Chapter 19 Alex
ALEX
Two days after infil, we sat in the hidey-hole, the one we’d been told we couldn’t use to do the exact thing we were doing that we were also told we couldn’t do—wait for the fucker command demanded we scoop up to show his damn face.
The mission—the words should you choose to accept it popped in my head every time a sentence started with the words ‘the mission’—had been to infil, kick in the target’s door, grab the fucker, and hightail our asses, all of us, target included, to the exfil point.
That had been the plan. But plans changed, especially after first contact with the enemy, or not, since we’d seen the motherfucker. He disappeared during our helo in. Instead of turning us around until he surfaced, command ordered us to Charlie Mike and wait him out.
Forty-eight hours with a group of pissed off team guys, stuck waiting for some random guy with, if Daniel had the right of it, held very little intel, and what made the situation worse, planned time on target had us running light, and that meant limited provisions…
“I’m fucking starving,” Josh said.
Case in point. Of course, he was hungry. He never brought enough provisions, and he ate as if we camped out with a personal chef. All that led to where we were, stuck, and let’s be freaking for real, this wasn’t the first time we got sent out and told to fucking sit and spin.
“Josh, shut the hell up,” Parker said. “It’s your own fault, and it’s not like we’ve even been here that long.”
Longer than I wanted to be. Of course, what I got dragged away from was a metric fuckton better than what we were dealing with right now, which was a helluva lot of nothing.
At least if we were back at base, I could sneak a blowjob.
What I really needed was a good, hard fuck, but who knew when I’d get the opportunity.
“Focus up. We got movement,” Jason, Echo Eight, called out.
We weren’t that lucky.
“You’ve said that how many times?” Chris Houser, Echo Seven, said, echoing my thoughts.
“It’s him,” Jason demanded.
Marcus groaned. “Jesus, y’all act like we’ve not done these fucking logs before. You’d better document that shit right.”
Josh sighed, then said, “Movement noted on target. What appears to be…”
“Fuck, he’s really on the move, we gotta go,” Jason yelled.
“Quit acting like you’re a barely baked sugar cookie. Alex is the new guy; if anyone was going to lose their marbles when shit went sideways, it should be him,” Parker barked at Jason and Josh.
I laughed at them; we all did. Sometimes I think they acted ridiculously to lighten the darkness that loomed overhead. Either way, they’d been SEALs for ages; they knew how this fucking worked, but every damn time the danger switch got flipped, Parker reminded them they weren’t fresh out of BUD/S.
Parker motioned for Jason to move, sitting behind the sniper scope once Jace rolled free. He leaned forward, peered through the scope for a moment, then sat back and keyed his mike.
“Castle, this is Echo One. How copy?”
“You’re Lima Charlie, Echo One.”
“Castle, be advised, target package is identified. We are Charlie Mike on Jackpot.”
“Copy Echo One. You are continuing mission objective. We have you on ISR. QRF is inbound to your location. Castle out.”
“Alrighty, boys, it’s go time. Get your shit together and let’s snatch this fucker,” Parker said. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. Echo One moved, and the rest of us followed because that’s how this worked.
And just like that, boredom gave way to chaos, and thoughts of Daniel evaporated. They were still there, locked behind the closet door I kept my true self in.
We poured out of our hide, boots hitting the ground with the soft, practiced rhythm we’d honed since dropping out of the sky, firmly in place. We moved in pairs, low and quiet, advancing on our target without losing our line of sight.
Marcus and Dom peeled off for elevation, climbing high to provide overwatch. Sammy and Jason split off to the left. Josh and Parker continued forward, Josh adjusting his pack as he moved, double- and triple-checking his kit as he moved.
“Looks like you drew the short stick,” I joked, following Chris to the right, widening our net.
“Try not to be an idiot,” he muttered.
“Can’t make any promises,” I said, joking a second time. He didn’t take the bait either time.
At the end of the alley, we paused. Our target stood outside his building like he didn’t have a care in the world. Where he’d been, how he got back into the compound without the team seeing him, escaped me.
“Echo Two and Four have overwatch. Target appears clueless about what’s coming his way,” Marcus said.
This voice lived inside my skull. Even months of rolling with these guys, listening to them through our comms unit, it unnerved me in a way I couldn’t explain.
Stretching.
Checking his phone.
Lighting a cigarette.
“How’d this fucker get past us?” Sammy asked.
“What’s it matter?” Dom asked.
“He’s alone,” Jason muttered.
“For now,” Parker said.
Forty-eight hours of rotting in place for this asshole to sneak past us, only for him to step out of the building to take a stroll through the marketplace.
“He must’ve needed some fresh air,” Chris murmured.
I nodded, inching forward. All of us followed the guy as he moved through the town. Even under the cover of darkness, there were vendors out on the streets. Our guy paused at a fruit stand, speaking with the man behind the table before moving off.
Everything appeared normal.
Too normal.
The man meandered through the streets and shops. Then a kid on a bicycle cut between him and us, circling through the market. He looked straight at Parker, then over his shoulder toward Sammy and Jason, then toward Chris and me.
Then at the target, before he pedaled off. Fast.
The target’s posture changed instantly.
Shoulders tight.
Head up.
Cigarette dropped.
No warning. No obvious compromise. Just a look from the kid, and he bolted like someone had fired a starter pistol.
“Move,” Parker ordered.
We surged forward, keeping him in sight but not closing too fast. Civilians scattered as he shoved through them. He wasn’t just running. He was heading somewhere.
Marcus said from above, “Y’all watch your sixes. This guy knows these streets. He may be navigating blind, but there’s no hesitation.”
The target cut right, down a narrow side street. A white sedan blew through the far intersection and skidded sideways, blocking the team’s positions, except for mine and Chris’s.
Doors flew open before the tires stopped moving.
Muzzles flashed.
“Ambush!” Jason shouted.
So, yeah. The run wasn’t random.
It was choreographed.
Rounds cracked overhead. A vendor’s cart exploded in splinters beside me. Josh dropped behind a concrete barrier and returned fire. Dom and Marcus stitched rounds from their rooftop perch. Sammy dragged a civilian to cover.
The target kept sprinting.
It’s a trap, and he’s the bait flashed like a Hollywood marquee.
“Alex, hold the line!” Parker snapped.
I heard him. The words got through, but they didn’t take hold. Pivoting, I shot down an alley to cut off the guy’s escape route. Chris plastered himself to my six, moving with me instinctively without any words spoken.
The target darted into a narrow alley.
“You’re buying beers if this goes sideways,” he muttered as we followed the man.
“Shut up and run,” I shot back.
The alley swallowed the noise from the market. Too quiet. Too tight. And getting tighter with every step.
The target was twenty yards ahead.
He didn’t look back.
A door flew open. A muzzle appeared. I lifted my weapon, but I hesitated. One moment, everything was quiet, and in the space between one breath and the next, gunfire erupted.
The world went loud and ugly. A sledgehammer wrapped in fire slammed into my side, bursting into flames just under my plate. My body twisted. I dropped, hitting the ground hard and forcing the air from my lungs.
My hand slid to the spot, pulling it out a moment later. The glove I wore appeared dark, and wetness seeped through to my skin. My hand dropped to the ground.
“Fuck!”
I took a round. The motherfucker shot me. With the realization came pain. The likes of which I’d never experienced before. It beat at me. I measured my breaths staring upwards. Makeshift awnings partially obscured the dark abyss above me.
“Alex!” Chris called out to me, dropping to a knee beside me. “You okay?” he asked.
I stared up at him from my back. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, my vision blurred, then pulsed. My mouth fell open to answer, but words escaped me.
“All Echo stations, converge alley right. Echo Five is hit! Repeat, Echo Five is hit.” Dom barked through my headset.
“Push!” Parker ordered.
Gunfire erupted again, flying over me. Chris moved, placing himself between the shooter and me.
Shooters, I corrected, clocking a second shooter leaning out, adjusting his angle on us.
I tried to sit up, but my body refused. I pulled my sidearm and rolled, firing on the second shooter, dropping him. Rounds ate up the ground around us. Chris shifted, returning fire. Another burst followed. Chris moved again, blocking the rounds pelting us.
“Fucking hell!”
My eyes danced over him as the last set of rounds hit a target. They hit Chris, catching him center-mass. Keying my comms unit, I yelled, “Seven is hit! I say again, Echo Seven is hit.”
Chris kept firing, even as blood blossomed on his lower torso. He returned fire, staying upright long enough to drop the shooter. The minute the alley grew quiet, Chris wavered, then folded over me.
Boots pounded behind us as Parker and the others flooded the alley, clearing weapons from the downed combatants, providing cover, and zip-tying the target, who one of us had clipped.
Marcus pulled Chris off me, while Sammy grabbed me, flipped me onto my back, tearing open my kit and yanking up my shirt. The fabric pulled at the wound.
“Motherfucker!” I yelled.
“Through-and-through,” he muttered. “You’re lucky. Don’t make me regret saying that.”
I didn’t feel lucky. Turning my head, Marcus kneeled over Chris, pressing hard against Chris’s abdomen. Blood seeped through Marcus’s fingers. Too much blood. Too fast.
“Stay with me, Houser.”
“I’m good,” Chris said.
Bullshit. That was the biggest lie of the day. There was no way all that blood equaled good.
Parker crouched between Chris and me. Steady as a stone, Parker said, “Stay with me, Chris. Don’t you die on me.”
“Wasn’t…planning on it,” Chris gasped.
His hand reached out to me, wrapping itself around my forearm, squeezing it.
“You got this, buddy. Hang tight.”
Another squeeze—longer, less strong.
The grip slackened.
“Chris!”
“Houser!”
“Chris!”
My voice blended with Marcus’s and Parker’s, all three sharpened with fear.
Silence answered. My vision tunneled.
Sammy shoved more gauze into my side, and I might’ve screamed. I refused to admit that if I did. The edges of my vision blurred.
Parker leaned in close. Close enough, I could see the flecks of brown in his green eyes.
“Alex,” he said. “You better not croak on me.”
I tried to snort. It came out wet.
He leaned closer, forehead almost touching mine. His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Do not fucking die on me. Do you hear me? I do not wanna be the one to tell Elle you’re gone.”
That cut through the haze sharper than the bullet had, even though he used Elle and not…
Daniel.
His crooked smirk. The way he looked at me was as if I were something worth choosing.
“I’m not—” I swallowed against the copper in my mouth. “Not dying.”
“Good,” Parker said, jaw tight.
Behind him, Marcus rose, fury carved into every line of his body, from his clenched fists to his dark, horror-filled face.
Sammy slapped my cheek lightly. “Stay with me, Alex. Don’t make this worse.”
The whomp whomp of a helicopter sounded overhead. A full contingent of Marines flooded the alley. One of them held a very familiar face.
“A Marine Raider riding QRF?”
Walker Holt smiled, patting my shoulder. “You ready to get the hell outta here?”
I nodded, watching them lift Chris first, then me. One thought looped through the haze in my head—The target didn’t run for no reason. And as everything tilted and blurred and the noise faded in and out, all I could think was that Chris had stepped into my line of fire without hesitation.
He ran because we were supposed to chase him.
And Chris Houser had stepped into the line of fire meant for me without hesitation.
He’d taken my rounds.