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There’s no need to explain.
That’s Max’s way of telling me Charlie team needs help.
“Go ahead.” I tap Max on the shoulder. “I’ve got this.”
“Can you manage them?” He glances toward the hostages.
“I’ve got them.” There’s enough adrenaline spiking through my veins to mask all my pain.
Max takes one look at me, then hands me his M4 with several thirty-round magazines. “Get them out of here and keep them safe.”
“Copy that.” I turn around and take aim across the courtyard as a new wave of Artemus’s men join the fight.
Alpha team heads back the way they came, leaving me alone with the hostages. Bravo team lays into the newcomers, blanketing the air with suppressive fire until there’s no one left to fire back.
A sudden silence descends, punctuated by the sniffles of those behind me. Rafe rushes across the courtyard, until he joins up with me.
“Alpha went to help Charlie.” I don’t know why I say anything, I’m the only one not hooked up through a HUD.
“You ready?” Rafe crouches down to get eye to eye with our rescues. “We’re going to get you out of here.” He gestures to the two little girls, his smile magnetic. They should be terrified of him, but they run into his arms. Rafe lifts the girls, then looks to the others. “Hold hands. Stick to us like glue.”
Rafe wrangles the women into making a chain. I carry the teen who got shot. Then we all cross the courtyard beneath the overwatch of our brothers on Bravo team. Brady and the others meet us at the far corner of the courtyard. That’s when I see Barbi on her feet, standing tall. When Barbi comes to me, Zeb takes the teen off my hands, cradling her in his arms.
Barbi wraps her hands around my neck, and lifts on tiptoe to kiss me chastely on the cheek. I’m pretty sure there would’ve been more, except for the teen clinging to my neck.
With the women Alpha team rescued entrusted to our care, Bravo team turns to the final phase of this extraction. Fortunately, it’s quieter now. Artemus’s men are either dead, dying, or subdued, but it’s the kind of quiet that lifts the hairs on the back of my neck.
The kind of quiet that’s too quiet.
And we’re encumbered by a dozen noncombatants.
Finally, we reach the outer walls where we meet intense resistance. Enemy fire blocks our exit.
Brady ducks behind a nearby wall as Rafe sprints forward, grabbing something off the ground. He tosses it back to us—a bag filled with explosives—just as incoming fire slams into the wall beside Brady’s head.
I don’t even blink at the bag, or how it magically appeared when we needed it most.
Brady swears under his breath before flipping open the bag. With practiced efficiency, he sets up explosives around us. Then he turns back toward us and shouts. “Run!”
Bravo team, along with our rescues, race beyond the walls. Booker no longer carries Barbi, but he wraps a hand around her waist, assisting her in the same way Brady helped me back at the cell. We make it fifty feet, with our menagerie in tow, when Rafe presses the detonator. The night air fills with smoke and sharp fragments of debris as we drop behind the cover of several large crates.
Beyond the walls, the world erupts in explosions and gunfire. The earth trembles beneath my feet, the concussive force of the assault reverberates through my bones. The acrid scent of gunpowder fills the air, intermingling with the metallic taste of victory.
Booker releases Barbi and I take her hand, pulling her to me, holding her tight.
The explosions subside, and the smoke clears.
We cautiously emerge from behind the crates, and after a few quick hand signals, Brady leads us through the gates of Artemus’s stronghold and into the night.
Outside the walls, we keep to the shadows and make our way across a fallow field until we reach the exfil location—an abandoned farmhouse on the outskirts of a tiny village. We pile inside and I survey our surroundings with a sense of relief. Rafe sets about making sure that all of our rescues are safe while Brady helps Booker secure our perimeter with Zeb and Hayes.
I take Barbi’s hand and bring her knuckles to my lips. Pressing my lips against her skin, I close my eyes. Surely, this can’t be real. I understand better the shock of the women I’ve rescued in the past. Their catatonic expressions and lack of response after being rescued.
None of this feels real. It still feels as if I’m trapped in that cell, beaten and bruised, waiting for the end.
THIRTY-THREE
Barbi
