Chapter 1
Eastern Europe
Classified rescue mission
Five years ago…
“Thirty seconds to infil. We’ve got massive resistance, so we’re going in hot.”
Chase Remington shuffled in beside his buddies as Foster Beckett’s voice sounded through his comm unit. Though, for Foster to comment on the conditions, the situation had to be worse than usual. Which meant their intel had been lacking. Again.
Zain Everett and Kash Sinclair moved in beside him, Kash’s partner, a feisty German Shepherd named Nyx, strapped to his buddy’s chest. Chase shook his head. And Kash thought Chase was crazy carrying his medic bag.
The chopper swooped in low, rotors thundering through the night, nothing but a hint of moonlight guiding their way. The doors slid open, a mix of mountain air and incoming rain spilling into the cabin. A thick canopy of trees rushed beneath them, the tops black against the indigo sky.
Foster banked the chopper, skimming the treetops before the forest disappeared, the off-grid compound rising before them like a monolith. A large wall surrounded the collection of buildings, smoke rising from a couple chimneys.
He didn’t slow, eating up the distance before flaring off the speed — bringing the machine into a high hover. Dust kicked up beneath them, their ropes snapping in the downwash as they dropped out of the chopper, the ends pooling on the roof of the building.
Green tracer fire streaked across the sky as gunfire popped through the air. Bullets ricocheted off the struts, their gunner, Rhett Oliver, returning fire.
Rhett waved them on. “Get your asses out the damn door before they’re filled with lead.”
Zain rolled his eyes, then leaped out, racing down the line face first — firing off rounds as he went.
He hit the clay tiles all of five seconds later, Kash a step behind him.
Chase brought up the rear, boots slamming against the rooftop, the rope slipping free as Rhett reeled it back in.
Chase scoured the area, the voice inside his head poking at him.
Based on the amount of resistance, he doubted the mission would go off without injuries.
Zain took up his position as overwatch, already scoping the compound as Chase and Kash dropped to the ground, his buddy catching Nyx.
Alpha team waved them over, two of the Green Berets taking point.
Laying down cover fire as Chase and Kash closed in.
After a few hand signals, they took off, hoofing it across an open stretch, then behind one of the peripheral structures.
Some kind of shed that creaked as the chopper roared overhead, banking hard to the right before disappearing into the night.
Master Sergeant Eric Dalton, Alpha’s squad leader, wove his way across the compound, stopping at the main building. A red door sat recessed amidst the wood and stone, the frame giving against the force of Dalton’s boot.
He grabbed a canister off his vest, then chucked it inside. The grenade skipped across the floor, each impact sending out a tiny vibration. It spun to a halt, everything freezing for one agonizing moment before it detonated.
Lights and sound filled the air, smoke billowing out the end. Shouts rose above the ear-piercing wail as people poured out of the rooms, barely taking a couple steps before crumbling.
Dalton twirled his finger, and his team exploded into the building, night vision goggles covering their eyes, rifles notched in their shoulders.
Quick, sharp bursts echoed through the space, scattering anyone not already down.
Chase followed the men inside, the night vision’s eerie green hue painting the interior.
They swept through the main section and continued down a long hallway, clearing rooms, then moving ahead.
Chase covered their six, gun at his shoulder, ready to charge ahead if anyone got hit.
Dust filtered through the air, glowing in the soldier’s small beams cutting through the darkness.
Boots tapped the floor as the men entered a large room, photos and maps pinned to the far wall.
Kash jogged ahead, giving Nyx enough slack to work the room.
She stopped at a shelving unit, then pawed at the floor, glancing up at Kash.
“Good girl.” Kash reeled her in as Dalton and his weapons’ specialist, Caleb Rios, shouldered up.
They muscled the shelf to the side, exposing a thick, metal door. Some C4 tacked to the hinges, and the door exploded, clattering to the floor as more smoke filled the air. Shouts echoed from inside, the hostages clutching each other as the team swooped in.
Chase gave them a quick once-over, bodily lifting one woman who wouldn’t budge, gaze fixed straight ahead. Clothes torn. Alpha’s medic, Royce Carver, hiked the woman onto his shoulder, following the rest of his team back through the corridors as Chase swept behind them.
Rios veered off at the next junction, covering an adjoining hallway when gunfire erupted from the shadows, catching Rios in the neck. He fell hard, blood arcing off the ceiling and walls, his legs spasming.
Chase took off a heartbeat later, vaulting over a chair before sliding under more rounds — slipping out of his medic bag as he went.
Two seconds flat, and he had his hand cinched around the wound, the bag spread out beside him.
Bullets whizzed past, hitting an inch from his head, kicking up bits of wood as the rounds pinged off the floor and walls.
He kept working, clamping off one of the bleeders before packing the whole mess with sponges and gauze — prepping him for medevac. More gunfire erupted in the next room, shouts and grunts prickling the hairs on his neck when his comm unit clicked.
Zain’s voice crackled over the line, steady. Unyielding. “Enemy reinforcements inbound. Get the lead out.”
Chase tied off the bandages, packed up his bag, then lifted the man fireman style, weapon still grasped in one hand. He booked it down the hallway and out the door, scouring the landscape.
The hostages stumbled their way across the grounds, Kash and the others picking up any stragglers. Chase trailed after them, Marcus Hayes, Alpha’s comm tech, guarding his six. Keeping a path open as they raced for the landing zone.
Gravel crunched in the distance, those reinforcements bumping along the main road — headlights slicing through the darkness. His teammates angled right, staying on the periphery, Zain targeting anyone trying to flank them.
Chase picked up speed, Rios groaning with every jostle when a band of hostiles stepped out of the shadows, rifles spitting out rounds.
The group separated, Kash and two others veering right — corralling the hostages against the wall as they hoofed it toward the rendezvous site. Dalton and Carver returned fire, until a grenade landed nearby.
They hit the ground, the frag exploding a second later.
Dirt and shrapnel flew through the air, dust choking off the area in a smothering debris cloud.
Chase raced ahead, firing off rounds before he and Hayes ducked behind another small building.
Chase eased Rios onto the ground, then chucked out a few canisters, firing off more rounds until everything erupted into chaos.
The grenades detonated, a blinding flash slicing through the darkness as an ear-piercing shrill echoed through the air.
“Cover me.” Chase didn’t wait for Hayes to start shooting, just darted out, dodging gunfire and tripwires before grabbing Dalton and dragging him behind a wall. Chase braced Dalton’s shoulders against the shed, then raced over to Carver, taking a hit to his vest as he carried the man back.
Hayes took point, doing his best to cover every angle as Chase piled more supplies on Dalton’s legs, quickly triaging the injuries.
Carver had multiple shrapnel injuries, the worst chunk poking out from his thigh.
Blood dripped from the wounds, soaking into the ground in an increasing black puddle.
Dalton had a GSW to his upper shoulder, just outside his vest. No exit wound.
Chase went to work, pouring on clotting powder, doing his best to plug the holes — ready them for medevac.
Hayes was on the comms, calling in another chopper, going through his mags in an effort to keep the forces at bay.
Rotors sounded in the distance, the deep resonance vibrating through the ground.
Footsteps pounded near the wall, two hostages doubling back — hitting the ground amidst more gunfire. Chase tensed, glancing at the soldiers, then back to the civilians, aware he couldn’t carry them all .
Couldn’t save everyone.
Dalton gave him a shove, hand falling to his lap as if the simple movement had drained his strength. “We’re not dead yet, Remington. We can drag our asses to the medevac chopper. Hayes has our backs. Get them and go.”
Chase clenched his jaw, staring at the increasing pool of blood. The unfocused eyes staring back at him. He readied his rifle, glanced at Hayes, then over to Dalton. The man was already fading, eyes drooping, his weapon resting in his lap.
Dalton coughed, blood splattering across his fatigues. “I said, go.”
Chase pushed down the riotous roll of his gut. The cold reality that he might not make the return trip in time. “I’ll double back once they’re onboard. Ride home with you.”
“Only if we don’t get onto that other chopper, first.”
“You’d better.” Chase took a step — looked back. “I’m sorry.”
He took off, sprinting across the short section — grabbing both women without really slowing.
He slung one over his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around the other’s chest — half-carrying her as he bolted for the aircraft.
Shouts carried on the wind, grenades and gunfire following in his wake as he picked up speed.
Foster’s chopper waited in a small clearing, the rotors damn near hitting the trees, Rhett rattling through ammo as he cut through the adjoining forest, cracking branches and scattering more forces.