She couldn’t see how they were going to get them out alive.
Noah didn’t hesitate. “Cal, Garrett—you take the Brotherhood. If you can, toss a flashbang into that building. Disorient them, buy us a few seconds. Jackson, Avery, Isla—you move on the bunker, get those hostages clear.”
Cal kept watching the monitor. “That might be a problem.”
Noah frowned. “Why?”
Cal zoomed in again. The screen pulsed with new movement, one heat source stepping forward from the group inside. “Because one of them’s carrying something heavy. Long-barreled, shoulder height.” He swore quietly. “Looks like a fucking grenade launcher.”
“Hell,” Jackson muttered, the word sharp and low.
The rain fell harder, whispering through the trees like static.
It just kept getting worse.
Avery’s pulse pounded in her ears. Every breath she took burned. They were surrounded by armed men, the hostages were seconds from execution, and now the Brotherhood had explosives in play.
Rain dripped from the trees, the air thick and cold enough to taste. Avery’s pulse thrummed in her throat as the team huddled close around the flickering glow of Cal’s monitor onelast time. The heat signatures hadn’t moved much—Megan and Riley were still crouched in the corner of the bunker, the armed figure pacing nearby. But the cluster behind them—the Brotherhood—was shifting. Organizing.
Noah’s voice was low, controlled, the tone of a man used to giving orders on the edge of disaster. “Garrett, Cal—hold off on the flashbang until Isla reaches the bunker entrance. We need this timed perfectly.”
Cal nodded, his expression set. “Copy that.”
Noah continued, eyes sweeping across the group. “The Brotherhood has to be contained at the exact moment we pull the hostages. If we hit them too early, they’ll kill Riley and Megan before we get close.”
The weight of his words settled hard in Avery’s gut. One mistake, one mistimed move, and Riley and Megan were dead.
Noah turned to Isla next. “You’re going in first. Stick to the route Riley gave. When you reach the slab, if you’ve got a clear shot on the kidnapper—take it. Don’t hesitate.”
Isla’s jaw flexed. She gave a short nod, rain running down her hood. “Understood.”
Avery’s breath caught. The idea of Isla walking up to that bunker alone made her skin crawl. Every instinct screamed that the Brotherhood was watching, waiting for the bait to step into view.
Noah looked to the rest of them. “Jackson, Avery—you’re right behind her. Stay low, stay silent. Once she’s inside, we move. Extraction first, containment second.”
Jackson gave a curt nod, eyes dark, and reached out to steady Avery’s shoulder before they split. “You stay close,” he murmured. “No hero moves.”
She almost smiled, almost, but the air around them was too tight for that. “You first,” she whispered back.
Then they were moving.
Cal and Garrett peeled off to the left, vanishing into the trees, their shapes swallowed by rain and darkness. The sound of wet leaves under boots was the only sign they’d ever been there.
Isla stepped forward along the narrow trail toward the ridge. The faint light from the overcast sky painted her in shifting gray, her figure almost ghostlike as she descended toward the bunker.
Avery followed, her heart thundering in her chest. Jackson moved beside her, every movement controlled, gun steady. Noah brought up the rear, a shadow among shadows.
Through the trees, the faint outline of the concrete slab emerged, a darker patch in the earth, slick with rain. The entrance to the bunker. The place where two terrified hostages waited for rescue.
The air was electric now, every sense on edge. Avery could feel the storm pressing closer, the charged stillness before everything broke loose.
One wrong move and the entire Brotherhood would know they were here.
She gripped her weapon tighter and kept her eyes on Isla’s back.
The operation had begun.
And if they mistimed this by even a second, it wouldn’t be a rescue. It would be a massacre.