But Mara couldn't stop seeing his eyes. Dark. Sharp even through the chaos. The kind that had looked at her and seen more than just another operator in tactical gear. The kind that had made her breath catch for half a second before training kicked back in and reminded her there was a mission to complete.
The American operator. The one she'd left bleeding behind an engine block with Nazari's men closing in.
"ETA to safe house?" she asked, voice tight.
"Twelve minutes," Nadia replied without taking her eyes off the road. "Quinn's monitoring. No pursuit detected."
No pursuit because Nazari's men had stopped to deal with the wounded American instead of following two SUVs into the darkness. Because Mara had made a tactical decision that saved Amira and Karim but left a soldier behind to buy them time with his life. Left a man whose voice she could still hear, calm and certain even while bleeding out. Go. I've got this. Like it was simple. Like dying alone in the Iraqi desert was just another problem to solve.
Her radio crackled. Quinn's voice from L'Abri Sûr, thousands of miles away but present through technology. "Mara, I'm tracking. You're clear. No heat signatures following."
"Copy," Mara said. Then, quieter: "The American. Any intel?"
A pause. Keys clicking. "Nothing yet. Checking military databases but it'll take time. Spec Ops doesn't advertise their roster."
Spec Ops. Mara had suspected. The gear. The tactics. The way he'd moved through that compound like he owned it. The controlled efficiency in every movement. The instant assessment when their eyes had met through the smoke. Professional recognition passing between them in the space of a heartbeat. Special operations. Tier one. The kind of operator who'd done this a hundred times before.
And she'd left him.
"Keep looking," Mara said. "I want to know who he is."
"Why?" Quinn asked. "We got our targets. Mission's complete."
Mara didn't answer. Because she didn't have a good answer. Because "I can't stop seeing his face" wasn't tactical. Because "something shifted when he looked at me" wasn't strategic. Because the feeling in her chest when she'd run had nothing to do with operational protocols and everything to do with the man she was leaving behind. Just a feeling in her gut that leaving anAmerican operator to be tortured and killed by an arms dealer's security force was the kind of thing that haunted you.
And she'd left him.
"Keep looking," Mara said. "I want to know who he is."
"Why?" Quinn asked. "We got our targets. Mission's complete."
Mara didn't answer. Because she didn't have a good answer. Just a feeling in her gut that leaving an American operator to be tortured and killed by an arms dealer's security force was the kind of thing that haunted you.
The safe house materialized out of darkness. Small. Isolated. Exactly what Winter had promised. Nadia pulled into the garage and killed the engine. Silence fell like a weight.
Kira helped Amira and Karim out of the vehicle. The woman was shaking now, adrenaline crash hitting hard. The boy was silent. Too silent. The way kids got when they'd learned that crying didn't help.
"Get them inside," Mara ordered. "Medical workup. Food. Clean clothes. I want full assessments on both of them."
Kira nodded and guided them toward the house. Nadia stayed with Mara in the garage, both of them standing in the dim light and processing what had just happened.
"We got them out," Nadia said finally. "That's what we came for."
"I know."
"The American knew what he was doing. He made the call. Bought us time. That's on him."
"I know that too."
"Then why do you look like you're about to do something stupid?"
Mara met her gaze. "Because leaving people behind isn't what we do."
"He's not one of ours."
"He's an American operator who got separated from his team because we were there. Because our operation overlapped with theirs. If we hadn't breached that south wall, if we hadn't been in that compound at the exact same time, maybe his team gets him out clean."
Nadia's expression shifted. "You're thinking about going back for him."
