Page 74 of Code Name: Grit

As we slid down the embankment, I glanced back toward the lodge. The scene was surreal—rival crime families in open combat, a corrupt federal agent moving with surprising immunity through the battlefield, and at the center of it all, a conflict that somehow involved me.

“Extraction team is three minutes out,” Ranger reported, checking his communication device. “We need to reach the secondary landing zone.”

Grit nodded, his expression focused despite the chaos we’d just escaped. “Northeast quadrant?”

“Affirmative. Half a mile through the ravine, then east to the clearing.”

We proceeded in that direction. While one man I didn’t recognize took point, Tank guarded our rear. Grit stayed close to me, his breathing controlled but heavy from exertion.

“Admiral, status?” said Tank.

I waited for Grit to relay the message. “He’s saying the situation at the lodge is deteriorating. Multiple hostiles still engaged. Giovanni is wounded but mobile. No fucking idea what Keller is doing.”

The ravine narrowed as we progressed, forcing us into a single file. The sun barely penetrated the dense forest canopy, casting everything in murky half light. Every sound seemed amplified in the tense silence.

“Movement, four o’clock,” Atticus reported quietly from ahead.

We froze, weapons raised. Through the trees, we saw a shadow—too deliberate to be wildlife, too cautious to be friendly.

“One hostile, advancing parallel to our position,” Admiral confirmed.

Grit’s hand found my arm, guiding me lower. “Stay down,” he whispered. “If anything happens, follow the ravine northeast. Don’t stop. Don’t look back.”

The intensity in his eyes terrified me, though we both knew I wouldn’t leave him behind.

Seconds stretched into minutes as we remained motionless, barely breathing. The shadow continued its parallel course, seemingly unaware of our presence.

Then a twig snapped—not from the direction of our stalker, but from behind us.

“Second contact,” Tank hissed. “We’re being flanked.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Giovanni’s men?”

“Could be anyone’s at this point,” Grit replied. “We need to move.”

We abandoned stealth for speed, pushing forward through the ravine as quickly as the terrain would allow. Behind us, voices called out—confirmation that our pursuers had spotted us.

The first shot splintered bark inches from my head. I ducked lower as Tank and Admiral returned fire, covering our retreat.

“How much farther?”

“Two hundred yards to the clearing,” Atticus responded between shots.

The gunfire intensified as our pursuers closed the distance. Up ahead, the ravine opened into flatter terrain—we’d lose our cover, but gain a straight path to the extraction point.

“Tank, take the lead with Lumi,” Grit ordered. “I’ll cover your six.”

We pushed forward, breaking out of the ravine into more open forest. Through the trees ahead, I could see sunlight—our extraction point.

Then another explosion rocked the forest behind us, the concussive force staggering us momentarily.

“The lodge is gone,” Admiral shouted. “Repeat, the hunting lodge has been destroyed. Multiple explosions detected.”

“Who?” Grit asked.

“Unknown. Everyone at the site is scattering.”

The distraction gave us another opening we needed. We pushed toward the clearing where our extraction awaited. The sound of helicopter rotors grew louder as we approached.

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