Mason
“Alpha 2 report, over.” Alpha 1’s voice in my comm asks from his post in the woods to the west of the cabin.
The view through the thermal scope on my MK12 hasn’t changed in the last hour. The small cabin in the woods is just close enough to the Oregon coast for easy access to boats in the dead of night, and far enough into the forest to be hidden in the trees and overgrowth.
Cold drizzle is collecting on everything and sounds of water dripping echo around me as I do a visual sweep of the cabin and the clearing that disappears into the trees around it.
“No change, one guard sitting next to the front door and one standingat the rear. Over.”
Intel is that the girls will be delivered here tonight for pickup by the fishing boat anchored not far from shore. We’re not sure, but it was reported that other girls are being held in the cabin to catch the boat with those we were hired to retrieve.
The girls’ father hired us after they were taken from their home two days ago while he and his wife were at a dinner party delivering a speech in his bid for state senator. They came home late that night and his wife wanted to check in and give them a goodnight kiss, but their beds were empty.
With the security around the sprawling mansion he bought with bribe money, he couldn’t believe anyone could even broach the perimeter. I firmly believe that what goes around comes around and his crooked political dealings are coming back to bite him in the ass.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think for one second that those girls deserve what is happening to them right now, I won’t have any issue with putting a bullet in the head of each of these mother fuckers down there, but when you swim with sharks nothing is off the table.
Not even children when you piss off the wrong person.
His daughters are only twelve and fourteen and this probably won’t be the last time attempts will be made to get to him through them. What makes my blood boil is that this happens to hundreds, if not thousands, of girls just like them daily, they just don’t have parents with the resources to get them back.
Headlights light up the trees around the house as a small older model, four-wheel drive, double-cab truck appears on the narrow dirt road that curves back into the forest. I keep my focus on the guard at the front of the cabin.
“Showtime.” Alpha 3’s growly voice comes through my comm.
Everything on this mission has gone as planned, but mygut is telling me that something is wrong.
My training in the Special Forces and then Delta Force prepared me for this type of situation. Our team has been on many successful retrieval missions, everything has gone as planned, but I’ve learned to listen to my gut, and I have a bad feeling.
Since before we even hiked into these woods, my skin has been crawling. That feeling is often associated with my twin sister, Marley, but I just spoke with her on the phone yesterday and everything back home was fine. My instincts are on high alert as I keep the guard on the porch secure in my crosshairs.
“Alpha 5 report, over.” Alpha 1 is in my ear again.
“I’ve got a good visual on the truck, we’re in position about four yards south of the cabin. Over.”
“10-4.” Says Alpha 1.
The truck stops next to the small porch and the guard on the porch stands when the truck doors open. Two guys step out and sling rifles across their backs before they open the two back doors of the double cab to pull out two small girls.
Bags are hanging over their heads and their hands are tied in front of them. They are barefoot and still in pajamas in the freezing cold and drizzle. My heart sinks for them and I keep my sight on the guard with his rifle in his hands.
Two crouched figures in black silently move up each side of the truck behind the two men pushing the girls and they grab their heads to snap their necks. At the same time, I put a bullet in the head of the guy on the front porch, the only sound is of the three bodies crumpling to the ground.
Keeping my sights on the house as Alpha 1 and Alpha 3 pick up the girls to back away, three other shadows move into the house like ghosts.
It doesn’t take long before I hear Alpha 4, “House is secure, we’re bringing out four more girls. Over.”
“That’s a good copy.”
It takes several hours to wrap things up and get the girls to a safe place before we board our private jet to go back to Tennessee where our home base is. There are six more guys on the team with me, the mood is usually solemn after we see what happens to children every day out there, in the wild, under our noses.
“I wish I could be a fly on the wall when the fuckers from the boat go in that cabin,” says Jax, who is Alpha 5 and also my best friend. He’s six foot two inches of a lean swimmer’s body, he came from DEVGRU when Callum poached him, and he has a real nasty attitude.
When he gets angry, he sometimes switches to speaking Serbian, his accent seems to come and go with his moods, but he won’t talk about his past. I’ve witnessed the wild, mean streak in him many times on an op, he’s the one we turn to when a little torture is needed, he enjoys it.
“No shit, lining them up against the wall with their dicks in their hands is bound to piss someone off.” Cody, who is Alpha 3, chuckles. It was his idea to set them up like that.
Just as I am about to ask about the four girls already there, my boss, Callum, also Alpha 1 and the leader of our group, appears in the doorway, “Mason, check your phone.” Something is off about his voice.
