Chapter 19
YARA
As soon as Rafe’s hand comes down, we all take off running.
Crouched low, making ourselves as small of targets as possible, we head due north, towards a small copse of trees halfway between us and the house up ahead.
Ace is in the lead, then me, and Indy at my six.
Though I’ve never run an op with them before, it feels natural, like we’ve done this dozens of times.
Off to our right, Rafe, Tyler, Trigger, and Grover are doing the same as they move towards their next destination. With my goggles on, I catch a glimpse of the four of them, moving in tandem. But to the average person, they’d be no more than shifting shadows in the night.
It was a good idea of Rafe’s, waiting an extra day for the new moon. It stung at first, delaying our rescue attempt when I knew Malik was so close. But being out here, seeing the difference between last night’s moon and tonight… I’m glad we did it.
As the trees grow closer, my adrenaline surges.
We’re so close.
In only minutes, we’ll be breaching the house.
And then…
Oh, please. Let it all go as planned.
Let Malik be in there, as our source claimed.
Let us get through this rescue without complications.
Let everyone make it home safely.
And please, oh please, let Ace come through this okay.
An icy hand wraps around my heart and squeezes. With it, fear clutches my chest. The same question that’s haunted me for the last week comes at me again.
What if this mission goes sideways? What if, in my desperation to rescue Malik, I end up getting my friends hurt? Or even killed?
What if Ace—
No.
I grab hold of the metaphorical steel door in my mind and yank it shut, sealing off the unwelcome thoughts. There’s no place for them here, not when I need to be solely focused on what’s coming next.
With our comms silent for now, the only sound I can hear is the faint crunch of my footsteps on the patchy grass.
Unused to wearing full tactical gear after three years out, my skin prickles with sweat.
With the heavy weight of my bulletproof vest pressing down on my chest, a wave of claustrophobia hits me. My pulse jumps.
Self-doubt nudges in, growing more oppressive the closer to the trees we get.
What if I can’t handle this, despite my insistence of the opposite? What if I’m not as strong as I claimed? What if I freeze up in there, and I end up getting someone killed?
My fear is a rip current, trapping me. Dragging me down. Stealing my confidence and making me doubt coming at all.
Maybe I should have stayed back at B and A, like Ace gently suggested at the start. “You’re still healing,” he explained. “And after everything with Davis…”
I got mad at him for that. Afterwards, back in his—or is it our?—apartment, I argued with him about it. I laid out all the reasons why I was more than capable of going on this mission, and I even accused him of not believing in me.
How ironic is that? Accusing Ace of not believing in me when I don’t even believe in myself?
No, my inner voice of reason protests, supportive for once instead of skeptical. You are capable. Just as capable as anyone else here. It’s all in your head.
Before I can debate it, we reach the small cluster of trees and duck inside them. Ace’s arm comes around my shoulder, pulling me into a small huddle with him and Indy, and partially shielding me.
I know he wouldn’t do that with any of his teammates. But I’m too wound up with nerves to pay much attention to the difference, aside from being grateful for the brief contact.
“Everyone okay?” he asks in an almost inaudible tone. His hand moves to my upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“Okay here,” Indy whispers.
“Fine,” I reply quietly, though I’m not entirely sure I believe it. “Good to go.”
“Alright.” He touches his comm and says, “Ready to move on your signal.”
After a beat, Rafe’s voice comes through our ear pieces. “Hold. Ty’s just checking the scanner again.”
In the seconds that pass while we wait, Ace turns to me. His face is hidden by his goggles and black face paint. “It’s going to be fine,” he whispers. “Before you know it, we’ll be back home.”
I grab hold of his confidence and tuck it close.
It’s going to be fine.
My worries are all in my head.
I’ve run ops like this before. I can do it again.
With a deep inhale, I let it out slowly. Softly. Quietly. And with it, some of my fear.
Ace says it’s going to be fine. And I believe him.
Our comms come to life again. “Still five inside,” Rafe reports. “Good to go?”
“Ready,” Ace replies.
He squeezes my arm again.
He knows I’m scared, though I’d never admit it. And even now, he’s trying to comfort me.
Emotion slams into me, stealing my breath.
God, I love him.
“On a three count,” Rafe says. He pauses. “Three. Two. One—”
And we go.
Exploding into action, we dart off into the night again.
The danger builds the closer we get to the building.
Our chances of discovery grow greater.
But I refuse to let myself think about it. Refuse to let the doubting thoughts intrude.
As we run, I scan our surroundings, searching for any sign of activity. Headlights. A flashlight bobbing. Voices. The small snick of a trigger cocking.
But there’s nothing aside from the sound of our footsteps.
About five yards out from the building, Ace whispers, “One of the windows is boarded up. Northeast corner. But not the others.”
He doesn’t have to explain. A single boarded-up window could mean Malik is being held in that room.
“Good,” Rafe answers. “Ace. Yara. You’ll head that way once we get inside.”
“On it,” I reply. Once we breach, Ace and I will be the ones searching for Malik, while the others focus on subduing the tangos.
Ahead of me, Ace reaches for his vest pocket. A moment later, he pulls out one of the flashbangs. “Flashbang ready,” he says. “Ten seconds out.”
“Roger,” Rafe replies. “See you inside.”
Nothing more needs to be said. We know what’s ahead.
As our trio approaches the house from the western side of it, adrenaline surges again.
All the planning, and it’s finally time.
Once we reach the corner of the building, we flatten ourselves against the wall, all in a line. As before, it’s Ace in the lead, me in the middle, and Indy at the rear. Our weapons are at low ready. Ace’s flashbang is ready to go.
Crouching low, we creep along the outer wall, staying below the window line.
The first window we pass is dark, but the one up ahead shows a flickering light glowing from within.
A television, at best guess, which ups the chance that at least one of the tangos is inside the room.
Best case, there’ll be more than one to disorient when Ace throws the flashbang through it.
Ace lifts his hand, giving the signal to hold. Then he sneaks ahead, moving slightly away from the building to give himself room to make the throw.
Indy moves close behind me, his breath brushing the back of my neck.
My heart launches to my throat as I watch Ace get into position. I don’t like how exposed he is. Someone could look out the window and they’d see him easily. Could shoot him before he even gets a return shot off.
But the worst doesn’t happen.
Instead, Ace flings the weighted flashbang at the window and races for the relative safety of the wall as the glass shatters. I duck my head so I’m not blinded by the light coming from inside, but the resulting explosion tells me it worked.
By agreement, we sprint around the front of the house, searching for the nearest door. Ace reaches it first and kicks the door with such force, the wood splinters as it flies open.
From inside, there are startled, angry shouts. They’re speaking in Farsi, so I can understand them. It’s mostly curses, but one man shouts to the others to get their weapons. Another says something about securing their captive.
As Ace, Indy, and I move in past the broken front door, Tyler comes racing inside to join us. From the room adjacent, there’s another splintering crash, which I assume is Rafe, Grover, and Trigger.
Inside, we’re met with a choking cloud of smoke that makes it hard to see. But I spot one tango in the corner, fumbling for something in a cabinet. On the opposite side of the room, another man is lying on the floor, struggling to get free of the blanket he’s tangled in.
Indy springs at the man on the floor and punches him—using his prosthetic, I note with grim satisfaction—before flipping the man over and pinning him down. Ace fires off a shot at the man near the cabinet, and a second later, Tyler fires a second.
“I’ve got him,” Tyler shouts. “Go!”
From the other room, glass breaks. Something heavy falls over. A gunshot sounds, followed by a low moan of pain.
Fear clutches my stomach.
Please, let that be the tango I heard, and not one of my friends.
In response to my unspoken plea, Rafe’s voice comes over our comms a moment after. “One down. Moving in for backup.”
I nearly sag in relief. Three tangos dealt with. That means two men left unaccounted for. Hopefully, only one of them is the enemy, and the other is Malik.
As planned, Ace hurries down the darkened hallway, and I follow. There are three doors ahead of us: two on the right, one on the left. All of them are closed.
Ace kicks in the first door to reveal an empty bathroom. It’s dirty. Water stained. Ragged towels hang from nails on one wall. A sliver of soap sits on the edge of the sink, and beside it, a roll of gauze.
Moving on from the bathroom, we continue down the hallway. Ace jerks his head to the left, indicating he’ll check that room first. I angle my head to the right, indicating my intent to check the room opposite.
Ace frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of me going into a room on my own. But he knows we have to do it this way. The alternative would mean both of us going into a room together, leaving our backs exposed to anyone in the other.
In unison, we both turn to kick our respective doors in.