Iris (Mike Bravo Ops 1)

“That’s our cue,” Atlas says.

We reach the edge of the forest, and under the blanket of dark, make our way to the building with quick feet.

We get as close to the brick as we can, flattening our backs against it while we slink around the corner of the palace.

Atlas has his M4A1 rifle ready to take out anyone in our way. I’m close behind him, Zeus is next, and Decaf is at the back, covering our asses from anyone who might come from behind us.

“Masks on,” Atlas orders.

Once we’re all set, he releases two flash-bangs into the palace.

And when people start running out, they fall to the ground like swatted flies.

I send up a salute to Angel, wherever she’s found her perch, and then put my hand on Atlas’s shoulder while Zeus does the same to me, and we head inside where it’s smoky and dark.

We go in the same way we plan to go out—shooting our way through.

Once we make it past the flash-bangs, we move room to room, trying to find our guy.

Atlas turns a corner and fires, the telltale sound of someone dropping to the ground hitting my ears a split second later.

We scour the large building, checking the places on the map that Ghost sent us, but come up empty. The anticipation in my gut is trying to bubble over, especially when we make it to the last place on the list.

There are nerves over this being the place he’s hiding and doubt that our intel has been correct, but when Decaf and Zeus take up room either side of the door, and I cover Atlas while he kicks the door down, my heart sinks to my stomach.

It’s empty.

“Run through all the places again,” Atlas says.

“We don’t have fucking time for this,” I say.

Any minute now, we’re going to be surrounded by men who have no doubt realized the others were a distraction.

“You really think he’s been moving as we’ve made our way through the palace?” Zeus asks. “There has to be somewhere else to check.”

Zeus is right. But where?

A noise from down the hall, the sound of something being knocked over, startles us, and we’re all on alert.

Weapons at the ready, we follow the noise, but there’s no one there. We search high and low in the long corridor, but there’s nothing.

I take a step, and the floorboards creak under my feet. Not in a worn-out from use kind of way, but in the it’s not fully secured kind of way.

I pause and look down at my feet, and that’s when I see movement below us in the slight cracks between the boards. “They’re underneath us,” I whisper.

Then the sound of an automatic rifle cocking goes off.

“Run,” I yell.

But as I try to get away, red-hot fire breaks across my skin. The sound of gunfire hits my ear one second too late, and I fall to the ground, my left leg unable to hold me up.

Pain ricochets all around my body as I use my arms to crawl forward and away from where they can reach us from below.

“Iris,” Atlas yells. “Iris is down. Iris is down.”

Decaf comes to my side and helps drag me to the end of the corridor, where he props me against the wall.

My vision blurs, and as I lift my hand in front of my face, all I see is red. “That can’t be good.”

Decaf puts pressure on my leg, and I cry out in pain.

“You’re a sadistic bastard,” I grit out.

I’m expecting a laugh or a sarcastic retort, but what he says is so much worse. It’s a death sentence.

“I think the bullet nicked his femoral artery.”

Well, fuck.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Saint

I can’t breathe. I can’t even move. “Did Decaf say what I think he said?”

“I fucking hope not,” Ghost says.

I’ve been watching every single moment play out on Ghost’s screens, from Trav’s point of view with the diversion, to Kevlar, Scout, and Alphabet leading most of Farouk’s men away, and then Iris and the guys going in.

I’ve been on edge the whole time, pacing the room and complaining—much to Ghost’s annoyance—and now, with my heart in my throat, all I can do is watch as Decaf tries to save Iris’s life and Zeus and Atlas try to hold off the attacks from underground.

Decaf’s bodycam is constantly shaky, so I can’t really make out the damage, but what I can see, I don’t like. With Iris on the ground, his cam shows nothing but roof.

“Can you confirm Iris’s status?” Ghost asks.

“I don’t fucking know,” Decaf says. “He won’t stop bleeding.”

“You need a tourniquet. I’m getting Trav to go in now to get him.” Ghost turns to the keyboard to his left and sends out a message to Trav via the computer.

Iris in big trouble. He might not make it.

The words fill me with dread, but it’s nothing compared to the helplessness of being behind these monitors instead of out there with him.