Bulldog typed. "Are you going in after him?"
The response took longer this time. Like Quinn was checking with someone. Or maybe just choosing her words carefully. "Our team lead wants to. Rest of us are on board. But we don't do combat rescue. This is outside our normal parameters."
"We do combat rescue," Bulldog typed. "It's exactly our parameters."
Another pause. Then: "Coordination would be difficult. You're military. We're not. Different rules. Different chains of command. Or in our case, no chain of command."
Bulldog showed Hawk again.
"Tell her we don't care about rules right now," Hawk said. "Tell her we care about getting our guy back."
Bulldog typed it word for word.
Quinn's response was immediate. "Understood. Stand by. My team lead will want to talk. Setting up secure video call. Will send link when ready."
Bulldog looked around the room. "We're going to video chat with a civilian rescue team while sitting on a U.S. military base. This is either brilliant or the stupidest thing we've ever done."
"Could be both," Joker said, and there was almost humor in his voice, the gallows humor of operators who'd learned to laugh at the absurd.
"Probably is both," Risk added.
Hawk didn't smile. "I don't care what it is as long as it gets us closer to Steele. Quinn says six hours for location analysis. That gives us time to plan. Time to prepare. Time to figure out how the hell we coordinate with a team we're not supposed to know exists."
"And if the colonel finds out?"
"Then we deal with it. But right now, I'd rather ask forgiveness than permission."
They settled in to wait. But this time the waiting felt different. This time they weren't just sitting around hoping for something to break. This time they had a connection. Had someone working the problem from a different angle. Had the possibility of actionable intelligence within hours instead of days.
Somewhere in Louisiana, a woman named Quinn was working computers and databases and intelligence networksto find one American operator in a city of two million people. Somewhere in that same compound, a team of women who rescued trafficking victims was deciding whether to risk everything to help five Delta operators they'd never met.
And somewhere in Mosul, a man named Steele was either alive or dead. Either waiting for rescue or already beyond saving.
Bulldog's phone stayed on the table. Screen lit. Chat window open. Connected to people who shouldn't exist running operations that weren't authorized. But sometimes that's what it took. Sometimes the official channels failed and you had to find another way. Sometimes you had to trust strangers because they were the only ones who could help.
The night stretched on. And for the first time since Steele had vanished into the Iraqi darkness, they had something more than hope. They had a lead. They had allies. They had a chance.
And that was enough to keep going.
ALIGNMENT
L'Abri Sûr, LouisianaSix Hours Later
Mara woke to her alarm after exactly four hours of sleep that felt like four minutes. Her body protested the movement as she sat up, muscles stiff from the operation and the long flight home. She'd managed to shower and change into clean clothes before collapsing, but her mind had refused to shut down completely. Even in sleep, she'd seen Steele's face. Heard his voice telling her to go. Felt the ghost of his vest under her hands when she'd pulled him close and made the choice that was haunting her now.
She found Quinn in the operations center, surrounded by monitors displaying satellite imagery, communications intercepts, and pattern-of-life analysis. The younger woman looked exhausted but focused, her fingers moving across keyboards with practiced efficiency.
"Tell me you have something," Mara said.
Quinn didn't look up from her screens. "I have something. Not sure how much you're going to like it."
"Try me."
Quinn pulled up a secure chat window. "Delta's been reaching out. Bulldog, one of their operators, has a connection tosomeone who knows about us. Not specifically Shadow Veil, but enough to make the link. They want to coordinate."
Mara moved closer to read the chat transcript. Short messages. Professional. Careful. Both sides feeling each other out without revealing too much. The desperation was visible even through the carefully worded text. These men wanted their team leader back and they were willing to bend every rule to make it happen. She understood that desperation. Felt it herself every time she closed her eyes and saw his face.
"How did they find us?"
