Page 125 of Salvaged Hearts

In a grave or in a cell, that was my mission for Grey. Unfortunately for us, federal involvement made the latter much more likely.

Beyond the lives of innocents and justice for the shit bags holding them, this sting was personal.Obsidianmade it personal when they targeted my best friend’s girl. When they left that fucked-up reminder that there were worse fates than death for those in their path.

With one last steadying breath, I cracked my neck, stretched my fingers, and then tapped my earpiece in an ancient routine. Meaningless, of course. Our tech was state of the art and our connections clear, but it was like muscle memory. An automatic reflex.

Everything was accounted for. The briefing had been short and to the point. Neal and Odessa Gilbert were our primary targets, with a secondary mission to capture or incapacitate theObsidianoperatives we could, both within the warehouse and throughout the city.

Our timing had to be precise. With this many organizations involved, not a team could be so much as thirty seconds off, or this whole thing would go to shit. The feds looked at apprehending these sleaze bags as a perk, but they were here to collect the last bits of evidence we needed to build the federal case against the rest of their damn network.

Disciplined breaths held steady as I scanned each aspect of the plan. Rivera’s local brass had the perimeter secured. My screens reflected our body cams and the drone footage forThunderstrike, EBPD, and the fleet of suits waiting for their signal. Their security footage had been hacked and looped, so they couldn’t see us coming.

My men were broken into two smaller groups—one for frontal assault and one for infiltration through a side entrance.

Everything was in place. And a lot more people than Greyson were counting on me to execute this efficiently.

Now or never.

I said my prayers silently before tapping the sign of the cross, cleared my throat, and began. “All units, report status,” I commanded, voice steady as I braced one arm over the other, resting my fist against my chin.

“Alpha team in position,” Viper’s hushed response sent me nodding at their screens. The man had been my second in command ever since Grey’s accident.

“Bravo team, ready on your go.”

“Perimeter secure,” Rivera came through next.

With one last deep breath, I embraced the addicting cocktail of adrenaline and predatory calm and ordered, “Green light. Alpha team, breach the entrance. Bravo team, prepare for entrance. Execute on my mark.” A final scan of the feeds showed everything where I needed it. Alpha was stacked up andwaiting for command. Bravo was still a line of sculptures, their movements synchronized and precise. Out of habit, I adjusted the leather band on my watch, double-checking the face to make sure our timing was exact. My heart picked up as I watched the seconds tick by. Accuracy was critical as our other teams moved in around the city. There could be no gap between breaches—no chance for them to warn each other, where crucial players could escape.

Three, two, one.“Mark.”

In a synchronized flurry of motion, my screens erupted as our infiltration team silently slipped through their side entrance to disable interior security systems with practiced efficiency. These men stood shoulder to shoulder under enemy fire in the Middle East. This would feel like a fucking drill for them. Problem was, it wasn’t. The motherfuckers hunkered down inside that metal shell would be just as eager to spill their blood as any enemy combatant on the outside.

Right on cue, a thunderous explosion marked bravo team’s breach, a handful of our camera feeds shaking with the aftershocks as their internal security rushed like disoriented bees to respond. “Flashbangs out. Secure the entry point.” Not a moment later, a quarter of my screens were momentarily blinded, and I leaned forward to brace myself on the desk.

Like clockwork, our guys picked off shell-shockedObsidianoperatives like ants in a pile. “Alpha, proceed down the main corridor and clear each sector. Bravo, head to the server room and disable systems.”

Agent Mitchell’s voice came over comms. I wasn’t a tremendous fan of sharing space with feds, but in this case, I could begrudgingly agree they were needed. “I’ve got eyes on the server room. Confirming heavy encryption. Bravo, prepare for digital extraction once we’re inside.”

A grim kind of satisfaction settled in my chest as I watched our teams sweep through what, up until now, had been headquarters for the Emerald Bay division ofObsidian. Not over till it’s over, I reminded myself, releasing my hold on the edge of the desk, where my fingers had somehow tightly clenched around the rim. Flexing my hands, my focus sharpened on my alpha team as they cleared the corridor.

One by one, we checked the boxes as Bravo headed for the servers. It was the smooth operations that made me nervous.

In my experience, all it took was one moment of a dropped guard to throw an entire squad six feet into the ground.

Movement caught my attention, and I narrowed my eyes on the small line ofObsidianoperatives as they poured into the space to engage the front of team one. “Alpha, contact left. Suppress and flank. Bravo, cover Alpha’s advance.”

Team two pivoted on command, the rapid percussion of cover fire forcing me to suck down a breath as our guys flanked the attackers.

Agent Mitchell drew my attention to my top right monitor as he announced, “I’m seeing movement on the north side. Reinforcements incoming. Delta team, position to intercept.”

One by one, I cracked my knuckles, monitoring the chaos. Some days, running command was its own kind of high. But in moments like this—moments where my guys were under fire—I ground my teeth to keep from snarling because being shoulder to shoulder on the ground was somehow less helpless feeling. All I could do now was trust their training and do my damndest to give the right commands.

Greyson refused to leave Alice unattended during our attacks. Not that I could blame him. The bastard would be snarling by now if he was here anyway, demanding I let him march in there himself. It was better this way. Better that he wasn’t fighting this sense of uselessness.

And just as quickly as they’d encountered trouble, our teams neutralized the resistance. Blowing out a breath, I tapped my earpiece, like somehow that kept me connected to my men. “Tango down. Secure the perimeter. Sweep for additional hostiles.” Relief had me straightening, cracking my knuckles all over again.

Yeah. Grey would fucking hate this.

Room by room, I watched our men sweep through the warehouse, my eyes rotating through the screens, searching for any more enemies in hiding. Vigilance was the lifeblood of this position, and I wasn’t about to let mine drop.

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