"Ransom," Reese said, and the single word carried the weight of understanding, the knowledge that Steele was a commodity now, something to be traded or sold or leveraged.
Quinn zoomed in on several locations. "Or leverage. I've identified three possible holding sites based on pattern-of-life analysis and known Nazari properties. All within ten kilometers of the original compound."
Mara's eyes locked on the screen. Three locations. Three chances that Steele was still alive, still breathing, still waiting for someone to come get him. The red markers on the map burned into her vision. One of those locations held the man with the dark eyes and the calm voice. The man who'd looked at her like he'd seen something worth dying for.
Sloane watched her carefully. "This is personal for you." It wasn't a question.
Mara didn't answer immediately. She thought about the way Steele had looked at her behind that overturned SUV. The way he'd made her choose. The way something had shifted in that moment that had nothing to do with tactics and everything to do with the pull she'd felt when their eyes met. The way she couldn't stop thinking about him even though she didn't know his name.
"He helped us," she said finally. "Whether he meant to or not, he created the opening we needed to get Amira and Karim out. If we'd been alone in that compound when Nazari's men flooded in, we might not have made it."
"That's not an answer," Sloane said.
"It's the only one I can give you." Because the real answer was too complicated. Too raw. Too new to put into words.
[Continue with Nadia's "I'm in" and the rest of the scene as written, then add to Mara's final response:]
Sloane's voice was steel. "Alright. We do this, we do it perfect. No trace. No trail. No connection back to L'Abri Sûr. Quinn, I want every piece of intelligence you can pull on those three sites. Blueprints if they exist. Guard rotations. Recent activity. Everything. Nadia, start working tactical plans for each location. Reese, flight logistics. I want options for insertion and extraction that don't ping any radar between here and Iraq. Winter, equipment and supplies. Kira, medical prep for worst-case scenarios."
Mara stood. "And me?"
"You get four hours of sleep. Then you start figuring out how we find one American operator in a city of two million people before Nazari decides he's worth more dead than alive."
Mara nodded, but sleep felt impossible. Not when she could still see his eyes. Not when she could still hear his voice. Not when the thought of him in pain made her chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with tactical concerns and everything to do with something she wasn't ready to name.
Erbil Air Base, Iraq Same Time
Hawk sat in the team bay staring at satellite imagery that didn't tell him anything useful. The compound outside Mosul looked the same as it had twelve hours ago. Empty. Burned. A tactical disaster frozen in digital resolution. Steele wasn't there. That much was obvious. The question was where he'd gone after Nazari's men had taken him.
The door opened and Bulldog walked in carrying two cups of coffee that had probably been sitting on a burner for six hours. He set one in front of Hawk without comment.
"Anything?" Bulldog asked.
"Nothing." Hawk took the coffee. It tasted like burnt motor oil but the caffeine was welcome. "Thermal shows the compound's been abandoned. No vehicle traffic. No personnel. Nazari's people cleared out fast."
"Smart."
"Yeah."
They sat in silence for a minute. Outside, the base continued its normal operations. Aircraft taking off. Trucks moving supplies. Soldiers going about their business like six hours ago one of the best team leaders in Delta Force hadn't vanished into the Iraqi night.
Ghost walked in next, tablet in hand, looking like he hadn't slept. He probably hadn't. "Still no comms from Steele's tracker."
"It's dead," Hawk said.
"Or disabled."
"Same result."
Joker appeared in the doorway. "Colonel wants an update in thirty minutes."
Bulldog's voice was flat. "Update on what? We're sitting here with our thumbs up our ass waiting for permission to do our job."
"Standing down is our job right now."
"That's bullshit and you know it."
Joker didn't argue. Just leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, the frustration visible in the set of his shoulders.
