Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Meridian stepped out first, and the air changed with his every step. Stifling and predatory.
He didn’t rush, never did, as if the world operated at his pace.
He wore black gear that looked like a designer suit built for war. His overcoat was sleek black onyx, with a high collar, and woven through with Armox steel plates, strong enough to stop high-velocity rifle rounds.
Ex walked at his right shoulder with the same level of calm fierceness.
In response to Meridian’s presence, the command PA clicked on overhead.
“All tactical mission divisions ready. Launch full Raven mobilization. Field code: Black Reaper Active. Airlift priority one.”
The long hallway beyond the concourse leading to the helipad was lined with nonessential personnel.
Scar expected stoic faces, lazy salutes, or simple waves goodbye, but he was surprised when they all began clapping and cheering them on.
People shouted encouragement, battle wishes, and some prayed in small huddles.
Scar wanted to take Gage’s hand so badly it made his fingers ache. But he couldn’t turn his mind away from the battle.
The man walking beside him now wasn’t just his husband, it was The Saint—the righteous, angel-warrior.
Heaven help anyone standing on the wrong side of good tonight.
White Ravens
Gage
The Ravens jet ate up the sky, flying at a speed of nearly seven hundred miles per hour. Every minute in the air was a minute the hostages lost.
So far, there’d been no government mobilization by Montenegro or a response from local law enforcement.
While in transit, the Shadow Division’s breach-and-entry unit designed the penetration points, while Command and Strategy coordinated the takedown sequence.
They’d been briefed once and once was enough.
Gage’s directions were clear.
Locate, isolate, and shield the hostages until his brothers dismantled every cell of the militia and the field transport moved in for extraction.
Radio static hissed once they were in position.
“Comms check,” Corvo said, taking lead handler. “All divisions, roll call.”
“Black,” Meridian and Ex answered at the same time.
“Brown,” Mirage said. Grace followed with a double-click on the channel.
“Green,” Valor rumbled. “Green check,” Zorion added.
“White,” Scar answered.
“Saint online,” Gage said. “Roz, vision check.”
“All cams clear, Saint,” Roz said, sounding as if he were right beside him.
Gage squatted on the ground at the forest perimeter. He kept his breathing measured as he let the subtle vibrations of the earth speak to him.
Smoke carried on the wind, the ugly kind that came from burning wood and scorched metals.
The village was about a hundred yards ahead of him, close enough he could still hear scattered pockets of shouting, a thin wail of someone trying not to scream, and the occasional crack of gunfire that sounded like whips snapping.
“Ravens in positions,” Spectre said. “Headquarters, we are go for green. How call?”
“Go for green,” Jo answered immediately.
“Ravens, you’re green. Call set,” Corvo directed.
“White set,” Scar said. “South approach.”
“Brown set,” Mirage said. “East roofline.”
“Green set,” Valor said. “North side. Point-eight clicks on terrain.”
“Black set,” Meridian said. “Front and center.”
Gage held his cane folded in his right hand, with his left extended in front of him.
Roz came in on their private comms. “Saint, you’ve got three armed contacts thirty meters off your twelve. Two posted side entrance of the church.”
Corvo’s voice darkened on one word. “Execute.”
A whisper cut the air above him, clean and fast…then another…and another.
Zorion’s arrows whipped over his head in rapid sequence, the shafts striking the ground and exploding on impact. Not with fire, with dense smoke that swallowed light and rolled across the ground.
Blacks went first because the Blacks always went first.
Somewhere, a man barked panicked orders in another language. By the time the militia realized what was happening, who’d come for them, they’d all be dead.
“They’re scattering. Move.”
Gage squeezed, and his cane snapped out to its full length.
He slid the sharpest end along the ground, pushing debris from his path and stepping easily over bulging roots and fallen branches.
Roz’s voice was tight and positive as he set him up to infiltrate.
“You got three hostiles left in the corridor. Two, right corner. Four moving fast in the side pocket.”
Gage tilted his head. He wasn’t just listening for steps. He was measuring and counting them. Determining weight by the depth of each footfall, height by the way their breath cut through the air.
He dipped low and inched closer as Roz counted him down.
“Fifty feet…thirty…hostile at the door shifted left, weapon raised.”
Gage didn’t slow as he reached into the rear compartment of his vest and removed four small mag-lock disks.
Gunfire erupted from weapons far more advanced and deadly than those the militia had.
Grace’s and Meridian’s Smith & Wesson and Desert Eagles.
But he stayed focused on Roz.
“Twenty…visibility reduced two hundred meters.”
They couldn’t see him. They relied on their vision to fight…he didn’t.
“Ten feet, up the pipeline.”
Gage flung his disk in a low sweep. The magnets snapped against the rifle muzzles raised in his direction, making it impossible to aim.
With his left hand free, he pulled his shock baton and rushed forward.