He forced himself to breathe in a slow, measured rhythm like he had been trained.
Focus, Nikos. You can’t save him if you lose your focus.
“Visual,” he murmured into the comm mic. “Target acquired. Center of the compound.”
A whisper of gravel signaled Lucas slithering closer on his belly. “I see him.”
Nikos adjusted his scope and cursed under his breath. “That’s not all. There’s someone else with him—another hostage.”
Lucas exhaled slowly. “Civvie?”
“Looks like it. White shirt, tan cargo pants, no gear. What the hell is a civilian doing here?” Cole cursed.
Lucas didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tensed. “Makes the mission twice as risky.”
Nikos didn’t argue. They weren’t equipped for a full-scale rescue op—not with a second unknown factor. This was a surgical extraction.
He looked up as Angel tapped twice on the comm. Nikos followed the signal and froze.
A new player had entered the ring.
A tall mercenary strode into the courtyard, dragging a girl behind him by the arm. She stumbled, falling hard onto her knees in the dirt beside the frame.
“Jesus,” Lucas hissed. “She’s just a kid.”
The merc yanked her upright by her hair, wrenching her head back to bare her throat. The girl didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. Just clenched her fists, her shoulders stiff.
Angel’s voice crackled through the comm. “I’ve got the shot.”
“No,” Nikos snapped. “You take that shot, they’ll put a bullet in the hostages before his body hits the ground.”
Lucas grimaced. “There could be more. We haven’t cleared the north side where their trucks are parked.”
The merc released the girl, growling something in her ear that made her eyes flash with fury. She stood—slowly, defiantly—and walked toward the frame, toward Markos and the other man.
“What’s she doing?” Nikos muttered. He reached for his secondary weapon. “Get into position. Angel, take the shot if he makes a move on Markos. Only then.”
“Copy that.”
Below them, the merc lifted a pistol and aimed it at the girl’s head when the girl placed her hand on Markos’s leg. The girl must have said or done something that angered him. Angel fired when the man turned his gun on Markos.
The man’s skull exploded backward.
Even as Nikos released a low, savage curse, a deafening blast tore through the far side of the compound. The floodlights blew in a burst of sparks. Darkness swallowed the courtyard.
“Go loud!” Nikos ordered. “Lucas, cover me!”
He was already moving, vaulting over the ridge, sand and gravel shifting beneath his boots as he charged downhill. A cacophony of shouts and bullets surrounded him as he veered toward the center of the camp, his heartpounding.
Markos, hold on, brother. We’ve got you.
He skidded to a halt in front of the A-frame—only to find it empty. The jagged remains of a coarse rope dipped in blood were all that was left. The frayed edges dangled from the wood where they had been cut.
“What the?—”
Markos. The girl. The civilian. All three were gone.
Gunfire chewed into the surrounding dirt. He dove, rolled, and came up behind a half-collapsed stone wall. Dirt and pieces of rock shattered around him, peppering him with bits of debris.
