Page 52 of Skull

She refused to meet his gaze, focusing instead on the acid rush in her chest, that familiar bite of shame coupled with the cold practicality that had come to define her. She remembered Nacho’s lessons: never show weakness, never leave a threat unresolved. That same father had set her down this bloody path, shaping her ruthlessness, forging her as the weapon she had become.

Even now, as she prepared to cross another line, she felt the weight of the inevitable consequences. The Americans were going to come for her, with a vengeance they rarely unleashed on foreign soil. She could almost hear the roar of approaching engines. In a fleeting flash, she wondered if any of this had been worth it…if there was still time to turn back.

Then she shut that thought away. She couldn’t afford doubt, not when she was this close to freefall.

“Do it,” Pincho repeated, the words scraping her throat raw. She tightened her grip on the pearl-handled pistol, forcing herself to stand tall as a hail of footsteps followed her command. The sun lowered outside, stretching the room’s shadows to monstrous proportions. She realized those shadows were but reflections of her own twisted choices.

Leigh’s pulsethrummed in her ears as she sat in the dim cell, her back pressed against the cold concrete wall. Hazard lay unmoving on the narrow cot, his breathing shallow and erratic. The sight of him like this, unconscious, with his head swathed in makeshift bandages, filled her with a dread she couldn’t shake. Was he ever going to be the same man she’d promised to marry? Or was she going to lose him altogether before they even had the chance to begin their life together?

Pincho’s deadline was nearly up. Time had almost run out. Leigh gritted her teeth, fighting the wave of desperation that crested every time she glanced at Hazard’s motionless form. If Hazard’s team didn’t get here soon, if the US Navy SEALs, the Justice Department, JSOC…all of them…couldn’t break through this fortress of violence, she and Hazard would vanish into the blackness that Pincho commanded.

She still reeled from the knowledge that the man they had put away, Angel Alzate, had been nothing more than a convenient smokescreen. They had believed he was the head of the snake, but the real mastermind had always been Pincho herself. Every second that slipped by was one more second Leigh had to accept their failure in stopping the cycle of bloodshed that Pincho now carried on with chilling efficiency.

Her eyes settled on Hazard’s face. She reached out, trembling fingers brushing across his cheek, recalling how he’d whispered their future like a promise. She smiled at how excited he’d gotten over a garage, and all of it, marriage, a home, a life worth living. Now his skull was fractured, his body caught in a coma he couldn’t fight alone. Pincho’s father-in-law, the only one with a shred of compassion in this den of cruelty, had begged Pincho to allow Hazard real medical care. But Pincho had refused—no hospitals. Leigh’s heart clenched to think that if Hazard couldn’t pull through with minimal aid…she might have only these last few hours with him.

She pictured Iceman, Anna, Hummingbird, and Strekoza, and his whole team of SEAL brothers, the loyal, tight-knit circle she knew would move heaven and earth to rescue Hazard if they could. Her chest tightened at the thought of their faces twisting in grief when they learned the truth, if it came to that. It would devastate them all, shattering the team that Hazard was a part of, and in their hearts, always feeling as if they were a man short.

“I’m sorry,” Leigh whispered, though she wasn’t certain if she was speaking to Hazard, or to the team, or to herself for all that she was going to lose. If she did make it out alive, she would prosecute Pincho to the fullest extent of the law. The US wouldn’t stand by while a single cartel spread a web of murder, corruption, and filthy drugs across its soil. But if she and Hazard were lost, she prayed the SEALs, the Justice Department, everyone they’d worked with, would bring Pincho to justice.

A sudden clamor echoed in the distance. Heavy footsteps thudded down the corridor, and Leigh’s blood ran cold. Their time had run out. Her heart hammered, but she steadied herself, slipping onto the cot beside Hazard, tucking herself close to his side. If this was the end, she would meet it with her chin held high, determined not to give Pincho, or any of her henchmen, the satisfaction of her fear.

The lock clicked and screeched as it turned, and the door swung open with a slow, ominous groan. She wrapped her arms around the man she would have taken as her husband as the seconds ticked down to the end of her life, pressing her cheek to his, breathing in his unique scent and the warmth of his body, gaining comfort from him. She could only be grateful that her last moments would be with him. And that would be enough.

Skull caughthis breath as he crouched low beneath the tangled palms, the heavy press of humidity clinging to every inch of his fatigues. Moisture dripped from the broad leaves overhead, and rivulets of sweat ran down his neck, soaking the collar of his camouflage shirt. All around him, his teammates, Boomer, Kodiak, GQ, Breakneck, and Preacher moved with methodical precision, guided by the cool, controlled commands of their master chief. Bones padded silently in the muddy undergrowth, nose to the ground yet ears pricked for the faintest sign of trouble. Walker and Strekoza flanked the SEALs with barely a sound, their eyes reflecting the same unrelenting focus that burned in the gaze of the men around them.

The Darién Gap itself felt like a living thing. Vines and roots seemed to reach out to snag boots and rifle slings with every step. Heat radiated from the swampy ground, and insects buzzed relentlessly, striking at exposed skin. As Skull inched forward, his heart pounded in time with each squelch of the wet earth underfoot. They were running out of time. Hazard and Leigh were locked away inside Pincho’s fortress, and there was no next plan—this was it. A last-ditch attempt. If they failed, the idea of what Pincho might do to their captive comrades hollowed out Skull’s chest with an ache of dread.

Underneath that dread, though, flared an unwavering resolve. Even fear, in this moment, sharpened his senses instead of dulling them. Skull felt the comforting weight of his carbine as he cradled it close. Night-vision goggles rested just above the brim of his boonie hat, ready to slip down at the master chief’s signal. Every click of gear, every quiet exchange of hand signals reminded him of the countless times they had drilled for missions like this, but the stakes had never felt so impossibly high.

Iceman glanced back for a split second, catching Skull’s eye. In that subtle tilt of the head, Skull understood everything.Keep it together. We move as one. Failure is not an option.Skull nodded, inhaling the thick, wet air as if it might steady the roiling in his gut. Bones whined softly, sensing his handler’s tension. Skull reached out, a comforting touch on the dog’s flank.

They pressed forward, forging through tangles of twisted vegetation, rifles at the ready. Branches snapped underfoot. Around them, the rainforest roared with life, but the team marched in disciplined silence. Hours, minutes, time lost meaning in that hot, suffocating green labyrinth. Sweat blurred Skull’s vision and burned his eyes, but he forced himself to blink it away, ignoring every distraction for the sake of those two lives at risk.

Finally, a gap in the jungle canopy revealed a distant glow of floodlights, strobing through the tree line. Pincho’s mansion fortress loomed beyond the dense foliage, a sprawling compound of concrete walls and razor wire. Even from here, Skull could see armed sentries prowling the perimeter. He felt his heart tighten. This was the moment. Either they reached Hazard and Leigh now, or everything they had fought for would be lost.

Skull’s muscles tensed as Iceman signaled them into formation. Tactics took over. Each man had a sector to cover, a precise role to play. Boomer and Kodiak readied their suppressed weapons, scanning the watchtowers. GQ and Breakneck tapped at their comm devices, eyes on the outer guard rotation. Walker and Strekoza ghosted into the shadows to position themselves for infiltration. Bones lowered his body, ears perked and muzzle alert, prepared to sprint or stand guard at Skull’s command.

Skull couldn’t stop picturing Hazard and Leigh, worn-down, Hazard gravely injured, somewhere in that fortress. His fear built with every beat of his heart, a tight coil threatening to snap if he let himself dwell on it. But he welcomed the adrenaline, let it pulse through his veins, fueling the iron determination that only a warrior on a rescue mission could carry. He allowed himself a brief thought for his dad, a quiet urging for him to hang on. This was almost over. His mom’s texts had only told him that he was still fighting. His rock.

One silent breath, and he willed the terror into submission. There would be no margin for error now. Danger, heat, humidity were just more obstacles, like the thick walls or armed guards they’d soon confront. Each was something to be overcome, just one more step on the path to retrieve their team. That knowledge steadied him.

He looked from Iceman to Bones and then to the compound once more. They were out of time. This was their last shot.

“Move,” Iceman ordered in a low rasp. And with that single word, Skull led the charge, fear be damned. They’d come too far to leave anyone behind. They would succeed or they would never leave this jungle alive.

“All right, listen up,” Iceman growled softly, his voice calm but charged with authority. He moved his gaze from one operative to the next. The team crouched behind a thick tangle of palm fronds, the sweat sliding down his temples as he listened to Iceman’s whispered orders. Despite the cloak of darkness in the jungle, the compound’s floodlights painted patches of bright white across the perimeter walls. Skull’s pulse hammered in his ears as he glanced around at his teammates, each man tense, keyed up, and ready to strike. “Breakneck, you go west. Preacher, find your nest in that tree line to the east. Overwatch. Target anything that moves in those towers, gate security, and any patrols that swing our way. Report movement the second you see it. As soon as we breach, take out those lights.”

“Copy,” Breakneck and Preacher replied in unison.

“The kid doesn’t get to overshadow me this time,” Preacher said.

“Don’t be so sure about that old man,” Breakneck said, a cool, self-assured edge in his tone. He shifted the long sniper rifle on his back and faded into the night toward higher ground, boots making barely a whisper against the damp soil.

“Damn, cocky kid,” Preacher grumbled as he too was lost in the shadows.

“Boomer, Kodiak, front gate. You’ll be our battering ram. Plant the charges. On my mark, blow it and push through.”

“Copy that,” Boomer said, carefully steadying an explosive pack across his shoulder. Kodiak nodded silently, adjusting his suppressed rifle.

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