C H A P T E R O N E - - - S H A U N

There was no noise at all. The sounds of insects buzzing and chirping in the distance were the only things breaking the stillness of the dense jungle around Shaun. As he took a seat at his post high up in a large tree on his stomach, he scrunched his nose and slightly shifted his weight to his hips.

There was no noise at all. The sounds of insects buzzing and chirping in the distance were the only things breaking the stillness of the dense jungle around Shaun. As he took a seat at his post high up in a large tree on his stomach, he scrunched his nose and slightly shifted his weight to his hips.

They were in the midst of a South American jungle in a nation that Shaun didn't care about and couldn't recall the name of. All of these haunts began to resemble one another after a few years with The Firm. Depending on the mission, the only differences were the flight's duration and the type of nest he would need to choose.

Far below him, in a valley's dip, Shaun once more scanned the compound. They were tucked away in the dense forest, tiny, squat structures that blended in almost perfectly with the surrounding vegetation. The longest and smallest of the houses had the most guards stationed at their entrances. They assumed the storage facility. Through the gaps that served as windows, candles or oil lamps flickered. Nothing appeared to be there for an extended period of time. If necessary, the entire camp could be disassembled and relocated in less than a day.

drug traffickers Why didn't they choose a better environment to do their shit in? Shaun thought dejectedly.

He had developed a strong phobia of heat after serving two tours in Afghanistan. Even though the ex-jaguar SEAL's appeared to be purring contentedly and be prepared to move as soon as the call came, the human side of him was not particularly pleased with the warm, humid weather. Even though it wasn't as bad as the desert's oppressive, dry heat, he had recently grown to appreciate more temperate climates.

Smiling to himself, Shaun said. The mission must have been taking forever if he was talking about the weather in his inner monologue.

The comm unit was turned on by him touching his finger to his ear. "Category 3. This is all clear. Any news on when we will arrive? He tried to disguise his slight annoyance in his voice with something more akin to eagerness as he asked.

“Cat One. Cat Four encountered a problem; we'll keep you updated," Jerome reported.

Shaun held back his sigh. If Tim, Cat Four, encountered a problem, it was likely that one or more of the bombs had not yet been detonated. In order to confuse the thugs when they decided to attack, he and Mitch had been creeping around the campsite's perimeter and planting tiny explosive devices on the buildings that were closest to the ground.

Shaun inhaled deeply, reminding himself that he was a patient man. He needed to be. Being a sniper came with the territory. But in all honesty, he had lost a lot of his composure in the past few years and didn't really know how to get it back. In an effort to keep himself busy, he carefully kept his eye on the scope as he circled the buildings and the guards one by one, noting their locations.

When he was on a long stakeout like this one, thoughts started racing through his mind that he didn't really need. Memories, flashes, screams, promises... he could do without them all. His nightly scotch habit, along with a rigorous training regimen and keeping good company, either with his team or with women, kept them at bay, but when he was all alone up in a nest like this one, time was his worst enemy.

Don't go there, he told himself as the corners of his vision blurred and his finger itched to press the trigger.

So he tallied. At the center building, there are two guards. Two are at the warehouse door, with a third circling it. Three more were walking around in a circle, looking as if they knew what they were doing. As their recon over the previous three days had revealed, there were probably a few more hidden by the other buildings, and countless more in the houses.

Shaun felt a familiar sense of unease as he observed their equipment. These guys were well-armed and well-equipped. They weren't armed with discarded AKs and a mishmash of handguns like Shaun was used to seeing on drug lords, but with new weapons. Clean, orderly, and well-maintained.

The men wielding them appeared to be putting on their best slumming act, but a man can't hide prowess and capability for long. These guys were pumped and tense. Careful. They weren't just bumbling muscle sent out into the jungles to get killed over a bad deal.

When Jerome relayed this to command, they got a deadpan response about it being "just a drug cartel" and "the mission is the same—clean out the group," which elicited a round of eye rolls in the bunker and more than a few expletives directed at the guy delivering the news.

Spade. Somehow, whenever things started to seem strange, that motherfucker was always involved. Nobody was surprised that this was another one of these occasions or that, even in the best of circumstances, getting information out of him was difficult. Shaun wasn't the biggest Spade fan to begin with because of the incident involving Tim and Tom and their wife Maddison.

However, they followed instructions as usual, albeit perhaps this time with a little more caution. That was probably the reason Jerome was not in a hurry, taking longer than usual to stake out the location and giving Tim plenty of time to set up. They all aspired to enter and exit in a tidy manner. Shaun knew he was speaking for everyone when he said that a sensible mission would be most welcome for a change because there had been too many unexpected, uncivilized fights lately.

He was therefore irritated when he unexpectedly heard noises coming from the camp as one of the guards pointed to the perimeter's shadows while shouting something.

Shit, Shaun thought to himself, recognizing the area he was pointing at as one of the places Tim was planning to plant an explosive.

A low whine, subtle but present, reached his ears. Laser-tripped perimeter guards Tim probably didn't realize he was close to one until it went off like an air horn.

"Cat Four has been created," Shaun growled into the comm as he took aim.

“Lock and load,” came the familiar reply, Jerome’s voice as tight as Shaun’s.

Everything went to hell in an instant. Tim had to have hit the remote detonation triggers at the same time Shaun pulled the trigger on the gun for the first time, dropping the guy screaming with a clean hit to the head. The four buildings exploded in a brilliant display of sparks, flames, and explosions so loud they could deafen a man in the distance Shaun was located.

Even through the protective goggles he was wearing, which were set for low light and quick adaptation between illumination levels, Shaun instinctively closed his eyes as the explosions flashed intensely. Even so, he was already adjusting the rifle with his hands, the barrel moving only a few inches in the direction he anticipated the next two guards might be running.

He smiled to himself as the hair trigger on a beast of a guard running toward the entrance Jerome and Tom would use was perfectly aligned when he opened his eyes. A millisecond later, the man fell to his knees while clutching his throat, and the person behind him did the same.

Shaun fired three bullets into the rifle with a quick reload. His heart was racing, and his veins were pounding with adrenaline. Chaos annoyed him. To be completely honest, I detested it with a fervent hatred. Nothing made him happier than a well-organized maneuver, and this was far from it.

People piled out of the burning buildings, some prepared to fight and some simply prepared to perish. A definite indication that the rest of Squadron Six was approaching was the sound of gunfire beginning to rumble the jungle below. This was not how things should have been. This was not flawless.

But occasionally, that was how their missions went. He had to be ready for anything, and he was, according to the spirits above. However, no one implied that Shaun had to concur.

Shaun focused on their main objective as Mitch's voice over the comm announced, "Movement in the warehouse."

Typically, they were given the assignment to eliminate everyone present by either wiping them out or gathering them together for local authorities. Local authorities, of course, usually meant some wealthy jerk who had paid them to eliminate some competition. In the end, Shaun wasn't too concerned. His morals had been questionable for a long time, and at the end of the day, he considered any piece of shit that wasn't roaming the Earth and potentially killing innocent people a victory.

However, this time, it was against the law to leave anyone unattended. To say the least, it was unusual but not unheard of. Squad Six was aware of The Firm's reputation for accepting jobs that weren't entirely kosher.

They'd talked about it numerous times, but they came to the understanding that they could refuse anything if it didn't quite line up with their moral compass. But for Shaun, getting rid of a bunch of drug dealers was a win-win situation.

When he noticed one of the powerful guards running directly toward Jordan, who was protecting Jerome, like he was being pursued by demons, he didn't think twice for a moment. Before pulling the trigger, Shaun let his finger rest on it for a moment. A second later, he saw the man fall to the ground like a wet tissue, which was a satisfying sight.

Seconds later, he remarked, "Warehouse stable," frowning slightly as he regarded the long, slender structure.

Even though nobody had yet left, he knew there had to be at least five people inside. No back entrances existed, and the windows he could see did not exhibit any movement. He had assumed that because they were on the highest alert, the warehouse workers would be among the first to leave. Although he had killed the guards stationed at the door, he was unable to see any other individuals trying to join the fight or flee.

Shaun muttered to himself, pushing the tobacco he was chewing into the corner of his mouth, "The fuck's going on here."

A few years ago, when he had taken more than one bullet during the squad's valiant show of introducing Jerome to his wife Libby, his knee throbbed with a dull ache. A wolf had nearly killed him when it had caught him in his nest.

Shaun had developed a severe case of nest-related paranoia since then. Nothing was worse for a sniper than to be killed while their focus was on a battle taking place half a mile away. Nevertheless, he was adamant about never letting anyone else enter the nest with him.

In an effort to bring some order to the chaos, Mitch called, "Cat Two, buildings three and seven cleaned out."

Jordan said, "Cat Five, building two cleaned out."

The conflict was becoming more erratic. The perimeter's smaller buildings had been thoroughly cleaned out after Jerome and the rest of the team took out the weak points. The three huts that had been damaged by the explosions were on fire and in danger of spreading the destruction. The only indication that anyone was down there at all was sporadic gunfire coming from covered locations; however, the would-be commandos were no longer in sight.

The warehouse remained standing as a symbol of absolute silence. There was a problem. Shaun was aware of it in his body.

C H A P T E R T W O - - - - D A N I E L L A

Everything was going exactly the opposite way it was supposed to.

Dani gritted her teeth, passing the time with the tiny packages of cocaine so pure she was certain she could entertain half of Batangas with the small baggie she was carrying. Sweat was dripping down her face, licking at the delicate curve behind her ear and causing it to itch. She was irritated, and it was getting worse.

I can't believe I'm still here, she thought to herself as she tried to figure out what time it was.

It had to be after three a.m. at the very least. The sun would rise soon, and she knew she had to finish this shipment quickly if she wanted to avoid Soyo's misplaced rage. He never got too bad, but she'd gotten a few smacks in the last few months and it was getting tiresome pretending to be hurt by them.

"Are you nearly finished? " she inquired, remembering to switch from Filipino to English when addressing Roy, one of the guards on packing duty with her.

"I have no choice. I'm falling asleep here," he said flatly, his cold, dead eyes fixed on his work.

Peculiar. He'd never appeared to be the type of guy who needed to sleep. That went for the majority of the Silk Slayers, the most ridiculous name for a drug cartel she'd ever heard. But these were not your average drug dealers. Even though they had some Filipino in their blood, the majority of them were Americans, and English was as widely spoken in the camp as Tagalog.

Dani had been in the business long enough to know that such nonsense did not occur. Not in the middle of a jungle, with a large camp hidden away like busy worker bees, everyone going through their tasks mechanically at best.

Yes, the coke was good, and yes, they did move it in large shipments, but the longer Dani was involved, the more she suspected that coke wasn't the only thing they were transporting.

Of course, The Firm would not hear a word she said about it.

"You're two months behind schedule. Find out who they work for and who their main client is before leaving. "We're running out of time."

That was the last message she'd received from her handler, and it had been more than a month. Dani considered herself lucky to be alive. The Firm did not appreciate having their orders ignored or extended as she had. But she was unable to simply give up and leave. Something wasn't... right. Her jaguar senses began to tingle due to something in the air, and she was unable to let go or remove herself from the situation in order to concede defeat.

The Firm employed Daniella Jessica Rivera as a clandestine agent. This was her first significant solo mission after being with them for just over a year; it involved infiltrating the Silk Slayers to learn who they were representing. She had experience in the military and later worked for the Manila Police Department's Narcotics Division, so she was well-versed in going undercover and completing the task at hand. Dani had an impression of one of the Silk Slayers, a man named Rollo, the only member of the crew who appeared to be a genuine drug runner, the first time she met him. But this time, the plan wasn't working, which greatly frustrated her. Too rigid and tense, they were. In comparison to the mega-cartels, they are too well-funded and cautious to be a bunch of schmucks trying to strike it rich. Being more than just a runner for them, bringing small quantities of drugs across the border, had taken a long time.

It took another month after she was accepted before she was actually allowed to "graduate" from a run-down apartment to this wonderful stretch of jungle to work as a packer. It certainly helped that she could boast of having quick fingers and an excellent sense of scale for cocaine baggies, but that was a longer story.

She knew she was low on the totem pole, but she was nonetheless gradually moving up the organizational hierarchy. At least the angry fuck in charge of this particular operation, Soyo, was now prepared to look her in the eye and not treat her like some kind of elaborate wall decoration.

She was one of the few women in the area, and the absence of any awkward advances from the men was another pretty obvious flashing sign that something odd was happening.

She simply didn't know what yet.

Soyo frequently spent days away with an armored guard while traveling, coming and going constantly from the compound. When the convoy returned, they occasionally brought in sealed wooden crates filled with something that was obviously not more coke and hid it under tarps at the back of the warehouse until it was moved once more. She was never permitted to see what it was, but by this point, she was certain that it held the solution to this absurd nonsense.

You could decide to give up and return home. Sleep in a bed without mosquito netting. Eat something that isn't a vaguely defined kind of gruel. Dani allowed her gaze to wander over the individuals in the warehouse with her and thought to herself, "Wouldn't that be nice."

Ron was standing with his rifle in his hands, looking as prepared to fall on his face and sleep as he was to take out any threat that might come his way. Roy, Mar, and Louie were also packing like she was. Dani had no doubt that if she ever made the wrong move, Ron or any of the other guys would be more than happy to end her misery.

When the first explosion shook the compound, she was wiping sweat from her brow and cursing the unbearable heat.

"Wait a minute!" Shar yelled, leaping to his feet and running to the door as the rest of the bombs detonated in quick succession.

From the window, Dani could see the flames reaching high and casting shadows against the dark green jungle backdrop.

"Shit, we're getting hit," Louie hissed through clenched teeth, rising from his seat and beginning to toss the packages into a large basket on the floor. "Dani, help me," he said, drawing Dani into the situation.

She stood up and began assisting, her hands doing the work with noticeable apathy. Her mind was racing ahead of her, trying to figure out who in the world would care enough to come and attack them. Yes, drug-related cartel wars were common, but the Silk Slayers had been very careful to stay out of the spotlight, constantly moving the base to avoid anyone's radar who might have taken offense at their mere existence. They were also too small to justify such bombings and carnage.

Most of all, Dani was trying to figure out how to get her hands on a gun so she wouldn't die with the rest of these scumbags.

Mar and Ron were watching out the door as they swiftly cleared the long table. Like Dani would have anticipated from men who only knew violence, neither was sprinting outside. They chose to wait. She could not detect any fear in any of the four men present because of their rigid muscles and alert eyes. They appeared to have been anticipating this. They weren't pleased to see their camp in flames, but they were sort of... blasé about the whole thing.

Dani assisted Louie in moving the basket to the other end of the long warehouse, where he yanked open a trap door buried in the ground. Behind another safety door, there was a large silo down there with numerous baskets of tightly packed coke. Louie dragged the load inside, quickly shut the hatches, and smoothed the floor's edges.

He gently said, "So they won't get our shit," and he grabbed Dani by the arm and dragged her back to the entrance.

Dani winced at his vice-like hold but remained silent. It was already bad enough that she was stranded in the middle of a firefight with these men and had no way to sneak away and hide in the jungle until the situation calmed down. While she was at it, she didn't want to make them angry.

Louie examined his gun, his face solemn.

"Soyo will be pissed when he gets back," Shar remarked mildly, boredly watching the commotion outside.

"Good thing he got out with the shipment, then," Ron said, prompting Louie to give him a silent stare.

"Which shipment?" Dani inquired, perking up slightly.

She was vaguely aware of her hands rolling into fists and then loosening again, as if she was prepared to go ten rounds with whoever came at her. That readiness to fight, kill, or be killed was a familiar sensation. Mindanao, and then the seemingly endless missions back in Manila, had taught her to stay alert at all times.

It was difficult enough to live the life she had chosen, but as a woman she had to be especially cautious. If she was caught, her gender would have no bearing on anything. After all, a bullet to the head was a bullet to the head. So it was even more surprising that she'd allow such a slip.

It has to be the heat.

"None of your business, Dani," Louie grumbled, not looking at her.

Dani took a deep breath to center herself. She'd joined the Silk Slayers, but they didn't seem to trust her yet. She couldn't hold it against them. Such things took time. It's strange how she and a bunch of drug-running whackos got it, but her own employer, one of the world's most lauded private "security" firms, didn't.

"Who do you believe they are?" Shar inquired, his lips drawn into a thin line.

"Does it make a difference?"

"If they're coming at us with explosives, it might," Mar smirked.

He almost appeared to be drawn to the possibility.

"Does not, in reality. You are familiar with the procedure. Wait until Soyo and the rest of the crew arrive, then take care of them while remaining hidden". He started to say something while flicking a glance at Dani, "At least we don't have to worry about the..."

Dani raised her hands, took a step back, and scowled.

"Louie, hurry up. I have no idea what's happening, but I shouldn't be your concern in this situation. Not when there are a bunch of psychotic commandos running around outside attempting to destroy the camp. Should we not be assisting? ”

The last question was reasonable enough considering that at that precise moment, high-pitched screams briefly rang in Dani's ears before being masked by gunfire. Dani questioned whether the man screaming was on the side of the attackers.

They were aware of the risks, Louie said with a shrug. They grow old and pass away. It is their own issue.

Callous, Dani grimly reflected.

It didn't surprise her at all. None of these guys had particularly strong sentiments. She was by far the shortest person in the entire camp at five foot eight. They were all large, strong, and physically fit. She was aware that there were a few shifters present, but it appeared that only the senior members of their improvised management were weres of any kind. All of the foot soldiers were people, but they were still in excellent physical condition.

However, she had discovered herself in the warehouse with four of the five shifters who were present throughout the compound, with Soyo the lone absentee. Now that I think about it, it seemed like an absurd coincidence.

As a stray bullet came barreling into the building, going straight through a wall and not stopping, Ron called out, pulling Dani next to him and out of the way.

“Fuck! " Dani exclaimed. "Man, I appreciate it."

"Dani, how about you concentrate for a while on not killing yourself? Do you think you could pull that off?" Louie scoffed, giving her a look that could have set the sun on fire.

She mumbled, tucking back her long, curly black hair in an effort to prevent her hands from doing anything other than suffocating him to death. "Sure thing," she said.

Prick. I'm hoping that one day I'll be the one to shoot you in the head.

Only when they heard the distinctive sound of a truck trundling through the brush did things start to spiral out of control once more. Dani also realized very quickly that this was not your typical drug operation.

C H A P T E R - - - T H R E E - - - S H A U N

It's taking longer than expected.

Shaun's body thrummed with the first stings of anxiety as the thought hammered in the back of his mind. Nothing was worse than watching a carefully planned hit go to shit, but what if it went wrong and took far too long? That's when things got dicey. Ammo may run out, reinforcements may arrive, someone may be injured, and there may be no way to extract them. As soon as time became an issue, the chances of failure began to mount.

"Cat Four. What exactly is going on? " Shaun inquired, his voice low and growling.

"Cat Five and Cat Two have been apprehended. The targets have built a bunker in the warehouse. Getting rid of resistance pockets on the outside. Do you have a clear shot on anyone in the warehouse, Cat Four? ”

Jerome's voice came across the line strained and irritated. It didn't take long to realize that Shaun wasn't the only one who was tense about the situation. He looked through the scope at the warehouse, seeing fleeting shadows on the walls but not a single person he could have shot.

They were all pressed up against the walls, far away from windows and doors. He could theoretically try his luck and shoot through the wall, but there was no telling if he'd actually hit anything.

"Cat Four is a negative. "I'm going to switch nests."

Shaun's stomach lurched as the words left his mouth, but he knew it had to be done. He quickly disassembled the rifle, packing it away in about ten seconds before lugging it up on his back. His boots hit the soft ground below as he slid down the tree in complete silence, and he took off in a soundless run. Being a shifter had its advantages in their line of work, and stealth was one of them.

The heat of the fires raging below him could be felt all the way up on the bank he stood on. He scrambled up a rocky ledge, flung the gun in front of him, and then clambered up after it, gaining a new perspective on the warehouse and its residents that wasn't obstructed by fire.

Shaun quickly reloaded the weapon, noticing that the sun was rising. When he threw himself down on his stomach and got into his position, he heard a new sound, one he hadn't heard before that night. Crawling into the underbrush in search of the camp, car tires.

Shit. That was just what we needed.

“Cat Four. Possible reinforcements, vehicle sighted," he stated into the radio, noticing movements on the far right but too concealed by trees to distinguish who or how many were in the automobile.

“Noted. The warehouse is the goal, I repeat, the warehouse is the goal."

Shaun nodded and scanned the windows one by one. The folks inside were generally sitting quietly, but when the car approached, they began to move. Shaun noticed someone attempting to peer out again, not satisfied with one glance but looking for another.

He murmured beneath his breath, pressing the trigger, "Got you."

The man was slumped over with half of his body outside the warehouse while a cloud of red covered the exterior wall. When he took another aim, Shaun noticed him jerk once and experience throat drying. However, that shot had been effective. The automobile was approaching, and whomever was inside no longer felt secure. Four individuals suddenly emerged from the warehouse, racing at top speed while attempting to zigzag between the structures.

Shaun fired again, but this time it smacked into the ground behind a man's heel, making him swear. Three guys, followed by the smaller, leaner shape of a lady, were all he could count. His hair trigger instinctively aligned on the woman's shoulder blades as he took aim. He attempted it, but his hand stumbled. He was prevented from firing by something inside of him.

He took a sharp intake as she peered over her shoulder, her emerald eyes flashing—he somehow knew they were green, even from this distance. She was stunning, to put it simply. Even when drenched in perspiration, the woman's long, black hair bounced up and down over her shoulders. high cheekbones and somewhat almond-shaped eyes. her body, too? It was almost comical how close his jaguar came to forcing its way out of him and charging down to tackle her. Curvy and luscious, yet yet powerful and competent.

“The fuck’s wrong with you,” he growled to himself, shaking his head.

Shaun liked women just as much as the next guy locked in a goddamn sandpit for months on end, but no woman had ever so badly affected his thinking or, worse still, his aim as she did. Whether they were male or female, soldiers were still soldiers, in his eyes. But she? The way her arms were tense as she ran beside the men, the way her full lips were squeezed into a narrow line as she peered back and searched... It was very hypnotic.

He growled into the comm, struggling mightily to restore consciousness, "Cat Four, targets on the move."

The Jeep smashed into the property at that same moment as gunshots rained down all around it. Shaun's heart skipped a beat as he saw the automobile roar into the space directly in front of Jordan, trapping him between the car and the four people sprinting in its direction while keeping Tom, who had been with him but was now on the other side of the car, out of view.

The rest of Squad Six desperately tried to distract the thugs with enough gunfire to give Jordan a fighting chance, but it seemed virtually inevitable that they would lose one guy this time, despite their best efforts. Shaun's palms were moist with sweat as he pushed his eye to the scope and saw a shadowy figure in the car. He pressed before he knew if he had a clean shot or not, not caring. The way the Jeep jerked to the side and nearly collided with a building told him he'd at least bought them another second.

Even yet, Jordan was still being pursued by the four individuals, at least three of whom were armed. He had knelt down because he realized he was trapped and was aiming at the group. Jordan, however, collapsed and screamed as blood spurted out of his right hand after taking a fortunate hit to it. When things looked their worst, Jerome trusted each member of his unit to make the proper choices, thus the comms were deathly silent.

But it wasn't Squad Six who came to Jordan's aid that night. Shaun just had one bullet left, so he selected the one nearest to Jordan. He started reloading as soon as he fired the trigger, his gaze fixed on the action. One of the big, burly men took aim, and Shaun expected to see his friend's skull split apart like a watermelon, but it never occurred.

The lady who'd run so stoically with the guys tackled the guy with the pistol, as if she'd changed in front of his eyes. She was quick and brutal. Kicking the barrel up, she jerked forward, yanking the guy almost twice her size over her shoulder and onto the ground with her elbow. She snatched the rifle from his grip and stamped her buttocks on his neck, aiming towards the last man standing.

But he was also quick. She didn't even get a chance to fire when the guy smacked her across the face with the stock, knocking her to the ground. Shaun had never been so furious in his whole life. When the car spun around and the guy who'd taken down the girl climbed in, pulling his half-conscious companion with him, the bullets snapped into place.

The Jeep made a sharp curve, almost missing Jordan and the girl, who were spread out on the dusty campground ground. The Jeep was riddled with bullets as it sped away with at least three individuals still alive inside. The truck was armor-plated, as shown by the scratch of metal and the high-pitched noises of rounds flying wide. Shaun had to consider himself fortunate that he'd packed bigger toys than the adversary had anticipated. Things could have been a lot worse if he hadn't gotten that shot and taken out the driver.

“All units, move in. "Man down," Jerome said dryly, no doubt in his voice.

Shaun put his gear together, vibrating with wrath. It has been a long time since a Squad Six assignment went so horribly wrong. He was used to seeing trash like this in the military, but with Jerome and the rest of the lads, it was unusual.

There was no one to blame either. Their recon had given them all they needed to know, or so they believed, and they'd misjudged the fuckers they'd faced.

It hit me square in the face.

Shaun was rushing through the bush, his breathing steady and his eyes filled with hatred. He drew out his handgun as he reached the perimeter, which was still lighted with burning fires, because there was no communication on the comms.

She'd better be OK.

As he went onto the grounds, skulking past the homes, the notion hit him like a freight train. Most of them had been moved out by the rest of the squad before the Jeep arrived, but one couldn't be too sure. He didn't need to get capped by some overzealous moron now when the game was almost done.

He arrived in time to watch Tim and Tom drag Jordan onto a field stretcher, Jordan's face distorted with rage and anguish. Of course, the medic was the one who had half his hand blown off. Jerome was kneeling next to the girl, and Shaun could feel the air becoming more charged with each step closer to her. Even when she was lying prone with her lips open and her eyes closed, she had a pull on him that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What happened to Mitch?" Shaun questioned, bending down next to Jerome, his gaze following Tim and Tom as they carried Jordan away.

Tim was bleeding from his shin, and Tom was gripping his shoulder, but the Crawleys weren't going to be held back by a few flesh wounds. It seemed as if Shaun was trying to avoid staring directly at the woman on the ground in front of him, as if she were the sun and gazing at her would blind him. Shaun felt a tight and intense rush of envy as Jerome placed his fingers on her pulse.

"Just in case, he's emptying out the side buildings. You already know how those two are. If Jordan goes insane and Mitch notices it, we might have to sedate Mitch before punching Jordan out," Jerome said, his eyes clouded.

"This entire thing went to shit, huh?" Shaun said dryly, glancing down at the woman.

When he looked at her face up close, it took his breath away; so peaceful, but so determined.

"You could repeat that," Jerome agreed. "Did you chance to notice what happened to Jordan?" ”

"He became entangled between the Jeep and the warehouse employees." "I took one of them out," Shaun replied, gazing to the left to see the lifeless body of a large guy who was halfway through his transformation into a wolf.

When shifters were terminally injured, they'd sometimes let the animal take over in the hopes of making it out before their strength ran out. A predator on adrenaline might accomplish far more than a human. This person hadn't been that fortunate. Shaun's brow furrowed. A wolf. It's not surprising.

"However, it was her who saved Jordan."

“Yeah?

" Jerome inquired, frowning as he raised his head to study the surroundings around them.

"She tackled the guy with the gun and took him out. She's not some random drug addict and dealer, lieutenant. She has experience."

"Do you believe she's one of us? " Jerome inquired, cocking his brow.

"She's not one of them, for sure," Shaun grumbled.

Before curtly nodding, Jerome appeared to consider this for a little moment. Shaun was aware of the procedure. If she was found in a situation like this, they were meant to shoot her in the head and forget she ever existed. However, she had saved one of their brothers, which had to at least be cause for a brief investigation.

“Fine. Tag and bag the person. Given that we didn't really have a clean sweep, I believe we require someone to question.”

Shaun nodded in agreement while adjusting the strap on the bulky sniper backpack.

After standing up and checking his ammunition, Jerome sent out a low whistle, which was answered by a similar whistle from behind them. There had to be Mitch. Shaun was briefly left alone with his sleeping beauty when Jerome departed at a brisk jog. He considered phoning the Crawleys so that someone might arrive with a stretcher, but the idea of another man being close to her made his skin crawl.

Instead, he tenderly scooped her up and cradled her to his chest by looping his arms under her shoulders and legs. His entire being was electrified. Her head flopped into his shoulder, and as Shaun inhaled, his jaguar roared with the utmost ferocity and darkness he had ever experienced.

He owned her. That much was decided by the large cat.

Now all that remained was for the person to board.