76. Ronan
Ronan
Location: Red Three Intercept Zone — Eastern Europe
The street opens up ahead of us.
Wide. Industrial. Too open for comfort.
Red Three’s convoy marker pulses at the far end—two vehicles, armored, moving fast and wrong for civilian traffic. They aren’t hiding anymore.
Malenkov has switched from subtle to desperate.
“ETA?” I ask.
“Thirty seconds,” Lena replies. “You won’t be alone.”
I slow to a walk.
Because this is where timing matters more than speed.
Jase falls in at my left, weapon low but ready. His breathing is calm. Controlled. The kind of calm that only comes when you know your people are closing in.
The first familiar shape ghosts out of an alley to our right.
Aaron.
He doesn’t announce himself. Just appears, eyes already tracking angles, rifle coming up like it’s always been there.
“Miss me?” he mutters.
“Never doubted you,” I answer.
Another shadow breaks off the rooftops ahead—Miles, dropping light, precise, scanning downrange before his boots even settle.
“Convoy’s heavier than expected,” he says. “But not smarter.”
Then the hum overhead—
The helicopter flares just once, far enough away not to draw fire, and Jase lifts his chin as the last piece slides into place.
Delta Five.
Whole.
Together.
The convoy roars closer now—engines snarling, confidence bleeding through speed. They think they’re breaking through a gap.
They don’t realize the gap closed while they were accelerating.
“Positions,” I say quietly.
No echo. No repetition.
They’re already moving.
Aaron ghosts left, cutting off retreat. Miles takes elevation, rifle settling into overwatch. Jase angles right, forcing the convoy into the kill funnel I’ve already measured.
I step into the open.
Deliberate.
Visible.
The lead vehicle brakes hard.
Too late.
“Now,” I say.
The world explodes into motion.
Tires scream. Gunfire cracks sharp and precise—not spray, not panic. Delta Five fires like one organism, every round intentional.
The lead vehicle loses its engine first. Miles’ shot punches through the block. Smoke billows.
The second vehicle tries to swerve—
Aaron drops the driver.
It slams into a concrete barrier and shudders to a stop.
Silence falls hard.
I advance, weapon up, heart steady.
Doors burst open.
Men spill out—confused, shouting, reaching for weapons they never get to raise.
Jase moves like gravity—unstoppable, unavoidable.
It’s over in seconds.
I stand at the center of it, scanning for movement, threats, anything that still breathes with intent.
Nothing.
“Red Three neutralized,” Lena says softly. “All Black Crown nodes are dark.”
I let the words settle.
All of them.
Aaron exhales slowly. “That was it.”
“Yes,” I say.
But Malenkov isn’t done.
Not yet.
Because men like him don’t stop when they lose.
They stop when they’re exposed.
I look at my team—dusty, bruised, lethal, alive.
“Delta Five,” I say. “Regroup. We’re not chasing ghosts anymore.”
Jase smirks faintly. “We’re hunting the man.”
Exactly.
Somewhere out there, Malenkov is watching his contingency die in real time.
And now—
He knows something else.
We’re not fractured.
We’re not reacting.
We’re not afraid.
We’re back together.
And that’s the one thing he never planned for.