Chapter 10 Final Preparations #2
Mara was quiet for a long moment. She thought about lying.
About deflecting. About keeping whatever was happening in her chest locked down where it couldn't complicate things.
But Nadia had earned honesty. They'd been running operations together for six years.
Had saved each other's lives more times than either could count.
If anyone deserved the truth, it was her.
"I can't stop seeing his face," Mara said quietly. "Can't stop hearing his voice. Can't stop thinking about the way he looked at me right before I ran. Like he'd already made peace with what was about to happen. Like he'd decided I was worth dying for."
"You just met him."
"I know."
"In the middle of a firefight."
"I know that too."
"And now you're risking everything to go back for him."
"Yes."
Nadia studied her. "You don't even know his real name."
"Doesn't matter." Mara picked up the rifle again, started reassembling it with practiced efficiency. "Something happened in that compound. Something I don't have words for. And I need to know if it was real or just adrenaline and chaos."
"What if it was just adrenaline and chaos?"
"Then I'll know. And I can stop seeing his face every time I close my eyes."
"And if it wasn't?"
Mara didn't answer that. Couldn't answer it. Because she didn't know what happened if the pull she'd felt in that compound turned out to be real. Didn't know what it meant that a man she'd known for thirty seconds had gotten under her skin in a way no one else had managed in nine years.
Nadia pushed off from the workbench. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. Not because of whatever's going on in your head about him. But because leaving people behind isn't who we are. And if there's a chance we can get him out alive, we have to try."
"Thanks."
"But Mara? When we find him, when you see him again, you're going to have to figure out what this is. Because you can't run operations with your head somewhere else. That gets people killed."
"I know."
"Good. Now finish checking that rifle for the fourth time and get some rest. We've got a long flight ahead of us."
Nadia left. Mara finished with the rifle, then moved on to her sidearm. Then her tactical knife. Then her communications gear. Checking everything twice because Nadia was right. She couldn't afford to be distracted. Couldn't afford to let whatever was happening in her chest compromise the mission.
But she couldn't stop seeing his eyes either.
Four hours later, the team gathered on the tarmac.
The chartered aircraft waited, engines already running.
Reese had filed a flight plan that would take them to Turkey through routes that avoided commercial airspace and military radar.
The kind of flying that required skill and nerves and a willingness to bend aviation regulations until they almost broke.
Harper was there to see them off, along with the support staff who kept L'Abri S?r running when the operational teams were in the field.
They'd taken over care of Amira and Karim, making sure the woman and her son had everything they needed while Shadow Veil went back to Iraq for the second time in a week.
Mara stood at the base of the aircraft stairs and looked back at the compound.
At the home they'd built. At the sanctuary that had kept them safe for nine years.
If this went wrong, if they didn't come back, Harper would keep it running.
Would keep rescuing victims and providing safe harbor.
The work would continue even if they didn't.
But they were coming back. All of them. Including one Delta Force operator who'd bought them time with his own blood.
"You ready?" Sloane asked.
Mara turned and climbed the stairs. "Let's go get him."
The flight was long. Eleven hours over the Atlantic and the Mediterranean and finally Turkish airspace where Reese brought them down at a private airfield that didn't ask questions and didn't keep records.
They transferred to ground vehicles that Winter had arranged through contacts who specialized in providing transportation for people who needed to move through borders without official documentation.
The drive to the Iraqi border took four hours. The crossing took another hour of careful navigation through routes that avoided official checkpoints and government oversight. By the time they reached the staging area twenty kilometers from the target site, it was 2200 local time.
Four hours until insertion.
Mara checked her gear for the fifth time. Weapons. Ammunition. Medical supplies. Communications equipment. Everything ready. Everything perfect. Because perfect was the only acceptable standard when you were about to breach a fortified building to rescue someone who might already be dead.
Her radio crackled. Hawk's voice, calm and professional despite the tension. "Delta Six to Shadow Veil. We're in position. Ready to move on your mark."
Mara keyed her radio. "Shadow Veil copies. We move in three hours. Time hack on my mark. Three, two, one, mark."
Both teams synchronized their watches. Three hours until they kicked down doors and found out if Quinn's intelligence was right. Three hours until Mara saw Steele again and figured out if the connection she'd felt was real or just trauma and chaos.
Three hours until everything either worked or fell apart.
The team settled into the waiting. That special kind of stillness that came before operations when you'd done everything you could and now you just had to trust the planning and the training and the people beside you.
Nadia checked her weapons. Kira organized her medical kit. Winter confirmed vehicle positions. Sloane monitored communications traffic looking for any sign that Nazari's network knew they were coming.
And Mara stared at the map showing the route to the target building and thought about dark eyes and a calm voice and the choice she'd made three days ago that had led to this moment.
Her radio crackled again. Ghost's voice this time. "Communication intercept. Nazari's people are moving the prisoner in six hours. Transfer to Syria. If we're doing this, it has to be tonight."
Six hours. They had a six-hour window before Steele disappeared into Syrian custody and became impossible to recover. The timeline had just gotten tighter. The margin for error had just gotten smaller.
But the mission hadn't changed. Get in. Get Steele. Get out. Simple. Clean. Professional.
Except nothing about this felt simple. Nothing about the way her pulse kicked up when she thought about seeing him again felt professional. And nothing about the risk they were taking felt clean.
But they were doing it anyway.
Because Shadow Veil didn't leave people behind. Because Delta Force didn't abandon their own. Because sometimes the right thing and the smart thing weren't the same and you had to choose which one mattered more.
Mara stood and gathered the team. "We move in two hours. Final equipment check. Final comms check. Final medical check. When we breach that building, I want everyone sharp and ready. We get Steele out. We get home. No mistakes. No hesitation. No one gets left behind."
The team nodded. Faces hard. Eyes focused. Ready.
Two hours later, they loaded into the vehicles and headed toward Mosul.
Toward the building where Quinn's intelligence said a Delta Force operator was waiting.
Toward the moment when Mara would either confirm that the connection she'd felt was real or discover it had been nothing but smoke and chaos.
Either way, she was about to find out.
The night was dark. The roads were empty. And somewhere ahead, in a basement twelve kilometers outside Mosul, a man named Steele was running out of time.
But rescue was coming. Two teams. Thirteen operators. All of them willing to risk everything to bring one man home.
The vehicles rolled through the Iraqi night. Silent. Determined. Carrying people who'd decided that some things were worth dying for.
And tonight, one Delta Force operator's life was at the top of that list.
Mosul, Iraq Same Time
Steele had lost track of time somewhere between the third beating and when they'd finally cut the zip ties long enough to let him collapse onto a thin mattress in the corner.
No windows. No natural light. Just the bare bulb that stayed on constantly, a form of torture in itself.
His body's circadian rhythm was shot. Could be morning.
Could be afternoon. Could be the middle of the night.
He'd decided it was the second day based on the two meals they'd brought.
Flatbread and water. Barely enough to keep him conscious but enough to keep him valuable.
The door opened and Steele's muscles tensed instinctively despite the pain that lanced through his ribs.
Two guards entered first, the same ones who'd worked him over yesterday.
Behind them came someone new. Older man.
Glasses. Carrying a leather medical bag that looked older than Steele.
Then Nazari. Clean suit. Fresh cologne. Like he'd just come from a business meeting instead of an interrogation.
"Sit him up," Nazari ordered in English.
The guards hauled Steele up by his good arm and propped him against the wall.
The movement sent fire through his broken ribs and he couldn't suppress the grunt that escaped.
His broken arm hung useless at his side, swollen and discolored.
The shrapnel wound in his leg had stopped bleeding but the infection was getting worse.
He could feel the heat radiating from it even through the fog of pain.
Nazari gestured to the older man. "This is Dr. Khalil. He will tend to your injuries."
Steele looked at him through his one eye that wasn't swollen shut. "Why?"