“Six, cover me!” he roared, charging forward.
Before El Pastor could make his exit, Rowan closed the distance and the world became a blur of motion. In seconds, he lunged, tackling the fucker to the ground, their bodies crashing against the splintered wooden floorboards.
El Pastor twisted like a contained beast, swinging a fist toward Rowan’s head. Rowan ducked and spun, the movement fluid, a well-rehearsed dance of combat honed over years of training. He grappled with the man, the two rolling over each other as they fought for dominance.
A sharp elbow connected with Rowan’s gut, forcing air from his lungs, but he tightened his grip, locking his opponent’s wrist hard against the floor and positioning his knee on his chest. “You’re not going anywhere, asshole,” he snarled through gritted teeth.
El Pastor twisted again, a wild, feral look in his eye, and Rowan felt the weight of desperation fueling him. He kicked his legs, aiming for Rowan’s knees, but he was prepared. He swiftly brought a fist down onto El Pastor’s jaw, the impact ringing like a war drum.
“We’re done here,” He growled, ignoring the pain as he maneuvered, shifting his body weight to keep El Pastor pinned. With a surge of determination, he pulled back his fist, readying for a decisive blow. But as he leaned in, El Pastor’s foot founda weak spot, kicking out hard, and sending Rowan stumbling sideways.
El Pastor surged to his feet, eyes wild with rage, and swiped at Rowan’s throat with a knife, his arm flicking out from his waistband. Rowan dodged just in time, his instincts kicking in as he reclaimed the defensive stance, circling in a quick rhythm with his opponent.
“Are you really that desperate to die?” El Pastor spat, breathing heavily. Rowan could see the hunger for survival in the man’s eyes—a rabid animal cornered, desperate and dangerous.
“Desperate to end you,” He shot back, lunging forward. He tackled El Pastor back to the ground. This was about more than just the mission; it was personal as it got.
They struggled as they wrestled for the knife, El Pastor’s grip fierce, but Rowan was relentless. He drove his weight down, finally overriding the desperate flailing that sought to escape him. With a sudden surge of strength, Rowan twisted the blade from El Pastor’s hand and tossed it aside.
“Time’s up,” Rowan muttered, gritting his teeth. He pinned El Pastor’s arm behind his back, inching closer, feeling the weight of the man beneath him with every measured breath they shared. With one swift move, he leaned down, whispering the words that had been building since he had stormed into that godforsaken compound. “You lose, asshole.” He slammed his fist into El Pastor’s face, over and over, with a fury that surged from deep within, a vengeance that transcended the mission. Each punch was a reminder of the pain his brother had endured, and the tears his woman had shed.
“Finish that shit, Boss,” Titan urged. “The boom bus will be here in a few, and neither of us wants to be in here when that happens.”
“Coming.” He wrapped his arm around El Pastor’s neck and, with a sharp twist and a sickening crack, ended him. “Swab him, and anyone else we pass on the way out.”
“Seahorse One. Damn it, boss, don’t make me come over there. Status report, STAT.” Theo’s voice sliced through the heaviness, grounding him back to the reality of the mission.
“Tell my brother his boogeyman is no more. Target down.” His voice was a little unsteady with the adrenaline still buzzing in his bloodstream. “We’re good to extract. Let’s get out of this hellhole.”
With a final glance back at El Pastor, Rowan felt a flicker of closure settle within him. He had avenged his brother and Enya; maybe now they would reclaim their lives, and the horrors that haunted their dreams might fade. “Let’s move.” Urgency rode him hard, and the moment he stepped back into the courtyard, he felt the weight of the mission ease.
“Regroup!” he yelled over the din, scanning the courtyard for his team. He spotted Dawsyn and Calloway moving toward the exit. Jericho and Bronx were closing in, providing cover fire as they dashed from the building, adrenaline still pulsing through their veins.
“Move, move, move!” Rowan barked, pushing them away from the compound’s heart, weaving them through the debris-littered courtyard. Behind him, the echoes of life and death radiated, and gunfire synchronized with the thud of their boots pounding against the earth.
“M-TOC, we are outside, clear of the building!” Bronx confirmed, his weapon still at the ready, eyes darting for any lurking threats.
“Copy, Seahorse, get to the extraction point ASAP,” Theo’s voice crackled over their comms. “We’ve got a JDAM inbound to wipe the site. ETA three minutes.”
“Let’s move!” Rowan shouted, pushing them into a relentless march away from the rising chaos of the compound.
They hurried through a narrow gully lit by sporadic flashes of gunfire that flickered behind them. Their destination was a clearing just beyond the compound, where the helo would be waiting. Each step took them farther from the firestorm, closer to freedom.
“Gonna feel good to get out of here, right?” Dawsyn gasped, the pain evident in his voice but overshadowed by his will to keep pushing.
“Damn straight,” Rowan replied as he kept pace, adrenaline fueling their escape, the need for survival overriding the weariness threatening to slow him down.
The hot wind picked up behind them, a low rumble echoing in the distance. Rowan glanced over his shoulder one last time, the compound silhouetted against the horizon—a dark specter of their fight. The urgency in Theo’s voice echoed in his mind; the clock was ticking. “Go, go, go!” he urged his men faster toward the clearing with every ounce of strength he had left.
They burst into the open, the clearing stark and vulnerable under an expansive sky. The sound of the helicopter blades thumping in the distance grew louder, the machines of extraction echoing the promises of escape.
“LZ’s hot; move to the chopper.” Jericho took the lead as thewhoop-whoopof the helo’s blades washed them with a down blast of rotorwash. Rowan pushed his legs harder, muscles screaming, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
They reached the helo just as the pilot yelled for them to board. “Get in. Come on, ladies, this ain’t the fucking mall. Get your asses in.”
Ensuring his team and Mikey were on the helo, Rowan scrambled in, slamming the door shut as the bird started to climb.
The chopper lurched upward, gaining altitude as it propelled them away from the chaos unfolding below.
