Page 113 of Zorro

He followed from a distance, just out of sight, his breath tightly measured, each step taken with the weight of everything he had to protect.

His earpiece crackled. “Target confirmed,” Bree’s voice whispered, calm and deadly. “North quadrant, ballroom interior. Black baseball cap, tactical gloves. He’s holding the remote.”

Zorro’s pulse kicked.

“External threat ID’d,” Izzy added, her voice clipped with wind and purpose. “Side entrance, logistics van. Trigger man confirmed. He’s mine.”

“Copy,” Joker’s voice came, low and controlled. “You have a green light. Execute.”

Two heartbeats later, Bree said, “Detonator’s down. We’re clear.” Moments later, Izzy sent her verbal confirmation.

Zorro’s jaw clenched.

Joker came back on. “All callsigns execute. Go loud.”

Down below, gunfire erupted. Zorro didn’t need confirmation. That was Blitz and Buck in the lobby. D-Day was moving toward the doors. BOPE was ready to breach.

The operation was underway, and he was exactly where he needed to be.

The hallway curved ahead, two floors below the rooftop pool. It was one of the service wings, a food court, vendor carts, the level where Javi and the girls had gone for snacks.

His heart pounded once, hard. This was it. His family was close. Everly was within arm’s reach.

The corridor ahead twisted, voices bouncing off the walls—Everly’s captors, agitated now, spooked by the gunfire and rerouting her upstairs on foot. One pushed her harder. She stumbled, caught herself, still silent.

Zorro moved with them, staying in their shadow. Calculated steps. Controlled angles. His weapon steady.

His whole body was tense, locked and ready. If the girls were nearby, if his kid brother was here?—

He didn’t let himself finish the thought.

Every second carried the weight of everything he couldn’t lose.

His comms popped again.

“Charges cleared,” D-Day confirmed. “Lobby’s open. BOPE is free to enter.”

The stairwell door blew open behind them, voices shouting. The heavy rhythm of combat boots. A child’s cry.

Zorro whipped around the corner and saw Bailee and his family.

She was backlit by chaos, rifle raised, stance wide, moving like fury incarnate. She herded everyone to cover, shielding them with her body. His father had his arm wrapped around his mom, dragging her behind a tipped sofa table.

Zorro’s whole world spilled into that hallway. Alive. Breathing. Terrified, and here.

The Black Dawn operatives dragging Everly froze.

One grabbed Everly harder. The other turned toward Bailee, weapon lifting. But she took him out cold. He sprawled onto the cold marble.

Zorro didn’t wait, stepping into the open, his weapon raised, eyes cold.

The remaining guard radioed, but his voice ceased when he fired twice. Both rounds center mass. The man was dead before he hit the tile.

Everly broke free, stumbling back toward the nearest cover.

Gunfire exploded behind him, from the hallway. The mayday had gotten through. More Black Dawn operatives stormed in with weapons blazing.

Zorro dropped, returned fire. His eyes scanned, locked.

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