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“Alpha Team, do you copy?”

More static, then a weak voice. “Reaper…this is Alpha Two. We’re in the basement. All nine of us are still breathing, but we’re running low on ammo and water. At least twenty hostiles between us and the exit, but they’re not acting right.”

Megan Murchison. Thank God they were all alive.

“Define ‘not acting right,’” Atticus said, signaling his team to advance to the next position.

“They’re not trying to breach our position. They’re just…waiting. Like they knew someone was coming.”

Nick’s voice came through Atticus’s earpiece. “Boss, the drone’s picking up vehicle movement three klicks north. Multiple trucks heading this way. This feels wrong.”

An explosion rocked the building to their left. Atticus’s radio crackled.

“Reaper, this is Havoc Team. We’ve got RPGs incoming from the ridge. They’re trying to box us in.”

Atticus’s eyes narrowed. They’d walked into something bigger than a simple rescue. The rebels weren’t just holding Alpha Team—they’d been waiting for the rescue attempt. Someone had leaked their plans.

“All teams, maintain positions,” Atticus ordered. “Nick, get that drone higher. I want to know what we’re really dealing with here.”

“On it.” There was a pause. “Boss, you’re not going to like this. Thermal’s showing at least sixty more fighters in those trucks. ETA four minutes.”

Sixty more. Against his team of twelve, even with superior training and technology, those weren’t odds Atticus liked.

“Reaper, we don’t have four minutes.” Murchison’s voice was urgent. “They just said something about moving us to the secondary location. It’s now or never.”

Nick appeared at the entrance to the command vehicle, his prosthetic leg covered in dust but his movements sure. “The secondary location is two hundred miles into rebel territory. We’ll never find them if they move.”

Atticus ran the calculations. His team was better trained, better equipped. They had night vision, thermal imaging, drones, and superior firepower. But they were outnumbered five to one, and reinforcements were four minutes out.

He keyed his radio. “All teams, new plan. Havoc, I need you to set charges on the north wall. Make it look like we’re breaching there. Everyone else, we’re going in through the drainage system on the east side. Nick just found it on thermal—no heat signatures.”

“Copy that, Reaper.”

“Alpha Two, sit tight. We’re coming to get you.”

“Copy. We’ll be ready.”

Nine people depending on him. Nine lives hanging in the balance.

Nick met his eyes. “It’s going to be tight.”

“It always is,” Atticus said. He checked his weapon and signaled to his team leaders. “Execute in ninety seconds.”

The explosion on the north wall lit up the night sky. Shouts erupted as rebels rushed toward the diversion. Atticus’s team moved like shadows toward the drainage entrance.

“Breaching now,” Atticus whispered into the comms.

They were committed.

And somewhere in that basement, nine of his people were counting on superior tactics and technology to bring them home alive.

Chapter Six

The Cessna Citation leveled off at cruising altitude, and Elena felt some of the tension leave her shoulders. Below them, the patchwork of Texas farmland gave way to increasingly dense suburbs as they headed east.

Brock’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression tightening.

“What is it?” Elena asked.