Page 62 of How Much For A Broken Heart?

“Sierra Base confirms, Sanctuary has the container truck,” Aria’s voice crackled over the radio. “Waiting on your signal to intercept, Sierra one.”

“Hold Sierra Base,” Ethan’s tone was calm. “Teams call in.”

We reported in sequentially. “Sierra five in position,” I confirmed when it was my turn.

“Send them in, Sierra Base, eyes sharp,” Ethan said.

“North Team, Sierra four and five, it’s a go,” Aria instructed, then did the same for the Zach and Kai team. Ryder and I exchanged a determined glance, a soft fist bump, and I wanted to grab him and kiss him one last time before we headed into fuck knows what. The way he looked at me was almost enough for me to forget my training—at least for a millisecond—but then it was all business. We kept low to the ground, cautious, our fingers wrapped firmly around the cold, textured grips of our weapons. The night was eerily silent, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves underfoot as we descended the hill. Each step was deliberate, ensuring minimal noise and maximum concealment, and we fell into a rhythm where one moved and the other covered, and all too soon we were down behind the barn, outside the security fence and no more than twenty feet from the second truck that had arrived. We slithered closer, bolt cutters enough to make a hole for us to work our way through and no sign of surveillance, exactly as Yaz had suggested. Seemed to me that whatever Amos had going on here wasn’t as high-tech as the compound or some of the other places I’d visited with the crews. The whole place had the air of something that had been here a long time, but security was lax, and that was to our advantage.

As we approached the barn, we could hear faint murmurs coming from inside, people discussing matters unknown to us. The structure itself was weathered and worn, its wooden planks creaking in the occasional breeze. We maintained our proximity to the ground, crouching and moving in silence, taking advantage of the natural cover provided by the terrain. The barn’s shadow offered some concealment, and we positioned ourselves, ready to observe and act when the time was right.

Ryder raised his closed fist to shoulder height, then extended his index finger, pointing in the direction I needed to head, and I acknowledged it with a single, subtle nod. I stepped into position and observed the scene unfolding inside the barn, my heart pounding. “Four, two armed,” I murmured into my mic.

“Copy Sierra five.”

“Perimeter, south side, three, all armed,” I heard Zach confirm. “Make that two.”

“Copy Sierra two.”

I assumed either Zach or Kai had taken out one of the guards.

“Sierra Base, clear,” Kai acknowledged. “Moving forward.” That was all three guards down.

A small group of people had congregated in the center of the barn, and that was my focus, them amidst crates and boxes. Among them, one man stood out—a tall, overweight figure struggling to contain his bulk in a suit that seemed a size too small. He held a clipboard, appearing to be in charge.

Two imposing guards, built like fortresses and clad in combat gear, flanked the group, their vigilant eyes scanning the surroundings.

But there was one person, the one I couldn’t clearly see yet, his back turned to us. Could it be Amos? I could level my gun, take him and the others out in a single flurry of bullets, but that wouldn’t solve anything.

And I’d promised Ethan.

The team.

Ryder.

A hand on my shoulder let me know Ryder was by my side, holding up four fingers, then two.

“Sierra one to all teams, outer buildings clear.”

That just left the barn, the four people inside, and whatever we found in there. Ethan called out to drop weapons, clear, calm, and controlled—the armed men inside the barn seemed disoriented, uncertain of where to turn. Panic flashed in their eyes as they realized they were outnumbered and outgunned.

Zach lunged at the man closest to him, taking him down swiftly and silently. Kai followed suit, incapacitating the other guard.

That left two men standing—the one in the ill-fitting suit and the skinny individual with his back still turned. The odds were stacked against them, and our team had them surrounded.

Turn you fucker. Turn and face me.

The skinny man turned in increments; his hands raised. However, it became evident he was armed, and the situation remained volatile. Ryder, quick and decisive, disarmed him.

I wasted no time, grabbing the man with the clipboard, my voice firm as I demanded answers. “Where’s Amos?”

Frustration welled up inside me as the man in the ill-fitting suit whimpered and claimed not to know who Amos was. It seemed as if he was trying to play innocent, but I wasn’t buying it. We needed to find Amos, and we couldn’t afford any more delays.

I tightened my grip and leaned in closer, my voice low and intense. “Don’t play games.”

“I… I’m not.” The,” the man’s voice was shaky.

But I’d been taken in by this shit before—this was Amos all over again, and in a smooth move, I took him to the ground, my knee on his lower back, pushing his face in the dirt. He was wriggling and yelling, and all I could do was shout. There was chaos in my head, as I pressed his Sig against the man’s face. Someone was yanking at me, pulling me away, and I rounded on them, gun raised, only stopping when I met dark brown eyes, and Ryder holding out a hand in surrender.

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