“Alpha One is in place and set.”
The other three teams replied. Time for shock and awe and the overwhelming might of the US Navy SEALs. These assholes weren’t ready for what was coming for them. As much as I wanted to exact revenge on every motherfucker in this godforsaken building, Adam had to be my priority.
“EXECUTE! EXECUTE! EXECUTE!” rang through my comms unit.
I turned my back to the blasting charge Carson had set on the wall. The blast made my body shudder, but I pushed it out of my mind as I infiltrated the building.
I scanned the room. Screams filtered through the building, muffled by the walls. One of the screams stood out. I’d have known that voice even if he hadn’t screamed my name.
Adam!
Gunfire cracked off in several directions, but the shots were in the distance. The teams at the doors were expecting heavy fire. The rounds, like the screaming, were muffled by the walls.
I signaled to Carson and Foster and filed in behind Carson as he took point. They were engaged in a firefight at both entry points. The attacks on the doors seemed to be doing their jobs. They were pulling the fighting to them.
I could hear the other breaching teams on my comms. As much as I wanted to rush to their aid, Adam was my priority. Our job was to get to him.
Every step I took, I prayed. I begged. I pleaded. Coming in hot was a risk, but there really wasn’t any other way. If Adam’s captors wanted, they could end Adam’s life before we got them. That was my worst fear. That I was this fucking close, and I might still lose him.
Breaching a building was organized chaos. It didn’t matter how much you planned. Our plan was to make entry and go left. The north team was to go right. That was the plan, but as Moltke said, a battle plan never survives first contact with the enemy. That had been drilled into our heads during our training.
We inched along the hallway. As we reached the door we thought Adam was behind, I could hear several voices on the other side of the wall. Harsh, guttural Arabic shouting floated toward us.
Kill him!
They were ordering someone to be killed. It had to be Adam.
Foster ordered, “Go!”
Carson nodded, then yelled, “FLASH OUT!”
He tossed the flash-bang into the room, and entered, his M4 raised. Shots rang out from his and Foster’s weapons as they dropped the guys in the room who’d pulled guns on us.
I scanned for Adam.
When I found him, my guts dropped to my feet. A tango had him pulled up tight against his chest, using him as a shield. I couldn’t tell if he had a gun shoved into Adam’s back or not.
I searched, but my heart and soul couldn’t decide what emotion I should be feeling.
Adam was in bad shape. Completely naked. He was black and blue, bleeding from several locations. He had at least two bullet wounds. I didn’t know if he could even see. His eyes were so swollen.
The tango holding Adam peeked out from behind him, but I couldn’t get a fucking shot. Out of the corner of my eye,I noticed Foster circling toward the left. I could hear Carson behind us, guarding the door.
In Arabic, I ordered, “Daeh yadhhab.”
The man squeezed Adam’s body to him tighter, pulling a knife from somewhere.
“Brock?”
The sound of my name on his lips was so fucking beautiful.
“Yeah,” I responded.
Adam’s voice was so fucking weak. Pushing that thought from my mind, I kept staring at him and the guy holding him hostage. I watched Adam’s demeanor shift slightly. The doom and gloom lifted just a bit.
“Try Urdu…” Adam choked out as the asshat behind him tightened his arm across Adam’s throat.
I did as suggested. My Urdu was rusty as fuck, but the guy responded this time, telling me to fuck off. Basically.
