Page 41 of Freeing Camila

“Sorry to disturb your rest.”

“I’m not. I’ve been waiting for this day,” he confessed anxious to get started. He hoped this was it. He hoped El Sombra wouldn’t slip from their grasp again.

“See you soon,” Flint said before hanging up. He turned to wake Cammie, his heart pounding with anticipation to finally end his three-year battle with a shadow.

Jeeves arrivedin Bogota early the next day and met up with the SEAL team. They spent the daylight hours driving to their destination where he’d gotten to know a bit about the team, surprised to learn they were all either married or in committed relationships. Mustang, who led the team, even met the love of his life while saving a cargo ship from pirates. Each of the others also had their own harrowing tales to tell regarding the women in their lives. But they all had one thing in common?they were all deeply protective of the people they cared about. And that included Cammie.

Learning about his burgeoning relationship with Cammie prompted his new friends to advise him to come clean about learning her story from Baker long before she’d told it to him. They loved Cammie like a sister and only wanted the best for her. He wasn’t so sure if that was him, but he didn’t think he could walk away now.

A few clicks out from their target, they pulled over and walked the rest of the way. Stalking through the jungle, Jeeves turned his focus to the task ahead. Baker assured them through satellite imaging that there had been no movement at the compound, meaning their target was still present. The hi-tech facial recognition program, a creation of Haley’s that was far beyond Jeeves’ understanding, had successfully matched an image of El Sombra. Now, as he stalked through the trees, he had to hope and pray the intel was correct and nothing had changed since their last contact with Baker.

The jungle pressed in on all sides—humid, dense, alive with sound and danger. Jeeves crouched low in the underbrush, sweat clinging to the back of his neck beneath the weight of his gear. His breathing was steady, controlled, but every muscle in his body was coiled tight. He wasn’t a SEAL, but he’d worked alongside enough of them in his time as an Army Ranger to know the rhythm, the unspoken language between operators. And right now, he was running with one of the best teams out there.

The trees of the surrounding jungle were cast in an eerie, ghostly green light by the night vision goggles. The SEAL team around him moved like shadows, efficient and silent, each one a professional in his own right. They’d made room for him—because he’d brought the intel, and because he had skin in the game.

Colombia was a far cry from the clean lines of his civilian life. No overpriced coffee. No need to be stuck at a desk for hours on end. Just the damp, the heat, and the knowledge that the man they were tracking was a monster.

And thatshehad once been in his grasp.

That thought alone kept his finger ready on the trigger, his senses honed sharp. The SEAL team knew all about Cammie, having rescued her. He had already expressed his gratitude, a show of thanks they had readily dismissed. They wanted nothing more but to carry on with the hunt. They all knew the real reason they were here.

Cammie.

The woman who’d come back from hell with shadows in her eyes—and who’d trusted him enough to tell him what happened. She’d been taken by the man they were hunting now. Imprisoned. Hurt.

And somehow, she’d survived.

He owed her this.

“Target compound in visual,” came the whisper through his comm. It was Mustang, the team leader—calm, clipped, no wasted words.

Jeeves adjusted his position, peering through the night vision scope. The compound was tucked into the trees like it belonged there—shackled together with tin roofs, chain-link fencing, and the bones of stolen things. Men with rifles patrolled lazily, too confident, too comfortable.

They have no idea what’s coming.

“On my mark,” Mustang said.

Jeeves flexed his fingers around the grip of his rifle. He could feel it building—the tension before a strike, the moment before the break. The others, Midas, Aleck, Pid, Jag and Slate, were spread out around the compound. Ready to begin. Ready to take down the shadow.

But in the back of his mind, he wasn’t thinking about the target. He was thinking abouther—his tree sprite. How her voice had trembled when she’d told him about her kidnapping. How she’d looked at him, as if she was still half-waiting for someone to walk back through her past and drag her there again.

Not on his watch.

Mustang’s voice crackled through the coms again, low and final. “Go.”

Jeeves moved like the shadow they were hunting, his boots silent on the forest floor. The night erupted in controlled bursts of violence—muffled shots, flashbangs, the chaotic ballet of an op going exactly to plan.

But Jeeves wasn’t there for the takedown.

He was there to end a nightmare.

And make sure no part of it ever touched her again.

They breached the perimeter in under a minute. Silent takedowns. Muffled grunts. The thump of boots on dirt. The SEALs were phantoms—methodical and lethal. Jeeves moved with them, a shadow among shadows, rifle steady, vision laser-focused.

Inside, the compound was a maze of concrete and corrugated metal. Faint light flickered from overhead bulbs. Jeeves followed the trail, mind whispering her name like a prayer.

Please let this end it. Please let this be the last chapter of her nightmare.

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