He had forty-eight hours to prepare. Forty-eight hours to make sure he was ready for whatever they'd find when they hit that compound. Forty-eight hours before he'd be in Iraq with a chance to bring Mara home.
"Let's get to work," he said.
The team moved into action. Reviewing the compound layout. Planning entry points. Identifying likely locations where a prisoner would be held. Coordinating with ISR to get updated imagery. Building contingency plans for every scenario they could imagine.
Logan worked with an intensity that bordered on obsessive. Every detail mattered. Every variable had to be accounted for. Because this wasn't just another mission. This was Mara. This was the woman who'd come for him when she didn't have to. The woman who'd risked everything to pull him out of hell.
Risk pulled him aside that afternoon. "You need to be ready for what we might find."
"I know what we might find."
"Do you? Because right now you're operating on hope and determination. But Nazari's had her for almost two days. Two days of interrogation. Two days of whatever he does to prisoners." Risk's voice was quiet but firm. "She might be hurt. She might be traumatized. She might not be the same person you've been texting every night."
"I know that." Logan's jaw was tight. "But it doesn't change anything. We're still getting her out."
"I'm not saying we're not. I'm saying you need to prepare yourself mentally for what condition she'll be in. Because if you freeze up when you see her, if you let emotion override training,you'll get her killed. You'll get all of us killed." Risk met his eyes. "I need to know you can do this. That you can compartmentalize until we're clear."
Logan wanted to argue. Wanted to say that he'd be fine, that he could handle whatever they found. But Risk was right. Seeing Mara hurt, seeing what Nazari had done to her, that might break something in him that he couldn't afford to have broken during an operation.
"I'll hold it together," he said finally. "I'll get her out first. Fall apart after."
"Good. Because we're going to need you sharp." Risk clapped his shoulder. "She's alive, Logan. Nazari keeps prisoners alive. That's what he does. Whatever shape she's in, she's breathing. Hold onto that."
Ghost found him later in the equipment room doing a third check on his loadout. "Got updated ISR imagery. Thermal shows approximately fifteen heat signatures in the compound. Most concentrated in the main building. But there's one isolated signature in a structure on the east side. Small building. Single occupant. Could be a prisoner. Could be a guard. But it's worth noting."
Logan pulled up the imagery on Ghost's tablet. The isolated heat signature was in a building that looked like it might have been storage. Small. Away from the main activity. Exactly where you'd keep a prisoner if you wanted them isolated.
"That's her," Logan said with certainty.
"Maybe. But we can't assume. Could be anyone." Ghost enlarged the image. "But tactically, if I were holding a high-value prisoner, that's where I'd put them. Away from daily operations. Easy to guard. Defensible."
"Then that's our primary target. We secure that building first."
"Negative. Primary target is still Nazari. We can't lose sight of the mission." Ghost's tone was patient. "But we can adjust our approach to put us in position to check that building during the assault. If it's Mara, we extract her. If it's not, we continue to primary objective."
Logan nodded, forcing himself to think tactically. Nazari was the mission. Mara was the complication. But a complication they could account for if they planned properly.
The next forty-eight hours were the longest of Logan's life. Every hour felt like a day. Every minute stretched into eternity. But finally, mercifully, it was time.
Wheels up at 0400. The team loaded onto the C-17 with full combat loadout. Hawk did a final brief during the flight, going over contingencies and rules of engagement one more time. Everyone knew their role. Everyone understood the stakes.
Logan sat in the cargo bay trying to keep his mind clear. Trying not to think about what Mara might be going through. Trying to focus on the mission. On the training. On doing everything right so that when they hit that compound, they'd have the best chance of bringing her home.
Now it was his turn.
And he wasn't going to fail.
Whatever Nazari had done to her, whatever condition she was in, Logan would find her. Would get her out. Would make sure she came home safe.
That was a promise.
And Logan Reed always kept his promises.
Forty-eight hours.
Then wheels up to Iraq.
Then one way or another, Mara was coming home.
