Chapter 9: The Breach and the Promise

“I need you to stay focused, Miller! Do not let them wrap around the back!” Marcus screamed into his headset, the sound of standard security gone.

The living room was filling with smoke. The cartel was firing aggressively at the house, their bullets easily punching through the thin residential walls.

Marcus was pinned behind a heavy oak sideboard, using it as improvised cover.

“They’re deploying gas!” Miller reported, his voice filled with panic.

“Put your mask on!” Marcus ordered. “If you can’t see, you can’t fight! I’m moving to the stairs.”

He knew they were losing the battle of numbers. Six scouts was one thing; a full-scale assault was another. He had to get Elena and Sarah out.

Marcus ran low to the ground toward the stairs, his shotgun still racking, his movements a blur of practiced tactical fluidness.

He reached the master bedroom door, knocking aggressively. “Elena! It’s Webb! We are compromised, we are moving now!”

The closet door opened. Elena and Sarah, both wearing protective masks Marcus had given them, stepped out. Sarah was clutching her stuffed unicorn with terrifying intensity.

“What’s happening? Why are they shooting?” Elena demanded through the mask.

“The police leak was worse than I thought. They were prepared for a tactical team. They weren’t prepared for me.” Marcus grabbed Sarah, lifting her in his arms. “We have to move to the egress point.”

He led them toward the back of the house, bypassing the stairs.

“Where’s the team?” Elena asked, terrified.

“Miller and his team are buying us time,” Marcus said, his voice dropping to a gravelly low. “They knew the risk when they took the job.”

He reached a hidden hatch in the hallway floor, a Force Recon addition Miller hadn’t known about. It led to a small, fortified crawl space.

“Get in,” Marcus ordered Elena. “This will take you to the garage where Jennifer has a sterile vehicle waiting. You do not stop.”

“What about you?” Elena asked.

“I have to make sure they can’t follow,” Marcus said. He looked at Sarah.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, scribbled coloring page. It was Lily’s purple magical dog.

“Sparkle needs to take care of you, Sarah. But you take care of Sparkle.” He tucked the paper into the little girl’s hands.

He closed the hatch.

He turned back toward the stairs.

The sound of gunfire downstairs was dying down. Miller’s team had fallen.

Marcus stood at the top of the stairs, the shotgun racked, waiting.

“Wrong table, wrong day, gentlemen,” Marcus whispered, the same words he used at the bistro. “Because some training never fades.”

He lifted the shotgun as the wolves began to ascend the stairs.

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