Chapter 6 - Brothers in Arms
The rogue operatives stood in total silence, blocking the hallway with a wall of tactical shields.
I recognized the man leading the formation as Sergeant Davis, a soldier I had once trusted with my life.
"Stand down, Blake," Davis ordered, his voice distorted by his heavy helmet communicator.
"You sold your soul to a billionaire's kid, Davis?" I asked, gripping my rifle tightly.
"He pays ten times what the government does, and he treats us like kings," Davis replied coldly.
I did not waste another second trying to reason with traitors.
I threw a flashbang grenade perfectly over the top of their shield wall.
The blinding flash and deafening boom shattered their tight defensive formation.
Ghost Squad surged forward like a tidal wave of precision and violence.
Miller tackled the closest rogue soldier, driving him through the heavy wooden doors of an adjacent office.
Hayes and Carter laid down a wall of suppressing fire, forcing the remaining men into cover.
I charged directly at Davis, ducking under the barrel of his rifle.
I struck him hard in the sternum with the stock of my weapon, driving the breath from his lungs.
He drew a combat knife, swinging it wildly toward my throat.
I caught his wrist, twisted his arm until the joint popped, and swept his legs out from under him.
The fight was brutal, fast, and completely devoid of mercy.
Within two minutes, the rogue operatives were disarmed and neutralized on the marble floor.
I knelt beside Davis, pulling a heavy zip-tie tightly around his wrists.
"Cameron took her to the old municipal dam," Davis groaned, spitting blood onto the floor.
"If she is dead, I will come back here and end you," I promised him quietly.
We left the traitors tied up for the federal investigators and sprinted to the roof.
A police helicopter was sitting on the helipad, its keys still dangling in the ignition.
Hayes, our best pilot, jumped into the cockpit and fired up the twin engines.
We lifted off into the stormy night sky, flying dangerously fast toward the edge of the city.
I looked down at a video tablet I had confiscated from Davis’s tactical vest.
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The screen displayed a live feed of Emily strapped to a medical bed inside a glass room.
The room was rapidly filling with dark, freezing water, and it was already up to her chest.
