Page 101 of Rescuing Rebel

Hank grinds the heel of his boot into the guard’s mutilated leg while I question the motherfucker, demanding answers.

Rage courses through me at how easily he surrenders the information. “Should’ve let the girls go when you had the chance.” I slam my rifle stock into his face, knocking him out cold.

Adrenaline still surges in my blood, we do a final sweep to confirm all targets are neutralized. My earpiece crackles as we head upstairs.

“Status, Charlie team?” CJ demands impatiently.

“Five targets secured, en route with Walt to rally point,” I report, relief flooding through me. “We’ve got fifteen more to locate.”

“Hurry it up. Alpha and Bravo are taking a beating out there.” CJ’s comment makes sense, considering the resistance we’ve encountered inside Haven has been relatively light so far.

We swiftly descend into the windowless sub-levels, our senses hyper-alert. Jeb feeds navigation directions through my HUD as we methodically clear each room.

Fighting intensifies the lower we go, contrary to expectations. The remaining guards are hardened, disciplined, cornered rats willing to fight to the death to protect their secrets. They establish kill zones at choke points and inside rooms, pinning us down with coordinated interlocking fields of fire.

Hank and I quickly burn through ammo, taking cover as we try to break their ranks. We score hits, taking down a few defenders, but more appear from hidden alcoves, driving us back and flanking our sides.

I slam a new magazine into my smoking rifle and peer around the corner, only to jerk back as blistering fire peppers my position. My HUD shows our ammo reserves dipping critically low. Hank meets my eyes and shakes his head—he’s nearly out, too.

These fanatical bastards mean to entomb us down here. We must break their ranks soon, or we’ll never reach the hostages.

I signal Hank with a feral grin. He nods back in agreement. Time to take the fight to them and save precious ammo.

We stop firing and switch to knives. In the lull, they think we’re falling back. When they rush us, we carve into them like the angels of death we are.

Arterial blood sprays hot across my neck as I slash throats and drive my blade into chests, puncturing lungs. They fall, gurgling and thrashing at my feet. Hank moves methodically, plunging his knife through ears, eyes, and hearts—whatever kills quickest and quietest.

We leave none alive, a trail of mangled corpses marking our descent into the bowels of Haven. The coppery tang of blood mixes with acrid smoke, filling my nostrils. Rivulets of sweat cut through the grime on my face. My shoulder aches from recoil, and my muscles burn with fatigue, but we push on.

More resistance awaits. We take them apart piece by piece until finally, muffled cries draw us to a large metal door labeled “Processing.”

Hank and I stack up and breach the door on my signal. Inside, seven Angels huddle as three guards hold guns to their heads.

“Drop your weapons,” the leader yells. The girls whimper, eyes scrunched closed, preparing to die.

My knife flies through the air and takes the leader mid-sentence, opening his throat in a wet gush. Hank’s blades drop the other two before they can pull their triggers.

It’s over in seconds.

Makes me appreciate all those hours working on my knife skills.

I rush to free the hostages. Tear-streaked faces look up at me with awe, relief, and hope as if they can’t believe we’re real. They’re no longer Angels.

We are.

Blood-soaked angels, delivering them from evil, but guardian angels nonetheless.

But this shit isn’t over. Not yet.

“There are others.” One of the girls whispers. It’s Iris, the girl I met in the hall. “Through there.” She points to a heavily locked door.

I make the call. Hank and I can’t afford to split our forces. “Stay close,” I urge them.

We breach the next room and find nothing.

“Iris, where else would they have taken them?”

“There’s a holding room down two levels. It’s secure.” She shivers violently. I can’t tell if it’s from fear or trauma from that holding room. From the way her voice shakes, I’m guessing the latter.

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