The announcement had the effect of a bucket of cold water dumped over his head.
“Fuck me,” Scar grated.
Chairs began to push back, drinks were abandoned, and dances cut off mid-step as people began to head back to their departments, going from wedding guests to disciplined assets.
Gage stood, cane in one hand, his other clasped in Scar’s.
The Ravens began moving as one unit. Nothing that’d happened in the courtyard mattered anymore as they shifted their minds to fight.
When they reached the double doors to the War Room, Gage slid his fingers from Scar’s grip. Their love didn’t belong where they were going.
He’d braved marriage, now war was already about to test its strength.
White Ravens
Gage
The mission’s Command Center overflowed with their handlers and field teams. Jo’s staff, plus leaders of every department, from extraction, air operations, cyber, weapons to comms, satellite, and medical.
Scar sat close enough that his breath caressed the back of his neck.
The surveillance team was running audio on the recent attack on a small village in Montenegro—an overlooked, but still allied country.
Having to listen to the screams of women and cries of children through the short burst of gunfire made Gage’s shoulders draw up tight.
It was times like this he was glad he didn’t have to see the pain and destruction.
Scar leaned into him and gave him general descriptions of what was being displayed on the screen.
“It’s a church,” he said. “They’re dragging people out and taking hostages.”
Gage was clenching his jaw so hard it ached.
There was more screaming, prayers called out, men pleading for the women and children to be let go.
“What are we up against?” Ex asked.
Vance, Jo’s lead Intel officer, took over.
“A smuggling syndicate, called ??? Vukovi Bratstvo, means The Brotherhood of Wolves, originated out of the Black Forest. They’ve operated under the radar for over a decade, but they’re growing. Intaking through ports but now moving inland in an attempt to make a concealed route through deep timber territory.”
“It gets no deeper than Montenegro,” Jo’s regions chief added. “Lots of hiding ground in a town that won’t ask questions. And they hadn’t met resistance until they hit this village.”
A map flashed across the screen.
Gage’s adaptive ops liaison, Kim, slid the same map— overlaid in Braille—onto the table in front of him.
He ran his fingertips along a thin line threading through heavy green terrain. Small dots represented a few houses, and a larger block identified the church. More minimally raised symbols mapped the roads and other potential smuggling routes.
“US forces aren’t responding to this?” Mirage asked, likely voicing what Grace wanted answered.
Jo let out a low breath. “They’ll respond, but not as fast as us. The syndicate needs cooperation from the region, not the US. So these hostages may not have much time left.”
“Are we sure they’re still alive and holding?” Mirage asked.
“We got eyes on ’em from Sat 35X, that shows they’re still holding,” the satellite specialist confirmed.
“How soon can you be airborne?”
