Page 124 of The Last Call Home
We don’t speak.We don’t need to.
The second they stop, we move.
The SUV rolls to a halt first, door opening with calculated slowness.A man steps out, tall, tactical gear, expression unreadable under a ball cap and dark lenses.Two more follow from the passenger side, scanning the area, weapons drawn but not raised.They think they’re alone.They don’t know we’re here yet.
That’s their mistake.
“Snipers ready,” I whisper.
“Ready,” comes the response from several of the agents including Mal.
The vans pull in behind the SUV, braking hard.Doors fly open.Two men step out from the rear vehicle, one of them yanking Delilah by the arm, forcing her to stumble out onto the gravel.Her knees give, but she catches herself, breathing hard, her hands zip-tied in front of her.Her lip is split.She’s barefoot.
And she’s still fighting.
She swings her elbow, clips the guy holding her in the ribs.He snarls, raises a hand?—
“Take him,” I say.
Crack.
The sniper’s shot slices through the air, clean and precise.The man collapses immediately, a bloom of red opening across his chest as he crumples into the dirt.
Everything explodes after that.
Shouts.Gunfire.The staccato bursts of suppressed rounds echo in every direction as our team emerges from the tree line, the crates, and the tower above.
Malerick breaks first, emerging from cover in a dead sprint, bullets hissing past as he races toward Delilah.I’m right behind him, covering his flank, my rifle hot in my hands.Two of the enemy scramble to redirect their fire, but our sniper clips one in the thigh, and I take the second down with a clean shot to the shoulder.
Delilah is now crawling, trying to get behind one of the vans.Malerick reaches her first, drops to his knees, and shields her with his body while cutting through the ties with a knife pulled from his vest.
“I got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low but urgent.“We’re here.”
She’s shaking.Her fingers curl into his vest like she’s afraid he’ll vanish if she blinks.
“Cass—cover.”
I pivot, firing three controlled bursts toward the docks.Two more men are trying to escape toward the boat, dragging a case between them.
“Do not let that cargo leave,” I bark into the comm.“Engage.Now.”
Shots ring out again.Both men drop before they reach the ramp.
Malerick pulls her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist.She’s limping, dazed, blood on her temple, but alive.
I reach them just as she starts to sag, and I catch her other side.Her body folds into mine without hesitation.She doesn’t speak, just breathes in short, fast bursts, and I realize she’s been holding it all in until now.
Until we got here.
“We’ve got you,” I say, brushing her hair back, voice rough in my throat.“You’re safe now.”
Her eyes finally meet mine.
And that’s when I know—we didn’t just get her back.
We barely have her in our arms.
A blur slices past the rear of the SUV—fast, trained, precise.
