14. Rook
ROOK
The first rifle shot cracked across the harbor.
The woman struck Rook’s chest and drove him behind the steel winch.
They hit the snow-covered dock together.
A second round slammed into the spot where Rook had been standing.
Wood splintered.
Gunfire erupted across the harbor.
Windows shattered.
Bullets struck shipping containers.
Snow exploded beneath the storm of incoming rounds.
Every member of Shadow Division moved instantly.
Training took over.
Weapons rose.
Cover was found.
Targets were hunted.
Rook rolled onto one knee beside the woman.
Her palm still rested against his chest.
His arm remained around her waist.
For one suspended second, gray eyes locked with his.
Then another shot struck the winch.
The moment vanished.
She pulled her hand away and drew her pistol.
Rook raised his rifle.
“Falcon, locate the shooters.”
“Working on it.”
Muzzle flashes appeared along the western ridge.
Falcon fired from the elevated repair platform.
The first flash disappeared.
“One down.”
His calm voice echoed through their radios.
Another muzzle flash appeared.
Then another.
The ridge came alive.
Mercenaries poured fire into the harbor.
“Sniper?” Rook called.
“Three shooters west. Two near the fuel-storage fence. Movement above the northern repair building.”
“Take the high ground.”
“With pleasure.”
Sniper’s rifle cracked.
A silhouette disappeared from the roof.
Rook looked toward Cutter.
The retired captain had taken cover behind a marine engine block near the center dock.
“Sam, your people?”
“Evacuating through the southern workshop.”
“Can you secure the exit?”
Cutter fired toward the ridge.
A mercenary stumbled backward into the snow.
“Already doing it.”
Rook returned his attention to the woman.
She crouched beside him with her back against the winch.
Her breathing remained steady.
Too steady.
No panic.
No hesitation.
No surprise.
As though she had expected the attack from the moment her boat entered the harbor.
No.
Not expected.
Prepared for it.
“You knew they were coming,” Rook said.
“I knew they were close.”
“How close?”
She leaned around the winch and fired twice.
A man near the northern repair building dropped.
“That close.”
Rook almost smiled.
Almost.
A burst of gunfire tore through the dock behind them.
“Move!”
Rook grabbed her hand.
For a fraction of a second, she stared at their joined fingers.
Surprise flickered through her eyes.
Not fear.
Something quieter.
As though no one had taken her hand to pull her toward safety in a very long time.
Then they ran.
Rounds struck the dock behind them.
Steel rang.
Snow burst around their boots.
Rook felt her hand tighten around his as they sprinted toward a line of shipping containers.
They reached cover together.
Neither released the other immediately.
The realization passed between them.
Quick.
Unspoken.
Then she pulled away and changed magazines.
Fast.
Efficient.
Automatic.
No wasted movement.
Rook had watched elite operators perform the same motion thousands of times.
This woman wasn’t merely trained.
She was experienced.
Very experienced.
He watched her scan the ridge.
She wasn’t searching for an escape route.
She was counting positions.
Dissecting the attack.
Understanding it.
“Who trained you?” he asked.
“Not the time.”
“Then give me your name.”
She checked the ammunition in her pistol.
Another bullet struck the container.
Rook waited.
Finally, she looked at him.
“Sarah.”
The name landed strangely.
After months of thinking of her as the woman, the ghost, and the silver sword, one simple name made her feel more real.
“Sarah what?”
“That’s all you get.”
“For now.”
Something changed in her expression.
The faintest hint of amusement.
“You’re very confident.”
“I’ve been told.”
“I doubt it was a compliment.”
Before Rook could answer, Fathom’s voice entered the channel.
“Thirty-two heat signatures approaching from the west and north.”
The number landed hard.
Thirty-two armed attackers.
Someone had committed serious resources.
Someone wanted the harbor eliminated tonight.
“Vehicles?” Rook asked.
“Four SUVs stopped beyond the western ridge. Two additional vehicles near the harbor road.”
“Communications?”
“Encrypted, but I’m breaking into one channel.”
Cobra’s voice followed.
“Permission to make their vehicles unavailable?”
“What are you planning?”
“Small directional charges along the access road.”
Rook looked toward the fuel-storage area.
“Nothing near Cutter’s tanks, buildings, or people.”
“You take all the fun out of this.”
“Disable their escape vehicles. Do not destroy the harbor.”
A pause.
“Define destroy.”
“Cobra.”
“Understood.”
Rook heard the disappointment.
Across the docks, Reef and Maverick advanced between the warehouses, covering the retreating dock workers.
Falcon and Sniper controlled the high ground.
Cutter protected the southern evacuation route.
Inside headquarters, Shark remained beside Fathom, monitoring the security system with his uninjured arm.
They were outnumbered.
But this was their harbor.
Their ground.
And Shadow Division had spent months preparing to defend it.
“Rook,” Fathom said. “I’m inside their channel.”
“What are they saying?”
Static answered.
Then a man’s voice emerged through the radio.
“Primary target entered central dock. Gray eyes. Dark hair. Black jacket.”
Rook looked at Sarah.
She didn’t react.
Fathom played another transmission.
“Teams Two and Three, isolate the female. Eliminate anyone providing cover.”
The words changed everything.
“They aren’t attacking the warehouse,” Fathom said. “They’re hunting her.”
Sarah closed her eyes for one heartbeat.
When they opened, she looked resigned.
Not surprised.
She had known.
Rook’s anger turned cold.
“You led them here?”
“No.”
“Did they follow you?”
“I checked.”
“They found the harbor somehow.”
“Yes.”
“And you came anyway.”
Her gaze locked with his.
“Because they already knew where you were.”
A directional explosion sounded along the access road.
Metal screamed.
Cobra’s satisfied voice entered the channel.
“Two escape vehicles disabled. Harbor remains mostly intact.”
“Mostly?” Cutter demanded.
“I scratched a fence.”
“That better be all you scratched.”
The attackers’ communications became frantic.
They had lost vehicles.
Their target had reached Shadow Division.
Their assault was no longer proceeding as planned.
Sarah looked toward the ridge.
Three figures stood farther back than the shooters.
They weren’t firing.
They were directing.
“Command element,” she said.
Rook followed her gaze.
The men used the ridge and storm for cover while ordering others into the harbor.
One turned slightly.
Light from the burning engine of a disabled SUV reached his face.
Sarah stopped breathing.
Every trace of humor vanished.
Her entire body went still.
“Do you know him?” Rook asked.
She didn’t answer.
The man raised binoculars and looked toward the docks.
Sarah moved out of cover.
Rook caught her wrist.
“Wait.”
She spun toward him.
For the first time, her control shattered.
Rage filled her gray eyes.
“He shouldn’t be here.”
That wasn’t the response of someone spotting an unknown enemy.
It was the response of someone seeing a ghost.
“Who is he?”
Sarah looked toward the ridge.
“He investigated my brother’s disappearance.”
Another round struck the container above them.
“He promised my family answers.”
Her voice became colder.
“He buried the investigation instead.”
Rook looked toward the man.
“Name.”
“Marcus Lane.”
Rook touched his radio.
“Fathom, run Colonel Marcus Lane.”
Keys clicked through the channel.
Sarah stared toward the ridge.
“What was your brother’s name?” Rook asked.
She hesitated.
“Wade.”
The name meant nothing to him.
Not yet.
“What happened to his team?”
“They disappeared during a classified operation five years ago.”
“Disappeared?”
“No bodies. No records. No investigation that wasn’t controlled by Marcus.”
Rook tightened his grip around his rifle.
Another team.
Another mission.
Another betrayal.
Marcus Lane had been connected to both.
Sarah’s gaze remained fixed on the ridge.
“He knows what happened to Wade.”
“Then we take him alive.”
Sarah looked at Rook.
It was the first time anyone had offered to help her reach the truth instead of telling her to stop searching.
Something moved through her eyes.
Hope.
Small.
Frightened.
Dangerous.
Then it disappeared behind the armor.
“Marcus never goes anywhere without an escape plan.”
Rook called the team.
“Command target on the western ridge. Colonel Marcus Lane. We need him alive.”
Sniper answered first.
“I see him.”
“Do not take the shot unless he raises a weapon.”
“Understood.”
The battle intensified around them.
Sarah checked her pistol.
Rook shifted closer, their shoulders touching behind the container.
This time, neither moved away.
“We get him together,” Rook said.
Sarah looked at him.
“You don’t even know me.”
“You saved my life.”
“Twice.”
Rook’s mouth almost curved.
“Then I owe you.”
Her gaze held his for one heartbeat longer than necessary.
“Yes,” she said softly. “You do.”