Page 131 of Rescuing Mia

Mitzy assures me the specially designed hoodie will keep Mia’s head protected. Protected from a bullet’s penetration, but not from the concussive force it delivers.

It’s a shit plan.

Is it some sort of sick graveyard humor that I hope Mia’s attackers go for a center-of-mass shot rather than a headshot?

The air grows thick with tension as we wait, hearts pounding in the stillness. Mia’s attackers won’t stay hidden for long.

“Count ten more breaching the perimeter.” Mitzy’s smooth tone surprises me. “They sent a fucking army.”

“Copy that.” Ethan responds from outside, where he’s stationed with the rest of Charlie team. “We’ll keep ‘em busy.”

There’s no reason to ask where the attackers are coming from. Mitzy sends that information to the HUDs they wear outside. Unlike Blake and I, who are in civvies, the rest of Charlie team is fully decked out in tactical black with HUDs.

All combat information, such as night vision and thermal imaging, is sent to the HUDs. Blake wasn’t kidding about having cool tech for this job.

“Rigel?” Mia shakes like a leaf, cowering behind the couch.

“Stay down.” My command is clipped and curt. I can’t afford any distractions.

As if on cue, a window shatters, and all hell breaks loose.

Glass shards explode inward as the first shots ring out. I drop into a crouch, my weapon raised and ready. Blake is already returning fire, his movements precise and controlled.

I risk a glance at Mia, who huddles behind the couch with Stormy. Gunfire from Charlie team fills the air as they engage with the second wave of attackers.

Sounds like a fucking war out there.

I move to the window, taking aim at the shadowy figures advancing on the house. Beside me, Blake fires off a series of shots, his face set in grim determination.

We fall into a familiar rhythm, covering each other as we engage the enemy. The men set against us are well-trained, their movements swift and calculated, but Blake and I have years of SEAL team experience on our side.

The crack of a bullet passes close to my head, and the sting of shattered glass peppers my cheek. I ignore it, focusing on the threat at hand.

Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood reaches my ears. Anarmed assailant breaches the front door. I spin around in time to see a dark figure lunging toward Mia.

I meet him head-on, engaging in close-quarters combat. He’s fast. He’s strong. His blows are precise and lethal.

But I’m faster.

Stronger.

And I’m determined to take the fucker down.

I block his strikes, countering with a series of my own. We grapple, each trying to gain the upper hand. Blake continues firing, holding off other attackers.

The assassin lands a solid punch to my ribs, and the air rushes from my lungs.

But I don’t falter.

I retaliate with a swift kick, sending him stumbling backward.

We circle each other, eyes locked, searching for an opening. My MMA training takes over, instinct guiding my movements. I feint left, then strike right, my fist connecting with his jaw.

He staggers, and I press my advantage. A series of rapid blows, each one landing with brutal efficiency. The assassin fights back, but his strength wanes.

With a final, devastating strike, I end the fight. The assassin crumples to the ground, unmoving.

Dead.