Chapter 7
Shouting erupted inside.
Cross moved.
The team flowed over the wall.
Silent at first.
Then fast.
Two guards turned too late.
One was disarmed before he could raise his rifle.
The other disappeared under the weight of an operator’s shoulder.
Smoke canisters rolled into the courtyard.
White clouds swallowed the camera lights.
The broadcast feed flickered.
In the command center, everyone watched the screen dissolve into static and smoke.
Willis stood stiffly near the table, jaw locked.
Maddox never took his eyes off the feed.
Inside the compound, Cross heard Hale before she saw him.
A cough.
Wet.
Weak.
She moved through the smoke.
A masked fighter stood over him with a pistol.
Cross fired once.
The pistol dropped from the man’s hand as he collapsed backward.
Cross reached Hale and cut the rope around his wrists.
His eyes opened halfway.
For a second, he didn’t recognize her.
Then he whispered, “Cross?”
“I told you not to make me come get you.”
His cracked lips moved.
It almost looked like a smile.
“Bad night?”
“Worse for them.”
The medic slid in beside her.
“He’s alive. We need to move now.”
Harper’s voice snapped in her ear.
“Captain, truck inbound from east road. Six heat signatures.”
Cross looked toward the gate.
Of course.
The execution cell had backup.
They had planned for a rescue.
Just not this route.
“Team Two, block east gate,” Cross ordered. “Team One, trench now.”
They lifted Hale.
The compound erupted into gunfire.
Bullets tore through smoke.
Stone cracked.
Cross moved backward, firing controlled shots, keeping herself between Hale and the courtyard.
At the east gate, a truck crashed through the outer fence.
Its mounted gun swung toward the extraction path.
May you like
For half a second, the whole mission balanced on one breath.
Read Part 8 to see the shot that proved Cross was never emotional—she was right.
