Chapter 23 - The Unbroken Sisterhood
The air on the ridge exploded into violence. Suppressed gunfire clashed against the thunderous bark of federal shotguns as the tactical teams pushed through the perimeter.
I moved with clinical precision, cutting the distance between the tree line and the primary detonation terminal. Two mercenaries trying to set a secondary charge on the ventilation shaft were neutralized before they could connect the blasting caps.
"Detonator secure!" I yelled into my comms, ripping the wires clean out of the primary console. "The ridge is safe!"
"Sergeant, watch your six!" Alvarez’s voice screamed through my earpiece.
A heavy concussive blow struck my tactical vest from behind, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs and sending me sprawling into the mud. I rolled instantly, raising my sidearm, but a steel combat boot crushed down on my wrist, sending the weapon flying.
Standing over me was a man with cold, dead eyes, wearing a tactical windbreaker with a discreet Department of Defense emblem. His face was scarred, his stance that of a veteran commander.
"You should have stayed buried, Sergeant Vance," he whispered, leveling a suppressed Glock at my forehead. "Evelyn was weak. She thought framing you would be enough. But Aegis Ridge doesn't leave loose ends."
Before his finger could finish the trigger pull, the deafening roar of a diesel engine tore through the brush.
My unmarked 1998 Ford F-250 slammed through the tree line, hurtling directly toward the excavation pit. Behind the wheel, her face set in fierce, unrelenting fury, was Hannah.
The mercenary commander dove sideways as the heavy steel bumper missed him by inches, smashing straight into the support pillar of the mercenary communication tent.
"Get away from my sister!" Hannah screamed, leaning out the shattered driver's window and firing three wild, desperate rounds from the 9mm I had given her. One round clipped the commander's shoulder, throwing him off balance.
I didn't hesitate. I sprang up from the mud, tackling him to the earth, disarming him in a fluid sweep and pinning his neck beneath my combat boot.
"It's over," I panted, rain washing the blood and mud down my face. "Your operation is dead."
The man coughed up a ragged, bloody laugh. Even pinned beneath my boot, his eyes held no defeat—only a terrifying, mocking triumph.
"You think this stops at the ridge, Vance?" he wheezed, his bloody teeth grinning up at the stormy sky. "Look up, little soldier."
Above the ridge, emerging slowly through the dense storm clouds, a massive, unmarked stealth transport helicopter descended with deafening power. And through my comm-link, an emergency priority broadcast suddenly overrode the federal channel—a transmission from the regional director’s office in Washington.
*"All units stand down! By presidential executive order, Project Iron Basin has been classified under Level-One National Security Protocol. All personnel on site are to surrender their weapons immediately. Sergeant Rebecca Vance is remanded to federal custody—effective now."*
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Hannah stepped out of the truck, her eyes wide with horror as the red targeting lasers from the descending helicopter painted both of our chests.
I stood over the fallen commander, looking up into the swirling darkness above, realizing that the conspiracy my parents had bound me to had only just pulled back its first veil.