Getting my family back alive comes first.
The helicopter touches down in a field less than a mile from the warehouse.
The rear hatch drops, and the Army jeep rolls onto the grass.
“Nolan. Devlin. Status.”
A brief pause.
“A man just entered carrying a medical bag.”
The blood drains from my face.
No.
No.
They weren’t touching my wife’s belly.
“Ritchie, Miff, and I have the perimeter covered,” Catch says. “You link up with the others and hit the warehouse.”
I take off running.
Around me, my cousins move like ghosts.
Silent.
Efficient.
Deadly.
One by one, the guards around the perimeter drop before they even realize we’re there.
“The back entrance is clear,” Nolan says.
His drone hovers above the rear door.
I pull a brick of C-4 from my cargo pocket and slap it against the steel.
Then I step back.
“Three.”
“Two.”
“One.”
The explosion rocks the building.
The door rips from its frame and crashes across the concrete floor.
We surge inside.
Chaos erupts.
I fire first.
The round slams into Kobe’s shoulder and spins him sideways.
