Sarah moved the instant she saw Marcus nod.Her hands left Torres's wound. Grabbed the armed man closest to her. The one standing just to her right. His weapon pointed down. Relaxed. Confident.Mistake.Sarah's hand shot up. Grabbed the barrel of his gun. Twisted hard. Leveraging his wrist. Using his own grip against him.The man gasped. Tried to pull back. But Sarah was already moving. Already inside his guard. Her elbow drove into his throat. Hard. Precise.He choked. Stumbled backward. The weapon came free in Sarah's hands.She spun. Brought the gun up. Fired.The other armed man behind Marcus was turning. Weapon coming around. Too slow.Sarah's shot caught him in the shoulder. He spun. Dropped his weapon. Fell.Marcus was moving too. Had launched himself at Devereaux. Tackled him off his chair. Both men hitting the concrete floor hard.The weapon Devereaux had been holding skittered away across the floor. Out of reach.Sarah tracked it with her eyes. Couldn't get to it. Too far. T

Marcus watched Devereaux's face.The man was good. Had to give him that. Controlled. Showing almost nothing. Just that slight tension. That microscopic tightening around the eyes.But Marcus had interrogated enough people to read the signs. To see past the facade. To recognize when someone was weighing their options. Calculating their odds.Devereaux was scared. Not panicked. Not breaking. But scared enough to consider cooperation.That was progress.Sarah held the knife steady. Not threatening with it. Not making gestures. Just holding it. Visible. Present. A reminder of what could happen.The silence stretched. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.Finally Devereaux spoke. "What exactly do you want? Specifically.""Medical supplies," Sarah said immediately. "Antibiotics. Painkillers. Surgical dressings. Everything needed to treat a gunshot wound properly.""And?""Transport. A vehicle we can trust. Something without GPS. Without tracking. Something that won't lead your people straight to us.

Getting Torres up the stairs was harder than getting him down.Marcus supported most of his weight. Torres's arm draped over his shoulders. The young man's breathing labored. Each step a visible effort.But he didn't complain. Didn't ask to stop. Just kept moving. One step at a time. Determined.Sarah was ahead of them. Weapon ready. Checking the church entrance. Making sure the way was clear.Behind them, Devereaux climbed slowly. Hands still zip-tied. Marcus kept glancing back. Making sure he didn't try anything. Didn't attempt to escape or signal someone.But Devereaux just climbed. Calm. Unhurried. Like this was routine. Like being a hostage was just another Tuesday.They reached the top. The church basement door opened into a hallway. Dark. Quiet. Empty.Sarah moved first. Clearing the space. Checking corners. Making sure no one was waiting.Marcus followed with Torres. The hallway led to a side exit. Less visible than the main entrance. Less likely to be watched.Sarah pushed op

Marcus sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Devereaux.The man stared back. Neither of them speaking. Just the sound of Torres's breathing. Steady. Regular. The pain medication keeping him under.Five minutes passed. Maybe more. Marcus lost track.The bathroom door was still closed. Sarah had been in there for a while now. Not making sounds. Just silent. Processing. Dealing with whatever she was dealing with.Marcus understood. He'd been there. That moment when you realized the mission required more than you thought you could give. Required crossing lines you'd drawn for yourself. Required becoming something you'd promised you'd never be.He'd crossed those lines before. In Iraq. In Afghanistan. In black sites whose locations he couldn't name. Had done things he couldn't talk about. Things that lived in the dark spaces of his memory. Things that woke him up at three AM when he did manage to sleep.But he'd always justified it. Always told himself it was necessary. That the mission

Marcus read through the notebook for the third time. His eyes were burning. The words starting to blur together. Target locations. Asset names. Technical specifications. All of it critical. All of it overwhelming. He set the notebook down. Rubbed his face. Tried to think clearly through the exhaustion. They'd been at this for four hours. Reading. Analyzing. Looking for patterns. For weaknesses. For any way to disrupt forty-three coordinated attacks with no resources and no support. Nothing. They'd found nothing. Every target had redundancies. Every attack had backup plans. Every vulnerability they identified had already been addressed in Devereaux's planning. It was airtight. Or close enough to airtight that Marcus couldn't find the gaps. Sarah was still reading. Still searching. Her focus absolute. She hadn't stopped since they'd started. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't rested. Just read and reread and analyzed. Marcus was worried about her. About how much she was pushing. About what w