Page 52 of Silent Dust
Bear’s eyesnarrowed as the soft click echoed in his ear, signaling the comm alert. At nearly the same time, he spotted Flora quietly slipping into the kitchen—unaware of the danger closing in. Kujo’s calm, steady voice cut through the tension.
“The HVT has entered the building through the attached garage.”
Bear’s hand rose in swift, practiced signals. His gaze scanned the yard and locked with Warden’s. “Flora went inside. She’s in danger.”
Nova, Link, and Moose moved methodically through the crowd, rounding up civilians and children. They steered them toward the unattached garage and workshop at the back, where Kujo kept watch over the monitors. Nova’s sharp eyes flicked over the group as she whispered into her comm, “Where’s Amelia?”
Before anyone could answer, Kujo’s voice returned, cold and urgent.
“HVT has Amelia. Knife at Amelia’s chest. They’re in the kitchen.”
Bear’s jaw clenched tightly. Time slowed. The world shrank to the small, unfamiliar kitchen where Flora and Amelia’s liveshung by a thread. His breath caught, but he forced himself to stay calm, listening carefully.
The situation was out of his hands.
He had to trust their training, their precision. Deep down, he believed in them. They had anticipated Charlotte’s return, maintaining vigilance with comms, cameras, every available tool. Yet a gnawing frustration lingered—they hadn’t expected Flora and Amelia to fall so suddenly into Charlotte’s grasp.
How had she slipped in unnoticed?
Active-duty protocol prevented military direct action on U.S. soil, placing immediate responsibility on Hawk, Red, Zulu, and Ghost—retired SEALs with full authority. The rest, including Bear, remained backup, ready to intervene only if the situation escalated.
Commander Michaels approached the dimly lit command post where Kujo sat, eyes glued to the bank of monitors. The faint hum of electronics filled the room, punctuated only by clipped comm chatter. Michaels’ boots clicked softly as he stopped beside Kujo, resting a firm hand on his shoulder.
“What’s our status?”
Kujo didn’t look away.
“HVT has Amelia and holds Flora at knifepoint in the kitchen. Hawk, Red, Zulu, and Ghost are in position, ready to engage. ROE restrict direct military action, but with you here, adjustments can be made.”
“Understood,” Michaels said, voice steady and commanding. “I’m authorizing lethal force if necessary. Prioritize a non-lethal solution—we can’t risk the hostages.”
Bear exhaled slowly, eyes flicking between the monitors and the team moving into place. Every second was critical, every breath weighted.
Kujo nodded seriously and keyed the comm channel.
“Team, command authorizes engagement under strict conditions. Hostage safety remains priority. Proceed carefully.”
Michaels stepped back, giving space, but stayed close enough to monitor the feed and provide decisions if needed. His presence lent authority, though he trusted his team to handle the tactical execution.
Bear’s gaze sharpened as Hawk sent a subtle hand signal—a precise marker for the target’s location. On-screen, Charlotte paced nervously, knife aimed at Flora, Amelia held close like a fragile shield.
The hushed tones of comms wove through the room, threading razor-sharp focus through the thickening tension.
Then Hawk’s voice sliced through the quiet.
“Three... two…”
Bear’s stomach clenched. His eyes widened, muscles tensed. Those final seconds stretched, dense and endless.
The front door’s lock clicked softly, followed by the gentle creak of the door swinging open. Zulu slipped silently through the kitchen entry, low and controlled. Hawk appeared at the front door’s edge, posture low and ready. From the garage, Ghost and Red emerged seamlessly, moving in perfect unison.
Bear’s eyes darted between the feeds, heart pounding beneath his vest. Hope sparked—they were in position, advancing. But Charlotte was a wild card—unpredictable and dangerous.
Focus. Stay sharp.
The countdown ended with Hawk’s clear, commanding voice.
“Now.”
