swallowed Kai and drove out of the car park, Hogan’s pulse roared like thunder in his ears. He wanted to charge the line, put bullets in every Bratya bastard that stood between him and Kai.
“Let’s move—blast our way out!” Hogan barked, rifle already shouldered.
“Pull your head in,” Bateman snapped back, his tone iron. “That’ll get us all killed. We need to think, not bleed out on the asphalt.”
Hogan growled, pacing like a caged animal. Every muscle in his body screamed to act, but Bateman’s stare was granite, unflinching.
Dev muttered into the comms, voice hot with frustration. “We’re boxed in and lit up like the fourth of July. We hit them blind, we might take some with us, but we’re corpses.”
Then Luca’s calm, clinical voice cut across the channel. “Twenty men—four to the east, six to the west, five north, five south. Got them on camera feeds. They’re sloppy and nervous, but Dev’s right, they’ve got us cold.”
“Twenty,” Hogan repeated, jaw locked. He could taste the violence like copper on his tongue.
Bateman tilted his chin toward the Bratya circling them.
His voice carried, hard enough for their leader to hear.
“You came here thinking you’d win, but you’ve just signed your death warrants.
The Grim Reaper already has your names, assholes—he’s just waiting around for us to send your sorry asses to him. ”
The Bratya leader sneered, weapon raised. “Big words and empty threats of men who stand surrounded.”
Then a new voice slid into the comms, cool as death itself. “Did someone call the Reaper?”
Every Pathfinder froze for half a heartbeat. Hogan’s chest loosened at the sound. Glenn Webster. Call sign Reaper. Where he was, Maddox was never far behind.
Almost on cue, Maddox’s gravelly baritone cut in. “Spotter’s in place. We’ve got eyes on all of them, targets acquired.”
And then another voice, steady and deep—Marcel. “Anybody request a Sniper Team Bravo escort out of this mess?”
Dev grinned, lowering his weapon slightly. He turned in a slow circle, arms out wide, grin savage under the floodlights. “Gentlemen, looks like it’s time to die.”
The Bratya laughed at him, jeering. Then the first crack split the night—a skull snapping back clean. Another shot dropped a second man before he could even flinch a split second later. Bravo’s rhythm was brutal efficiency. Each man had his marks and took them without hesitation.
The entire exchange was over in seconds. The Bratya barely had time to raise their rifles before they were cut down. No chaos, no scrambling, just bodies hitting concrete. The smoke hung heavy, sharp with cordite and blood, silence swallowing the night whole.
The Pathfinders and Black Tide all exchanged relieved and impressed looks. Relieved that this was over, and impressed at the speed in which this group took out twenty men.
“Surge!” Niko called out, “we have to get Ethan to a hospital, now!”
“Luka!” Surge roared.
“Coming in!” Luca called over comms, and they heard the quickly accelerating comms van speed into the car park. In seconds Niko and Tane had Ghost loaded into the van, then Tane jumped out, slamming the door behind him, and it left with a squeal of tires.
From the smoke and shadows at the edge of the lot, figures began to emerge from each direction.
Bravo walked out of the dark like avenging spirits, rifles still at the ready, grins carved into their faces.
Dev did a mock bow, his voice carrying. “Boys, meet the cavalry. Sam and his partners Aiden and Nick, then next to them we have Riley and his husband Marcel, and these two bastards are the best Sniper and Spotter team in existence, Glenn AKA Reaper, and his husband Maddox. Black Tide, I give you, Sniper Team Bravo.”
Nods of acknowledgment and thanks were exchanged, sharp and wordless, the kind of respect only forged in fire.
Bateman stepped forward, eyes narrowing. “What the hell are you all doing here?”
Marcel grinned. “Ghost flew us in after he brought the survivors from the mansion requiring therapy to the Ridge. He figured something big was coming down here and you’d need manpower. And to be honest, we didn’t want to miss the party. Comms were compromised, so we kept it on the down low.”
Dev laughed, clapping his hands once. “Fine by me. I got to drop the ‘time to die’ line and it was epic.”
The tension broke slightly, enough for Hogan to start walking, jaw tight, steps quick, Surge right behind him. Bateman intercepted him. “We’re all going for your man, Hogan.”
“I know,” Hogan growled, “but I can’t stand here another damn second. Let’s move.”
Luca’s voice came over the comms, calm and precise. “I’ve got him, pinned him before I left. The SUV stopped. I’ve messaged the location to your phones. You can be at their site in ten minutes. I will meet you there”
“Bullshit, we’ll be there in five,” Hogan snapped. He chambered a round, eyes burning. “We’re leaving now.”
Kai was still out there, cuffed in that SUV, but the odds had just shifted. And for the first time tonight, Hogan believed they might just drag him back alive.