Page 70 of Code Name: Grit

I met his gaze steadily. “Physical resemblance is hardly evidence of a connection.”

“We’ll see. We’re moving you soon. This location isn’t secure.”

As the door closed behind him, I exhaled slowly. I had limited time before they transported me again. Grit would be looking for me by now, but would he find me in time? And if he did, what would Giovanni do when cornered?

A few minutes later, I could hear an argument escalating between Giovanni and his lieutenants.

“You’re fucking unstable, man,” one insisted. “This vendetta against Cassio has gone too far.”

“You forget your place.” Giovanni’s voice grew dangerously quiet. “I make the decisions here.”

“And when Rafael finds out?—”

“By then, we’ll have what we need,” Giovanni cut him off. “Prepare her for transport. We leave in thirty minutes.”

Heavy footsteps approached my door. I centered myself, ready for whatever came next. Survival now meant playing along until my rescuers arrived or an opportunity presented itself. Either way, I intended to remember every detail, every face, every word—and use it all against them when the time came.

The door swung open, and three men entered, one carrying restraints and a hood.

“Time to go,” the first one said.

As they moved toward me, I calculated my odds. Fighting now would be futile. Instead, I memorized their faces, their movements, and the way they positioned themselves.

Information was power, and right now, it was all I had.

19

GRIT

Our two-mile approach of the hunting lodge had been silent, each of us moving through the dense forest. Morning light filtered through the trees, and the air felt heavy with moisture. Tank and Atticus kept pace beside me while Admiral coordinated from our rear position. Through our earpieces, we could hear Kodiak’s team establishing positions to the west, while Ranger and Diesel, from Shadow Ops, moved their unit to secure the potential escape routes.

“Confirmed count on hostiles,” said Atticus through the comms. “Four guards on the perimeter. Six heat signatures inside.”

“Copy,” I whispered, signaling the team to hold as we reached the edge of the clearing.

The hunting lodge stood in stark relief against the tall trees, its weathered wooden exterior revealing its age. The four guards patrolled with visible weapons. Two near the entrance, one by a side door, and another circling to the rear.

“Teams ready for your command,” Admiral said, moving up beside me.

I studied the building once more, mentally mapping the entry points against the schematics Dragon had pulled from the county records. “We breach when I give the signal. We take the east side. Kodiak’s team covers the west. Shadow Ops secures the perimeter and blocks the escape routes.”

“Wait,” Tank whispered, gesturing toward the north access road. A black SUV approached the lodge at high speed, throwing gravel.

“Incoming vehicle,” I reported. “All positions hold.”

The SUV stopped sharply, tires spitting more rocks. Four men in dark suits emerged first, weapons drawn, establishing a perimeter before the back door opened. Cassio Belcastro stepped out, his expression hard, eyes scanning the area.

“Belcastro,” Admiral breathed beside me. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Before we could process this development, a second vehicle pulled up—a government sedan. When Ethan Keller stepped out, things became vastly more complicated.

“This changes our approach,” I said.

Before I could issue a command, a third vehicle appeared on the access road—a black Mercedes with tinted windows. The man who emerged, flanked by bodyguards, could only be Rafael Patriarca. His presence made the situation even more incomprehensible.

“Rafael Patriarca just arrived,” I reported. “Now, we’re dealing with multiple high-value targets we didn’t anticipate.”

A tense energy rippled through our teams. This was a confluence of power players whose motives remained unclear. I felt Admiral shift beside me, his hand moving to his sidearm as the gathering outside the lodge grew more volatile.

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