Page 30 of Dark Rebel's Fortune

He closed his eyes. A beat passed.

"They're moving back," he confirmed. "They won't come forward unless someone screams."

Max gave a quick nod and pulled a small, clay-colored charge from his vest. "Mini C4 satchel—shaped for directional force. Won't blow the door off the hinges, just crack the lock." He pressed it into place just above the latch, flattening it with nimble fingers.

He attached a remote detonator and then looked over his shoulder. "Back up. Stay tight to the wall."

Dima and Anton ducked across the corridor toget a view of the breach while the rest of the team retreated several doors down.

The blast was sharp but surprisingly contained—a low, concussive thump followed by the soft clatter of warped metal. Kyra blinked. She'd expected something louder.

"Good stuff," Max muttered. "Precision compound. Focused yield."

13

KYRA

When the dust settled, the door stood slightly open, and as Max pushed it in all the way, Kyra and Yamanu swept into the room, covering all corners with their weapons.

The scene inside seared itself into Kyra's memory.

Yasmin was huddling with the children in the back of the cell. Her body curved protectively around the three smallest ones. A little girl, no more than six years old, clung to her mother, her face buried against her chest. The two older ones, about fourteen and fifteen, flanked their mother, hugging her from both ends.

Yasmin looked up with wary defiance in her tear-stricken eyes, one arm tightening around her youngest while the other moved subtly to push the older children behind her. Even in captivity, even infear, she was protecting her children with a fierceness that made Kyra's chest ache with pride.

"Who are you?" Yasmin demanded. "What do you want with us?" Her voice was steady despite the tremor visible in her hands.

Kyra lowered her weapon, keeping it ready at her side but trying to appear less threatening.

"We're here to free you."

Suspicion flickered across Yasmin's face. "You're not with them?"

"No," Kyra assured her. "We're with the Kurdish resistance. We learned of your capture and came to free you."

The lie was an easier and faster explanation. The truth could wait for when they were not in immediate danger.

Yasmin's eyes narrowed, studying Kyra's face with a scrutiny that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone. "You look familiar."

Something twisted in Kyra's chest—hope, perhaps, that her sister might recognize her despite the years and the impossibility of her youthful appearance. But there was no time for revelations now.

"We can talk later," she said. "Right now, we need to move. Quickly and quietly."

Yasmin hesitated only a moment before nodding. She rose from the bench, gathering the youngest child into her arms. "Do exactly as she says," she told the other children.

They nodded, wide-eyed but obedient. The oldest boy, who looked to be about fifteen, moved to help the younger ones.

"Max, take point," Kyra instructed. "Yamanu, rear guard. I'll stay with the family."

She was taking command from Yamanu, but he seemed okay with that. Later, she would apologize, but right now she needed to be in charge of the operation.

Kyra turned to Yasmin. "Stay close to me. If I say drop, you all get down immediately. No questions and no hesitation. Your lives depend on your quick responses."

Yasmin nodded again, her lips tight with determination. The initial shock was wearing off, replaced by the strong will of a mother intent on getting her children to safety.

Max checked the corridor before motioning them forward.

They moved as one, with Dima and Anton going first, Kyra positioned between Max and her family, and Yamanu bringing up the rear. The youngest child whimpered softly in her mother's arms, but the others maintained a disciplined silence, or maybe a terrified one.

---