Chapter 45
Chapter Forty-Five
RIGEL
Stormy’s ears perk up. A low growl rumbles from her chest as she stares intently at the front door. Mia and Blake immediately tense beside me, their relaxed movie-watching posture replaced by high alert.
“What is it, girl?” I ask, trusting Stormy’s instincts.
As if in response, Mitzy’s sensors blare to life, confirming the breach we expect. The screen fills with warnings of multiple intruders on the property.
Blake springs into action, grabbing his weapon and moving to a defensive position near the window.
“Remember the plan.” My eyes lock with Mia’s. “Stay close to Stormy. She’ll protect you.”
Mia takes a deep breath, steeling herself. She runs her hands over the tactical vest she’s wearing, feeling the slight bulge of the fake blood packets hidden beneath the fabric that will activate if she’s hit.
When she’s hit.
There’s a lot about this plan I hate, but there is no other way.
“I’m ready.” Determination girds her frame. Beneath that, pure terror races through her veins .
I’d be scared, too, if I was in her shoes. The worst part is I wouldn’t have as much faith in Blake and me as she demonstrates now.
I check my weapon and move to another window, scanning the darkness outside. The vineyard, once a place of peace and sanctuary, now feels like a battleground.
I glance back at Mia, my heart clenching at the thought of what she’s about to endure, but this is the only way to keep her safe and finally put an end to Red Phoenix’s relentless pursuit.
Stormy positions herself next to Mia, her keen senses attuned to any sign of danger. She’s more than just a loyal companion; she’s a highly trained Navy SEAL dog, ready to defend her humans with everything she has.
The faint sound of footsteps on gravel reaches my ears, and my grip tightens on my weapon.
“Multiple heat signatures on approach.” Mitzy’s voice rings through the comms. “Count four.”
Only four?
“Copy that.” I turn to Blake.
“Game time.” Blake catches my eye and nods, a silent communication born of countless missions together.
We’re ready.
Prepared to fight tooth and nail to protect Mia, while also orchestrating a believable death.
Which looks, sounds, and feels counterintuitive, but it has to look real if we’re going to fake Mia’s death and give her any semblance of a normal life after this is done.
“Mia, put on the hoodie.” I help Mia with the specially designed garment. “Keep your head down.”
Mitzy assures me the specially designed hoodie will keep Mia’s head protected. Protected from a bullet’s penetration, but not from the concussive force it delivers.
It’s a shit plan.
Is it some sort of sick graveyard humor that I hope Mia’s attackers go for a center-of-mass shot rather than a headshot ?
The air grows thick with tension as we wait, hearts pounding in the stillness. Mia’s attackers won’t stay hidden for long.
“Count ten more breaching the perimeter.” Mitzy’s smooth tone surprises me. “They sent a fucking army.”
“Copy that.” Ethan responds from outside, where he’s stationed with the rest of Charlie team. “We’ll keep ‘em busy.”
There’s no reason to ask where the attackers are coming from. Mitzy sends that information to the HUDs they wear outside. Unlike Blake and I, who are in civvies, the rest of Charlie team is fully decked out in tactical black with HUDs.
All combat information, such as night vision and thermal imaging, is sent to the HUDs. Blake wasn’t kidding about having cool tech for this job.
“Rigel?” Mia shakes like a leaf, cowering behind the couch.
“Stay down.” My command is clipped and curt. I can’t afford any distractions.
As if on cue, a window shatters, and all hell breaks loose.
Glass shards explode inward as the first shots ring out. I drop into a crouch, my weapon raised and ready. Blake is already returning fire, his movements precise and controlled.
I risk a glance at Mia, who huddles behind the couch with Stormy. Gunfire from Charlie team fills the air as they engage with the second wave of attackers.
Sounds like a fucking war out there.
I move to the window, taking aim at the shadowy figures advancing on the house. Beside me, Blake fires off a series of shots, his face set in grim determination.
We fall into a familiar rhythm, covering each other as we engage the enemy. The men set against us are well-trained, their movements swift and calculated, but Blake and I have years of SEAL team experience on our side.
The crack of a bullet passes close to my head, and the sting of shattered glass peppers my cheek. I ignore it, focusing on the threat at hand.
Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood reaches my ears. An armed assailant breaches the front door. I spin around in time to see a dark figure lunging toward Mia.
I meet him head-on, engaging in close-quarters combat. He’s fast. He’s strong. His blows are precise and lethal.
But I’m faster.
Stronger.
And I’m determined to take the fucker down.
I block his strikes, countering with a series of my own. We grapple, each trying to gain the upper hand. Blake continues firing, holding off other attackers.
The assassin lands a solid punch to my ribs, and the air rushes from my lungs.
But I don’t falter.
I retaliate with a swift kick, sending him stumbling backward.
We circle each other, eyes locked, searching for an opening. My MMA training takes over, instinct guiding my movements. I feint left, then strike right, my fist connecting with his jaw.
He staggers, and I press my advantage. A series of rapid blows, each one landing with brutal efficiency. The assassin fights back, but his strength wanes.
With a final, devastating strike, I end the fight. The assassin crumples to the ground, unmoving.
Dead.
I turn back to the window, my breath coming in rapid gasps. Blake is still engaged with the remaining attackers, but they fall back.
“It’s not over yet.”
I spare a glance at Mia, who watches with wide, frightened eyes. Stormy is pressed close to her side, a low growl emanating from her throat.
Stormy is tense. Her hackles raised. Her gaze locked on the door. She’s prepared to defend Mia with her life.
Blake catches my eye, an unspoken question in his gaze. It’s time to set the stage for Mia’s “death.” It means allowing the attackers to get in a shot.
Fuck, this is madness .
Blake breaks away from the window, moving toward the rear of the house. He’s going to create the illusion our focus is divided and off Mia.
Suddenly, Stormy lets out a fierce bark, and I spin around just in time to see another man decked out in black tactical gear enter through the shattered remains of the front door.
Weapon raised, he aims directly at Mia.
A shot rings out, and Mia cries out in pain. My heart stops as she stumbles back, clutching her shoulder. Blood seeps through her fingers, but she’s protected by the tactical vest underneath.
It’s not real blood.
It’s not real blood.
Still, the sight of her injured makes my blood boil.
Stormy leaps forward, a blur of teeth, fur, and fury. The assassin manages a solid kick to Stormy’s ribs. She yelps in pain but reengages, lunging at the gunman, snapping at his arm, and forcing his second shot to go wide.
He struggles, trying to fend her off, but Stormy is relentless. Her training shines through. She bears down harder, her jaws clamping down on his arm.
His weapon clatters to the floor.
The assassin scrabbles for his fallen gun. His fingers close around the grip, and he brings his weapon up, aiming wildly.
Another shot rings out.
Mia jerks backward, her eyes wide with shock. For a heart-stopping moment, I think the worst.
Mia staggers and then collapses. Her body hits the floor with a dull thud. The fake blood spreads, soaking her shirt and pooling beneath her body.
At least, it better be fake blood.
Stormy, hearing Mia’s cry, releases her hold on the assassin and bounds to her side. She nuzzles Mia’s face, whining softly, playing her part in the deception.
“No! Mia, no!” I let out a guttural cry of anguish and rage, my eyes fixed on Mia’s blood-soaked body.
With me distracted by Mia’s death, the assassin pushes himself up and stumbles toward the door. With shaking hands, he activates his communication device.
“Target eliminated.” His breath comes in short gasps. “The girl is dead.”
I hear a muffled response, a voice crackling through the device. “Well done.”
With the gunman’s attention focused on escape and not on me, I turn my fury on him.
“You killed her!” I launch at him and scream in his face. I deliver a series of blows, precise and powerful, that bloody my knuckles and take him down.
We clash in a brutal exchange of blows. My training takes over. My strikes precise and devastating. The assassin is skilled, but he’s no match for my rage.
The gunman staggers, trying to regain his balance, and I double down. Stormy leaps to my defense, sinking her teeth into the man’s leg. I land a final, disabling strike, sending the intruder crashing to the floor.
The assassin’s eyes widen, a flicker of fear passing over his face, but there’s also a glint of satisfaction and an odd flicker of peace.
I let out another roar filled with rage and fury. My hands tighten around the assassin’s neck, my knuckles turning white.
The assassin laughs a cruel, broken sound. “It doesn’t matter what you do to me,” he spits. “My job is complete. The girl is dead.”
His words fuel my fury, and I slam his head against the floor again and again. Then, I punch him, a vicious blow that snaps his head to the side.
“I’ll kill you,” I snarl, my vision red with rage. “I’ll make you pay for what you’ve done.”
It’s a performance—but is it?—my emotions are raw. Fear claws at my throat, desperation churns in my gut, and the soul-crushing thought of losing Mia ignites a firestorm of rage within me.
“Rigel!” Blake’s voice cuts through the haze of my anger. “Rigel, stop. We need him alive.”
For a moment, I don’t listen. All I can see is Mia’s still form, the blood pooling beneath her. All I can hear is the assassin’s cruel laughter.
The assassin laughs again, blood staining his teeth. “Go ahead,” he taunts. “Killing me won’t bring her back. It won’t change anything. As for me, my debt is paid.”
“Your debt? What does that mean?” I growl, tightening my grip on him.
The assassin’s eyes flicker with a mixture of defiance and resignation. “Just end it,” he whispers. “My family’s safe now. That’s all that matters.”
Stormy heads back to where Mia lies on the floor, whining softly and nudging Mia’s hand. In that tiny moment of distraction, the man somehow manages to pull a knife. He slices across his neck, cutting open his carotid artery, delivering a life-ending wound.
“What the fuck?” I stare down at the man as he bleeds out beneath me.
“Did he…?” Blake’s eyes widen, his mouth falling open in shock. His face drains of color, his disbelief evident in the furrow of his brow.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“No fucking clue, but did you hear what he said?”
“No?”
“He said his family was safe now. What the fuck do you think that means?”
“A few things come to mind, each crazier than the last.” Blake rubs at his jaw. “Regardless, we’re clear here.” He taps his mic. “Interior secure. Status update.”
While we wait for our team to check in, I rush to Mia’s side.