The assault team assembled on a fishing boat two kilometers off the target island.
Thirty-two men in total—a mix of Chernov soldiers who'd arrived from Athens, Greek special forces operating off the books, and private military contractors who asked no questions as long as the money was good. They were armed with automatic weapons, breaching charges, night-vision equipment. A small army assembled in under an hour.
It still didn't feel like enough.
I stood at the bow, watching the island through binoculars. The old shipping facility hulked against the darkening sky—concrete and steel, brutalist architecture from another era. Lights glowed in some windows. Guards patrolled the perimeter. They knew we were coming, or at least suspected.
It didn't matter. I would tear through every one of them to reach her.
"Tactical assessment," said Marcos, the Greek special forces commander I'd worked with before. "Two entry points—main door and service entrance on the east side. Perimeter guards—I count eight, maybe ten. Interior unknown. They'll have her in the most defensible position, probably the central structure."
"I go in first."
"Mr. Chernov, with respect—"
"I go in first." I turned to face him, and whatever he saw in my eyes made him step back. "Your men cover the perimeter, secure the exits. No one leaves that island alive except her. Anyone who gets in my way dies."
Marcos exchanged a glance with his lieutenant, then nodded. "Understood."
We approached from the east, using the rocky coastline for cover. The guards never saw us coming—or if they did, they didn't see us for long. Silenced weapons dropped three of them before an alarm could be raised. By the time the others realized what was happening, we were already inside the perimeter.
The first man I killed personally was guarding the service entrance.
He was young—mid-twenties, nervous, cigarette trembling in his fingers. He saw me emerge from the shadowsand fumbled for his weapon. Too slow. I was on him before he could raise it, my knife sliding between his ribs, my hand clamping over his mouth to muffle his scream.
"Where is she?" I breathed against his ear. "The woman. Where?"
His eyes were wide with terror. He pointed toward the central building, toward a door marked with Armenian symbols.
I twisted the knife and let him fall.
The interior was a maze of corridors and empty rooms, concrete walls sweating moisture, fluorescent lights flickering overhead. I moved through it like a ghost, like a predator, every sense tuned to the sounds and smells of the men hunting for me as I hunted for them.
I killed four more before I reached the central hall.
The first, I shot through the throat when he stepped around a corner. The second, I caught from behind, snapping his neck with a brutal twist before he could cry out. The third and fourth were together, playing cards in what had once been a break room. They died before the cards hit the floor.
Each kill was mechanical. Efficient. I felt nothing—no satisfaction, no rage, no hesitation. They were obstacles between Gabrielle and me. Nothing more.
The gunfire started when I reached the main corridor.
Someone had finally raised the alarm. Bullets chewed through the walls around me, and I dove for cover, returning fire with controlled bursts. Two more men down. Three. The contractors were breaching from the other side now, the sound of their assault echoing through the facility.
I pushed forward through the chaos, stepping over bodies, ignoring the burn of a bullet that grazed my shoulder. Pain didn't matter. Nothing mattered except reaching her.
The corridor ended at a heavy steel door. Reinforced. Locked.
I placed a breaching charge and stepped back.
The explosion tore through the hinges, and I was through before the smoke cleared.
The room beyond was large—some kind of former control center, banks of dead monitors lining the walls. And there, at the center, lit by a single hanging bulb—
Gabrielle.
She was bound to a chair, her hands behind her back, her face bruised where someone had struck her. But she was alive. Her eyes found mine across the room, and I saw the terror in them transform into something else.
Hope.
