Chapter 7 - Into the Fire
I didn't hesitate. I raised the butt of my rifle against the heavy steel service door, planted my boot against the frame, and kicked with explosive force. The magnetic lock sheared off with a violent pop, and I spilled into the smoke-filled corridor of the Vanguard facility.
The air inside was thick with acrid white smoke and the sharp, coppery smell of cordite. Alarms wailed in a deafening, rhythmic pulse.
Through my thermal goggles, I tracked the heat signatures of hostile mercenaries moving down the hallway toward the front lobby, rifles raised.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My suppressor hissed three times. Three hostile contractors dropped silently to the linoleum floor before they even realized where the shots were coming from. I stepped over their bodies, moving with the cold, calculated efficiency that had earned me the top spot in the clandestine division—a rank far above anything a standard BUD/S class could ever comprehend.
Reaching the central atrium, the scale of the disaster became painfully clear.
The front lobby was a crater of twisted steel and shattered glass. Two of Daniel’s teammates were pinned behind a marble reception desk, returning blind fire against a wave of mercenaries stationed on the upper mezzanine.
And in the center of the smoking debris lay Daniel.
His pristine white uniform was scorched black and stained with blood. He was crawling across the floor, clutching his side, his rifle lying ten feet out of reach. Standing over him with a tactical shotgun raised was a heavily armored mercenary, grinning behind a black ballistic mask.
"End of the line, Navy," the mercenary sneered, leveling the barrel at Daniel's chest.
I didn't call out. I raised my HK416, squeezed the trigger twice, and sent two 5.56mm rounds straight through the mercenary's ceramic chest plate. He collapsed instantly, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.
Daniel blinked through the smoke, coughing violently as he looked up at the figure standing over him.
Through the tinted glass of my tactical helmet, I looked down at my brother.
"Still think I'm a dropout, little brother?" I asked, my voice distorted by the comms filter.
Daniel’s eyes widened in sheer disbelief as he recognized my voice. "Sam... you... how...?"
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"Save the questions for the debrief," I snapped, grabbing the collar of his tactical vest and dragging him behind the concrete pillar where his surviving teammates were taking cover. "Get your men together and secure the perimeter. Marcus Thorne is trying to escape through the subterranean tunnels."
Before Daniel could utter a single word, I turned and sprinted toward the executive elevator shaft, leaving the golden boy of the Hayes family sitting in the dust, finally realizing what real strength looked like.
