Chapter 41 Jase
Jase
Location: Abandoned Fishing Shelter — Adriatic Coast
The door explodes inward.
Gunfire follows.
No warning. No hesitation.
Execution.
I move on instinct—grabbing Mila and driving her down behind the overturned table as rounds tear through the wood where we were standing a second ago.
“CONTACT—INSIDE!” Lance shouts over comms.
Too late.
They’re already here.
Boots pound across the floor—fast, controlled, trained.
Not random shooters.
Professionals.
“They breached!” Cal snaps.
“I see that!” I fire back, leaning out just enough—
Two shots.
First hostile drops before he clears the doorway.
Second stumbles—
Mila fires from beside me.
Clean.
Precise.
He goes down.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
God, she’s good.
“They’re stacking outside!” Ronan’s voice cuts in. “More incoming!”
Of course there are.
“They’re not here to capture,” Mila says, already reloading. “They’re here to wipe us out.”
I glance at her.
She’s right.
I can feel it.
The way they came in.
The way they’re pushing.
This isn’t containment.
This is termination.
“Hayes,” I mutter.
Mila’s eyes flick to mine.
“He knows,” she says.
“Yeah,” I reply. “And he’s not taking chances.”
The flash drive.
Everything on it.
Everything we know.
That’s why we’re still breathing—
Barely.
Another burst of gunfire rips through the doorway.
Wood splinters.
Dust fills the air.
“They’re pushing again!” Jonah calls.
“Let them,” I say, rising slightly.
Mila looks at me like she already knows what I’m about to do.
“You’re not going alone,” she says.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
A beat.
Then—
We move.
Fast.
Together.
Two hostiles breach the doorway—
I take the first—
Mila drops the second before he even clears the frame.
We advance instead of retreating.
That’s the difference.
That’s what they didn’t expect.
“They’re inside!” Lance shouts.
“No,” I correct, voice cold. “We are.”
We push the doorway.
Close the distance.
Turn their entry into their mistake.
A third hostile swings around the side of the structure—
I catch the movement—
Fire—
He drops hard against the outer wall.
“Left clear!” I call.
“Right still active!” Mila snaps.
Another one comes in low—
Too fast.
Too close.
I pivot—
Not enough time to fire—
Mila slams into me, shoving me back as the round cracks past where my head was—
She fires point-blank.
The hostile drops at our feet.
For half a second—
Everything stops.
My hand grips her arm.
Hard.
“You good?” I demand.
She nods once, breath sharp. “Yeah.”
But her eyes—
Locked on mine.
That same fire.
That same promise.
I don’t even think.
“Stay with me,” I say.
“Always,” she fires back.
And that right there?
That’s all I need.
Gunfire erupts again from outside.
“They’re regrouping again!” Ronan calls. “Heavier this time!”
“Heavier how?” Cal asks.
A pause.
Then—
“Six. Maybe more.”
Perfect.
“They’re getting desperate,” Mila says.
“Good,” I reply. “So are we.”
I glance around the shelter.
Small space.
Limited exits.
No room to fall back.
Which means—
We don’t.
“We hold here,” I say.
“That’s not exactly ideal,” Lance mutters.
“No,” I agree. “It’s not.”
I check my mag.
Then look at Mila.
But it’s the only option.
“And we make them regret coming through that door.”
A slow, dangerous smile touches her lips.
“Now that,” she says, lifting her weapon, “I can get behind.”
Outside—
Boots hit gravel.
Voices—low, controlled.
Stacking up.
Again.
But this time—
We’re ready.
“On me,” I say quietly.
The team tightens.
Positions lock in.
Weapons steady.
Breath controlled.
The doorframe stands broken.
Open.
Waiting.
For them.
My pulse slows.
Sharp.
Focused.
No fear.
Only one thought running through my head—
They came here to kill us.
Big mistake.
The first shadow crosses the doorway—
Then another.
Then—
“NOW!” I snap.
Gunfire explodes.
And this time—
We don’t give them an inch.