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Once I saw the camera footage of Romola getting kidnapped, it didn’t take me long to pull together a rescue unit. Even if I’m still angry at her, I’d never leave her in the hands of that psychopath.
I crouch behind a tree. My men are scattered all around me as we hide out in the forested cover on the periphery of Rafaele’s compound. I glance at the man on my right, who holds the silent drone in his hand, ready to launch it into the sky. We’ve got drones on the East, West and South sides too.
"Ready?" I ask into my walkie-talkie. A little static comes through, and everyone affirms they’re prepared for action.
“Release them,” I command.
I watch the drones rise high into the sky. The darkness of the early morning hours provides the perfect cover for our operation. Rafaele’s men won’t even notice them hovering above the compound.
My strategy is simple: I go in alone to find her. If I barge in with guns blazing, he could move locations, making my mission to extract Romola harder.
We watch the drones disappear into the night. Their progress is carefully monitored on a tablet, our eyes glued to the screens as they capture images of the compound's layout. We see the anatomy of the steel, concrete and red blazing images of life—men walking by, some dogs sleeping on couches.
It is hard to identify where exactly Romola might be since all I have is thermo vision, and she could be any one of these bodies. But I’m hoping there’s some clue to her presence in the compound.
My heart races when one of the drones zeros in on a room where somebody seems to be squatting, sitting on a chair maybe, and there’s a person towering over the seated one with a metal gun pointed at them.
Damn it. That has to be Romola.
"Damn it, Rafaele," I mutter under my breath, clenching my fists in anger. I swear, Romola, I will get you out and end this once and for all.
"Alright, listen up," I command my men, switching to action mode. "Stay outside and provide cover. I'm going in to get Romola. Keep your eyes on the screen, and follow my marker from the moment I enter. If you think I’m in trouble, extract me or attack, as per the best mode of action."
"Are you sure, Boss? It could be a trap to get you captured," one of my men voices his concern, but I shake my head.
"At this stage, Rafaele will assume I’ve noticed the theft and am hunting Romola to get it back. He won’t suspect I’m coming after him," I reply with certainty.
"Then we'll have your back," Rico assures me, and I nod in appreciation.
"Good. Let's do this," I get off my haunches.
Slowly, I approach the compound wall from the northeast, where the drone shows 25 meters of unguarded wall. I reach down to feel the outline of my gun holstered against my hip, trying to calm my racing heart.
My jump over the wall is obscured by the darkness, and I land silently on the other side. I make sure to breathe through my nose as silently as possible. Now, I need to make it across the lawns to the compound house through the door without being caught.
“Boss,” a voice comes into my earpiece, probably catching on that I’m not moving. “We’ve got a visual on you.”
“Which direction?” I murmur.
“Go left. There’s an alcove in the house, with a small garden patch at the back. We believe the side door to the house is a little ajar. Slide into the room there. We think it’s the kitchen; someone must have forgotten to close it.”
“People?”
“None. Cooks and cleaners must be sleeping.”
“Noted,” I say.
I look around the corner. There are a few men patrolling the area. How do I get across the lawns to the house without being spotted?
I wait for the perfect moment. The patrolling guards move past me and turn a corner. Before more come from the other end, I swiftly dart across the lawn, staying low to the ground to avoid detection.
I spot the small garden patch at the back, just as my men described it. The side door is indeed slightly ajar, a sliver of light cutting through the darkness. Without hesitating, I slip inside and find myself in a dimly lit kitchen—abandoned, thank God.
There’s only one door out from the kitchen to the main part of the house, and I take it.
Stepping through it, I find myself in a dimly lit hallway. The wooden floor creaks under my weight as I move cautiously, my senses heightened to any sound that could signal danger. The fear of the unknown fuels me, but I cannot let it paralyze me. Romola's life is on the line.
In the distance, I hear the faint echo of voices. My grip tightens on my weapon, and I duck behind a couch, readying myself for a fight if needed. The voices fade away and I continue to make my way further into the building.
