Below, the lead RCMP SUV eased off the dirt road, lights off, then pulled into shadow just outside the line of trees. Breakneck tracked it without thinking, the motion automatic, part of the same internal map that never left him. He watched Blair climb out, black tac pants hugging her long legs, vest snug over her shirt, dark hair pulled back in a practical tail that still managed to make his chest tight. Beef joined her, keyed up and trying not to show it.
The SEALs spilled from the second vehicle, Tier 1 violence wrapped in harnesses and matte metal. Ice, calm and lethal. Boomer, bulk and explosives, and Kodiak, all steely eyes and purpose, started for the northern edge of the compound, keeping down and out of sight of any possible eyes, focused on neutralizing the two guards and the pit.
Skull emerged with Bones’s leash wrapped around his hand, the dog’s ears up, body quivering with eager attention, and Blair swung around, heading for the front gate, their objective the guards. He moved his scope toward the garage bay again. No movement, but that situation was fluid.
He made a finite adjustment back to Blair, her presence heavy on him. His hands clenched around the rifle. This was the kind of situation he’d trained for, multiple targets, multiple teammates, and him their shield.
Carver and Jones stayed at the third SUV, exactly where Breakneck expected they would, leaning on the hood like they were part of this. He didn’t feel one way or the other about them, but Carver hated Ice’s guts. That was worth watching. They were the kind of variable he disliked most, the kind that were the cowboys of the federal government.
Ice signaled west. “Beef, with me. Fence line. Move.”
Breakneck slid forward, rifle already sweeping. “Overwatch set. I’ve got eyes,” he said, tracking movement through glass and shadow as they advanced below him.
Two guards near the north perimeter. One posted loose, weight on his back foot. The other patrolled alert and menacing. The dog circled wide, nose down, tugging against its lead.
Break logged it all. Angles, distances, and timing as Ice, Beef, Boomer, and Kodiak moved along the west fence line, crouched and efficient. Ice and Beef stopped, Beef producing wire cutters. He started on the fence as Boomer and Kodiak slipped past them, settling in to take out the northern threat.
“Boomer,” Ice said quietly.
Boomer’s voice came over the comm. “In position. On your mark, boss.”
“Execute.”
The guards dropped almost simultaneously, silent, efficient. The dog went down between them, no sound carrying beyond the fence line.
“Two guards and dog down,” Boomer reported. He and Kodiak ghosted along the fence, hidden in the thick foliage there. Boomer got to work. After thirty seconds, he said, “Fence cut. Standing by for collapse on your order, Ice.”
Breakneck kept his scope steady, already searching for secondary movement as Ice and Beef entered the compound through the cut fence. “Copy that. Boomer and Kodiak move to my POS. Break, overwatch, waiting on Skull and Brown.”
Break swept his scope to the fire pit. One of the guys had wandered back toward the main building, leaving three. They were still laughing and joking.
Now that the north was secure, it was time to execute the southern part of the plan.
Ice’s voice cut in, hard with intent. “Overwatch, take out the roof sentry on my mark. Skull and Brown, down those guards.”
Breakneck was already there, tracking him through the scope, letting the rhythm settle. The sentry paused at the edge of the roofline, rifle at the ready.
Breakneck narrowed his world. Automatic. Precise. Calm.
The forest fell away. The compound faded. There was only glass, breath, and the steady weight of the rifle anchored into the dirt. He’d been managing his body since he hit the ridge, breathing deep, slow, ribs protesting and ignored, waiting for the natural pause after the exhale. The stillest moment there was.
The reticle floated steady, etched lines and reference points framing the sentry’s forehead like a solved equation as he waited for the order, his world stilling in a natural pause. Adrenaline sharpened everything. He held it on a leash, refusing the tremor, the tunnel vision, the rush that ruined lesser shooters.
“Execute,” Ice said.
Breakneck exhaled, found the pause, pulled, slow, and steady, the trigger breaking as a surprise. No flinch. No anticipation of recoil.
The rifle bucked once, the suppressed crack swallowed by distance.
The sentry folded backward, disappearing from the roofline, weapon clattering once before going still.
“Roof is clear,” Breakneck said quietly, already lifting his scope, already hunting for the next threat.
“Hitting gate,” Blair said. The gate guards went down without a sound. “We’re clear.”
“Confirmed,” Ayla replied. “No new external movement except for the pit.”
He watched Ice, Beef, Boomer and Kodiak take a position at the outbuilding. “Copy,” Ice answered. “Holding for garage clear.”
