Hoyt and Jared lifted the rappelling guns to their shoulders and fired. A loud crack whipped through the night air and purple smoke drifted upward.

“Go.”

Hunter and Ranger grabbed the ropes and pulled. “Secure.”

Mack ascended, climbing barehanded, the rope burning his palms, but he didn’t feel it. He still couldn’t feel anything other than the burning need to exact revenge.

Jack Mankel’s death was so close, he could practically see the blood spilling out of his body, feel the warm stickiness on his fingers. Mack wasn’t leaving here today until that bastard was a corpse.

As Mack crested the wall, thick smoke wafted into his nostrils. He breathed in deep, savoring the smell of their concealment. “Clear.”

Mack jumped to the ground seven feet below and waited on his men to follow. Once he saw the first couple pop over the edge of the wall, Mack started moving forward, clearing a path.

He caught a slight movement to the left and turned to look around. Thud. The sound of a body hitting the ground, followed by a grunt. And then silence.

Mack kept moving, alert for any hint of a noise. It wouldn’t be just one guard patrolling the yard.

To say Jack Mankel was a paranoid bastard would be the understatement of the century. He had guards for his guards. And it was only a matter of seconds before they swarmed out of the compound.

“Mine,” Hunter said, and shot off a round. Another body hit the ground.

The team moved through thick smoke, completely relying on their hearing to guide them.

Mack sensed the presence of his men flanking him, spreading out to cover more ground as they pushed forward like an unstoppable force.

The large front door came into view: thick wood with black metal hinges. “Merc, it’s yours.”

The towering form of Merc stepped in front of him and kicked in the door, which splintered open with a loud bang. Gunfire erupted. Mack dove to the left, behind the cover of the wall.

The smoke had started to clear, but there was still enough of it to lower visibility. Mack was used to such conditions; the guards inside the compound would not be. He had to use every advantage available to them. “Moving.”

Staying low, he fired off two rounds into the doorway. The first one hit a guy dead center in the chest. The second one hit a guard on the right shoulder, sending him sprawling backward, but it didn’t knock him to the ground.

“Got it,” Merc said. He sprinted forward, pulling his knife free as he ran. The injured guard was dead within seconds. Merc wiped the blood off his blade before he sheathed the knife once more. “Clear.”

They breached the doorway, weapons braced and heads down, ready for anything. The entryway was small; the walls made of concrete cinder blocks, as ugly as a pig’s ass. Knowing that this place robbed Mankel of his preference for over-the-top luxuries gave Mack a small surge of satisfaction. The bastard had always pampered himself, but this place—this place was straight-up, basic training austere.

“Bet Mankel loves it here,” Mack grunted out.

Ranger heaved a laugh, knocked his rifle to his shoulder, and sidestepped into an open doorway on the left. “We’ve got them on the run.” He reemerged from the room he’d just cleared moments later, clutching a medieval battle ax. “Might not be Mankel’s taste, but I’m all kinds of digging this joint.”

“Shit, I’ve always wanted one of those,” Riser muttered.

“Let’s go.” There was a narrow stairway built against the right wall, and a path beside it just wide enough for them to file down it two at a time.

The air filled with the sound of footsteps pounding the halls overhead, rushing up from the back of the house. “Here they come.”

Mack barely had time to prepare before another round of gunfire broke out. The lights went out, and the hall went completely dark except for the sunlight filtering in from the open doorway behind them.

Mack fired off a round. He dove left, and then came up firing.

Bullets whizzed past his ears, clanged into the walls, and ricocheted off the concrete. The smell of gunfire burned his nostrils. Talk came slow and steady in his ears. Damn, he loved this.

He fired off another round and then called out the order to halt. Straight-up silence permeated the space.

“Merc.”

There was a click, and the blue glow from an LED flashlight filled the room. About nine bodies were splayed around him, arms and legs spread, blood seeping onto the floor. “Grab their weapons. That was only round one.” It was easy work for his team.

They armed themselves with more guns and a couple of extra grenades, and Mack snatched a radio from one of the men’s belts. It wouldn’t hurt in the least to be on the inside loop of Mankel’s communication.

They’d taken out all the men on the ground floor, which left only the men up the staircase before they took the basement. Mack smiled. “Time for a little hide-and-seek.”

Merc clicked off his light and the team silently ascended the staircase, avoiding a dead body on the left. There were two doors opposite each other, and that was it. The compound was small by Mankel’s standards. His movements just visible in the dim glow from the doorway, Mack signaled for his team to split. They were dividing to conquer.

The landing was wide enough for them to break off left and right.

Mack crept down the hall, watching Riser and Ethan’s backs, the dim light fading as they approached the door on the left. They looked back; Mack nodded. Riser kicked in the door and they moved in, weapons raised.

Mack was distantly aware of the sound of gunfire in the other room, but all his attention was focused on the cavernous, nearly empty bedroom before him. He was so close to Mankel he could taste the victory. Two years of just missing the bastard responsible for Shane’s capture and death ate at him, gnawing on his soul like a starved dog with a bone.

Now he was minutes from feeding his need for revenge.

Pop. Mack charged back, searing pain ripping through his left shoulder. He rolled. Motherfucker. On the ground, he could see his assailant’s feet beneath the bed.

Mack fired a round, savoring the sound of the bullets sinking into the other man’s foot. Screams filled the air as he hit the ground, and Mack took him out with a single bullet to the head. “Clear.”

Riser fired off another round, and the guy seeking cover behind the dresser on the right fell to the ground.

“Colonel, you’re hit.” Riser rushed across the room and pressed his hand against Mack’s wound.

Mack hissed as fresh blood seeped into his armpit. “It didn’t hurt until you jabbed a finger into it.”

“You’ll live.” Riser said through a grin.

Mack pulled away from Riser’s probing eyes and moved back out to the hallway. “I’m good. Let’s move.”

His men circled up, backs to one another, keeping an eye out for the enemy. The other half of the team joined them with a nod.

“The entrance to the basement is supposed to be on the south corner,” Mack said.

He and his men crossed the hallway, pounded down the staircase, and lined up next to a big-ass metal door with a ten-digit keypad for a lock. Lights flickered overhead and then went out, casting them in complete darkness. “He’s fucking with us.”

Ethan crouched in front of the keypad, working his magic. The guy was like a freaking computer whisperer. “You surprised, Colonel?”

Mack ratcheted his rifle, loading another round. “Not in the least. We’ve got him rattled. I hope he’s pissing his pants.”

A small beep sounded from above and the door clicked open, squeaky hinges and all. “After you.” Ethan grabbed his rifle he’d propped against the wall.

Icy anticipation replaced the blood in Mack’s veins. Mankel was down there. He could feel it in his bones. There was no trickle of light from an open door or a cracked window down here. Just straight-up sinister blackness. “I’ve got the lead,” Mack said. “Night vision goggles on.” He snapped his own goggles in place, and the stairway came into view through a grainy green image. A long, empty hallway stretched out at the base of the stairs, and then opened into a larger room that looked like it held tables and lab equipment.

Mack took the first step down into the hell that Jack Mankel had created.

The only sound was their breathing as they silently descended the steep set of stairs.

Caroline had to be here. The lab equipment all but confirmed it. If Mankel really was running some kind of next-level experiment, this place was certainly set up for it.

They stopped at the end of the staircase, his men lining up with their backs pressed to the wall. Mack craned his neck around the corner. The room was two times bigger than he’d originally thought, lined with large, glass-walled cells. Holy shit. These weren’t cages for monkeys and animal testing. These were the size of jail cells.

His fury ignited, exploding through his body like a hundred pounds of C-4 strapped to his chest. “Y’all seeing what I’m seeing?”

“We found Mankel’s little lab,” came Merc’s low reply.

Hollow tubes seeped from the walls like long tendrils of evil. Empty cots hung in each cell, absent sheets or pillows. Faded blood stains covered the floors in large cancerous splotches, evidence of some horrible atrocity committed and then erased.

“Jesus,” Mack breathed out, shocked horror permeating his words.

Long, metal tables stretched in uneven rows, scattered with destroyed computers and glass bottles. Torn paper stuck in patches to the top, cemented in place by splatters of dried blood. A rolling cart covered in hacksaws and bone grinders stood next to one cell, turned up on three wheels like someone had shoved it away in a mad rush.

In a daze, Mack stumbled to the middle cell, fixated on the dog tags hanging from a clear peg next to the entry. Fingers numb with shock, he lifted the metal chain and stared at the name typed in raised font on the flat disks. Subject G.

“Whose, is it?” Merc asked in a harsh voice from behind Mack.

Merc crushed the tags in his fist and yanked them from the peg. “I don’t know.” But he intended to find out. “Spread out and look for signs of Caroline.”

“I’m going to peel Mankel’s nails off his fingers,” Merc said.

Hunter approached, staring past them into the empty cell. “He has to die. Tonight.”

“Not until he tells us where she is.” Mack shoved the tags into his pocket and turned his back on the cell, unable to stomach the idea of anyone held prisoner here, let alone an innocent woman.

From their vantage point, the room appeared empty, as did all the cells. There were eight of them. “Moving. Watch my six.”

Mack stepped into the room, crouched low with his gun raised, ready for another attack. Sweat popped on his brow, and the hairs down his legs stood on end as if he had stuck his toes in an electric outlet. Fuck. There was some next-level shit going on down here, and Mack got the uneasy sensation they were about to meet up with whatever Mankel’s experiment had created. “Keep your eyes peeled. I’m getting a bad feeling.”

But they couldn’t turn back, not now. Mankel was down here, and Mack would rather die than let that bastard go again.

Besides, what else did he have to live for? He existed to exact revenge on the man who had betrayed him. And once he finally achieved his goal, Mack could rest easy.

He sensed more than saw a movement to his right.

Mack swung around in time to see—but not intervene—as a soldier circled behind Riser, disarmed him, and then delivered a hard punch to his temple. Riser crumpled instantly, unconscious.

Mack hissed in a breath. “Attack.”

Like a lethal swarm of hornets, enemy combatants rose up from behind the tables, all of them in black, all of them moving without the assistance of night vision goggles, and all of them bigger than any man on his team.

“Hunter, two o’clock.”

Hunter grunted, throwing a right hook as he spun to meet his silent opponent.

“Jared, your left.” Jared Crowe brought a knife around with him, but his attacker jumped back as he sliced the air between them. Shit.

These men moved with a lethal fluidity and speed even faster than Reaper. They acted and reacted a split second before his men, as if they were anticipating the moves. The first trickle of unease ran down his spine.

“Colonel?” Merc called out, ripping a knife from his opponent’s hand. He slapped a meaty arm around the man’s neck, pulling him up tight against his chest.

Mack didn’t bother turning; he wouldn’t have time. Letting instinct guide him, he jabbed the butt of his rifle to his left, made contact with something that felt more like a solid wall than a man. He only had a nanosecond to savor the feeling before a fist slammed into his jaw. Mack stumbled right, his left ear blazing with pain and ringing louder than the Big Ben. Shit, he’d never been hit so hard—and he’d been hit plenty. Gathering his wits, he squared off. A rifle would be no good to him in this proximity. Mack dropped it and went for his pistol.

No one in the room spoke. There were only grunts and thuds and the sound of tables crashing to the ground.

“Come on, bastard. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Without hesitation, the man leaped forward, and before Mack could even squeeze off a round, he’d taken another heavy punch. What the hell? Another hit; Mack took it on the chin like a good soldier, trying to maintain his grip on the gun.

His attacker kept renewing his attack. Mack fell back, swinging up a leg and sweeping it around. The man jumped, easily missing the kick. The assassin was too fast. Too strong. Mack couldn’t take him in hand-to-hand combat and come out on top.

How the hell were these guys fighting in complete blackness without any night-vision goggles? “How can you see me?” Mack ground out, raising his weapon once more.

The assassin spun in the air and slammed into Mack’s wrist.

A cracking pain shot up Mack’s arm, but he held on to his gun, unwilling to give up his only chance for surviving this fight.

The assassin stared directly at Mack, no expression on his face whatsoever.

It was as if he was empty, not really a man but a machine. The exact same look that had been in Reaper’s eyes. “What are you?”

Before Mack processed movement, the assassin struck. A searing pain radiated through his side. His pistol clattered to the ground, and he slapped a hand to his stomach, fresh hot blood immediately drenching his fingers. It was as if the knife had appeared out of nowhere. The assassin now hung back, holding the blade like it was an extension of his hand.

Weakness seeped up his feet to his knees and thighs, bringing with it a cold realization: Mack wasn’t going to win this one. He wasn’t going to get to kill Mankel. He wasn’t going to win.

Marley . . . Mack’s legs gave out and he went to his knees. He needed to see her. He needed to touch her. He needed to tell her he loved her and that he forgave her.

The assassin stepped up, raising his arm to deliver the death blow. But there was no smile of victory on his face, no expression at all. Mack squared his shoulders, ready to go out like the soldier he was.

He was dimly aware of his men fighting around him. Deep grunts and the sound of bodies slamming into metal filled the room. There was a crash and then a high pitched alarm went off.

Suddenly the assassin seized, dropped the knife, and fell to the floor convulsing.

What the fuck?

He didn’t have time to process before his survival instincts kicked into high drive. He grabbed the assassin’s knife, slammed it into the man’s temple and knocked him out. His body went limp, except for a few twitches.

Staggering to his feet, Mack saw the rest of his men in much the same condition as he had been—wounded and fighting a losing battle. Everyone except Merc, who had blood dripping from his face and hands but was still holding his own. He was all about letting each man take care of himself, but the assassins they fought weren’t human; they didn’t move like regular men. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to stand there and watch his team get taken out by Mankel’s scientific experiments.

Mack snuck up behind the assassin attacking Hunter and brought the hilt of the knife down hard on the back of the man’s neck. He crumpled. Hunter gave him a nod, his face bloody, before turning to assist his brother. Mack went to help Jared, but Mankel’s guy saw him coming and kicked out a leg, catching Mack straight in his wounded side. Blinding, white-hot agony stole his breath. He couldn’t even gasp. He doubled over and clutched his side. Jared moved in with an upper cut, and the assassin flew backward and hit the ground, down but not out.

Trying not to black out, Mack grabbed the nearest table and fought off a wave of dizziness threatening to take him under. Mankel – he had to stay conscious.

There were more grunts, more thuds. Merc took a punishing blow from his opponent.

The screeching alarm from earlier sounded again. The assassin shuddered as if in pain. His entire expression shifted from cold killer to savage animal. He threw back his head and roared and shoved the computer off the desk nearest him.

Merc took an uneasy step back, holding his knife in front of him. The assassin launched with inhuman speed and power, going for Merc’s throat with his bare hands. Merc’s knife clattered to the floor. They went down hard, crashing into a chair and taking it out before they hit the ground. The assassin never let go of Merc’s neck.

Merc slammed his fist into his face, a move that would knock out any other man, but the assassin barely flinched. He squeezed tighter. Merc choked and got in another punch, this time to the side of the assassin’s head. He didn’t let up an inch. His whole deadly focus was on choking the life out of Merc.

Hunter dove in, gun raised and slammed the hilt of his pistol into the assassin’s temple. He jerked and then fell forward, unmoving.

“What the fuck was that?” Hunter growled as he pulled the man off Merc and helped his teammate to his feet.

Merc stumbled, grabbed the desk and held on, gasping for breath. “I don’t know, but he didn’t even feel my hits.”

What the hell was going on here? There wasn’t a single human being on this planet that wouldn’t fall under Merc’s massive fists. But right now, he didn’t have time to analyze the unconscious men. He had to find Mankel first.

Riser still lay unconscious on the ground. A hard cough wracked Mack, nearly taking him down. He shook it off, but the floor tilted and he was falling and . . .

Hunter suddenly had his arms under Mack, lifting him up. “We got it from here, Colonel. We need to back you out of here. You’re losing blood fast.”

“No,” Mack ripped out. “Mankel first.”

Hunter just shook his head. “Stubborn bastard.”

“Is Riser okay?”

There was a groan. Then Riser was sitting up, hands cupped over his temples. “Shit, that hurts.” He blinked and surveyed the room. “Looks like I missed out on a really good fight.”

Ethan chuckled and helped him to his feet. “We opened up a can of straight-up whoop ass. They never had a chance.”

“Yeah, and they went schizophrenic on our asses,” Hunter mumbled.

Mack took a step, grinding his teeth together to keep from hissing in pain. His shoulder burned, and his side felt like he had a hot poker lodged in it. Even his jaw throbbed. But he had a mission to complete—a mission to kill Mankel. Now that the tide had turned again, he might have his chance . . . “Find him. Find that bastard now.”

He didn’t know how much longer he had before blacking out, but he had made a promise to his team and himself. He’d see this through or die trying. Mack took a staggering step forward. Riser supported him with a shoulder under his arm on his non-injured side. “Colonel, you’re losing too much blood. We can finish this.”

“No. Me.”

“Colonel—”

“No. I’m the one who ordered the raid that got Shane killed. I was in charge. It’s my responsibility, Goddammit, and I’m not leaving here until Jack Mankel’s dead.” The words tore out of his mouth as if they’d been ripped from his soul.

His team gave him some uneasy stares, but Mack ignored them. They’d do what he said, or he’d find the strength to march out of there himself. Somehow.

“Well, boys, sounds like the colonel’s made up his mind. Let’s ride this rodeo to the end.” Hunter circled a finger in the air and took the lead. Riser fell in behind the rest, handed Mack his hand gun and took most of Mack’s weight as he limped from the room.

Blood soaked his shirt, the coppery smell of it filling his nostrils. The space down here was getting colder by the second. Mack palmed his sidearm, needing that grounding reminder. He had to fight it. He had to fight the sweet suck of oblivion.

The lights in the hallway flashed, buzzing on and off now from the emergency alarm they’d tripped. They turned left, kept moving, and then hooked a right, watching for an attack all the while.

Barely able to stand the glare from the lights, Mack let his lids hang low, shielding his vision as much as possible. His hands shook; his feet felt like someone had poured concrete in his boots.

Soon, he’d release his stranglehold on the present and float in the air. And yet . . . Marley flitted through his head again, grounding him. He wondered what she was thinking right now. Would she be clutching the handle next to the window in the helicopter’s cab, worried about him? Or was she just biding her time, waiting to get home and thankful to finally be rid of Mack and his team?

They reached the end of the hall, a rat’s maze that dead-ended in a set of double steel doors. Mack blinked until he regained focus. He squeezed his handgun, that small feat sapping his strength even more.

You have to keep going. So close.

He was past the point of ordering his men around; it took all his energy to remain standing. They busted in the door, Riser’s shoulder digging into his armpit as he held him up. Gunfire erupted; there was a scream. A couple of thuds—bodies hitting the ground. Alarm swept through Mack, giving him enough energy to bite out, “Don’t kill him. Let me.”

Shrugging off Riser’s arm, Mack walked himself to the door. There were two dead guards lying on the floor in front of a stark desk. A desk as black as the soul of the man who sat behind it.

Jack Mankel.

He no longer had the look of arrogance and pride, not with Hunter gripping his shoulder, forcing him to stay put in his seat. He looked tired; there were bruises underneath his eyes; his long, black hair was unkempt and dirty; and the right side of his face looked like he’d just eaten a punch.

“It’s been a long time,” Mack said. By sheer force of will, he moved deeper into the room.

“Too long,” Mankel said, using the soft tone of a man who knew he was about to meet his fate.

“Why?” Mack stopped a few feet from the front edge of Mankel’s desk, sweat and blood mixing as it dripped down his skin.

Mankel shrugged, as casual as if they were talking about the weather. “You want an excuse?”

“No, I want a reason. I want to know what would cause you to betray your team, your country. Everything.”

Mankel’s mouth tightened; his eyes hardened. He made as if to move, but Hunter slammed him back into place. “Do that again and I’ll put a bullet in your head myself.”

“You always were more stubborn than the rest.” Mankel yanked his lapels, straightening his wrinkled suit jacket. “Part of it was for the power; part of it was for the money.”

“Fuck that,” Mack said.

“So, the famous interrogator thinks he can read minds now?” Mankel paused.

“Just giving you a few more minutes to enjoy the feeling of being alive.”

“How generous. All right, I’ll play, but only if you agree to take me back to the States, give me a shot at a trial.”

Mack slowly lifted his gun, fighting to keep the trembling at bay as he leveled the weapon at Mankel. “How about you tell me, and I’ll make it quick instead of drawing it out like I planned.”

Mankel steepled his fingers together, a subconscious move of power. And Mack realized he wasn’t through.

“Or I could agree to give you the location of Caroline Cotter—who is not here, by the way—in exchange for your word that you will see me safely back to America.”

Fuck. “Jared, Hoyt—search the place.”

The Crowe brothers disappeared from the room and down the hall as Mack fought to keep his arm straight, the gun seeming to quadruple in weight.

They waited in silence, no one moving a muscle. A few minutes later, Jared and Hoyt jogged back into the room. “Empty,” Hoyt said.

Mack stared bullet holes into Mankel’s head.

Mankel just smiled, acting as if he were the one who had a gun on Mack and not the other way around. “How much is the girl worth to you? Is your revenge worth more than an innocent life?”

Rage ripped through Mack. He roared, leaping across the desk in an adrenaline-surged rush, and tackled Mankel to the floor. He wrapped his hands around the man’s throat and squeezed. Mankel’s satisfied smirk slipped away as he gasped for air and tried to pry Mack’s fingers from his throat. But Mack’s blood loss and injuries were nowhere near enough to bridle his unholy fury. He held his fingers locked in an immovable vice around the man’s vice. His vision tunneled; his whole being pulsed with the desire to end this man. Death. Death was the only solution for a man like this.

And then Marley’s face popped into Mack’s mind. He was acting like an animal, a thoughtless beast. What would she think if she saw him like this? Allowing Caroline to meet her fate simply so he could have the pleasure of killing this man.

Mack had killed men before—he was a soldier—but only when they were threatening his life or someone else’s. Mankel, murdering bastard that he was, had been sitting in that chair, unarmed.

Mack knew that if he crossed that line, he’d never be able to come back so he forced his fingers to loosen and backed off, leaving Mankel wheezing and grasping at his bruised neck. Grabbing the edge of the desk, Mack pulled himself to his feet. Disgust roiled within him and he spat on the floor next to Mankel. “Hunter, secure the prisoner. If he so much as twitches an eyebrow, put a bullet right between his eyes.”

“Roger.” The room faded, but Mack leaned back and tightened his focus as much as he could. Marley. Fight for Marley. He couldn’t give up on her, not yet.

Hunter jerked Mankel up off the floor and threw him face down on the other end of the desk, roughly yanking his arms behind his back. He wrapped 550 cord around them, tight enough to cut off a little bit of blood circulation.

“We need to secure Reaper’s team in the lab,” Mack managed to say. “Those men—they were normal once. We have to find out what’s been done to them.”

And find out if they had to be put down.

“We’ll handle it, boss,” Hunter said.

Mack’s ears roared as Riser helped him from the room. The long walk down the hall seemed to stretch on forever, and then they were climbing the stairs, heading out of the foyer and into the bright sunlight. The light was blinding, but Mack didn’t have the energy to lift a hand to shield his eyes. Riser popped a smoke and tossed it a few feet away—the red, billowing cloud was Aaron’s signal to pick them up.

Mankel was restrained and on his knees, Hunter’s gun pressed into the back of his head. The rest of the team shuffled out with the now-conscious assassins secure—heads held up straight, hands tied behind them.

The sound of the approaching chopper fought for Mack’s attention. He needed to see Marley. He needed to tell her that he regretted snapping at her. Capturing Mankel felt hollow, not even halfway filling up his cup when he’d thought it would be overflowing. And Mack thought he knew why. Mankel was his past. Marley was his future. If she’d still have him.

The west gates of the compound burst open and two small black SUVs charged through. Mack couldn’t muster the energy to go for his weapon, but his men leveled their guns at the newcomers. The vehicles skidded to a stop, and the front passenger-side door of the first one swung open. A pair of huge hands emerged first, raised overhead, and then Reaper exited one of the vehicles.

“Holy shit, man, where the hell have you been?” Merc asked.

“Getting him.” Reaper slowly lowered his arms.

The back door of the SUV opened and a dark-skinned man in an expensive-looking navy pantsuit stepped down. “I’m here for him.” The man had a thick accent.

“You’re too late. I’ve been arrested by the US government,” Mankel said.

“Who are you?” Mack said.

“I am President Ali,” the dark-skinned man answered. “This man is responsible for selling weapons to rebel leaders, weapons that were used to massacre an entire village of my people. I have come to see that he meets justice.”

Mack managed to hold onto his wits long enough to study Mankel. There was no longer any triumph in his gaze; as a matter of fact, he looked nervous.

“And what will you do with him if we give him to you?” Mack asked.

“I will return him to the remaining survivors of the village. Their leader wants justice. I want vengeance. Either way, I’ve come to ask you that you turn him over.” President Ali’s tone was congenial but severe.

“And if I say no?”

“Then I will have no choice but to have my Army detain you until we can safely remove him from your custody.” President Ali held up his hand and gestured to his men. Three of them broke off from the group and crossed to Mankel.

“No! You can’t do that. I have to go back to America, face my trial there,” Mankel said frantically.

Mack ignored him and stared hard at the president. “And what guarantee do I have that you will actually see it through? Jack Mankel has managed to escape from more than one government. That’s a big risk.”

“Now that his deadly protectors have been stripped from him, there will be no escaping for this man. There is no one in my country who would not kill him on sight.”

“Deal – but we need to interrogate him first. He has someone very precious to my team and we need her back.”

“You’ll never find her without me. I’m the only one who knows her location,” Mankel said with desperation edging his voice.

Ali glanced at Mankel, his lip curling. “Be quiet. You have no right to speak.”

Mankel’s pale visage turned savage and he spit at the president’s feet. “Filthy bastard. Your country is nothing but –”

The dark-skinned soldier nearest him jammed the butt of his rifle into Mankel’s temple before anyone could blink. Mankel crumpled unconscious to the ground. Hunter lifted his sidearm and took aim at the soldier. “We needed that intel.”

“Hunter, stop.” Mack’s vision wavered. “Holster your sidearm.”

“I am sorry my friend. Jaheem doesn’t like when others speak ill of me,” Ali said.

“We still need that intel,” Mack said.

President Ali made his way to Mack. “And you shall have it. My men will extract the required information on this hostage before turning him over to the villagers. You have my word.” He held out his hand.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Mack focused on lifting his good arm and shook Ali’s hand.

“Commander, we can’t leave without her.” Riser lowered his weapon, but kept it at the ready.

“You don’t have a choice. I honor my word, soldier. My men are very good at getting information from our prisoners. Ali nodded to his men, who grabbed Mankel by the shoulders and feet and hauled him to the waiting SUVs. “Mankel will talk.”

The soldiers loaded Mankel into one of the vehicles. The compound gates were still open, and he could see rows upon rows of soldiers and trucks lined up outside the perimeter, waiting on the president. It gave him a feeling of deep satisfaction to see them drive Mankel away to meet his fate.

“So long, my friend.” Ali nodded once and then got back in his car. His caravan pulled out and within minutes, his team was alone once more.

Reaper just stood there, not staring at Mack but at the team of men roped together.

“Let them go.” The huge man didn’t move, but his hands balled into big fists near his sides.

Darkness called out to Mack, urging him to slip into its void. He tried to shift his weight, using small movements that would keep him conscious without triggering the pain. Reaper deserved an answer, even if he wasn’t going to like it. Mack wouldn’t take the easy way out and make his men do the explaining. “They attacked us. And it wasn’t a normal attack. Something’s not right about these men, and I’m not letting them go until I find out what has been altered inside them.”

Jack Mankel had been granted access to all the top-level, secret government experiments in his tenure with the CIA. Mack Grey had never been allowed on the inside, but he’d heard plenty of rumors. He knew they were doing some crazy shit to achieve their super soldiers.

Caroline and Nightshade’s blood carried the answer. He didn’t know what it was yet, but he sure as hell was going to find out before he released any of those men back on the streets.

“You promised not to harm them. If you take them back to the government, they’ll lock them up in a lab and never let them see the light of day again. You know it as well as I do.”

A hard cough wracked Mack, and it was all he could do not to double over in pain. “It’s better than putting them down.”

Reaper stalked across the distance separating them, stopping a couple of feet away, his chest heaving, his black eyes blazing. His right shoulder twitched. “I won’t let you,” he growled out.

Merc joined the discussion, appearing at Reaper’s side, his normally black expression inscrutable. “Colonel, he’s right. If we turn them over to the government, they’ll be lab rats until they’re no longer useful.”

Mack’s vision wavered, blurred. “What else can we do?” It was all he could do to stay conscious. There was no longer any warmth in his limbs. The only heat came from the blood that had collected in his boots.

“We can set them up at my place,” Merc offered. “The senator’s old mansion has lots of space, plenty of room for living quarters. We can set up our own headquarters to watch these guys until we find out if they’re salvageable.”

Senator Cotter’s huge mansion, which he’d left to Merc’s wife, definitely had the space and the location. It also had NSA level security and protection.

“And how exactly are we supposed to do that? I’m not a scientist, and neither are you. We’re warriors, not thinkers.” Shit, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

“What if I can bring the scientists to you?” Reaper asked quietly.

The loud roar of the helicopter filled the courtyard, hard wind clipping straight down from its rotating propeller, as Aaron set the helo down. The strong blast of wind forced Mack to stop talking. He wanted to see Marley before he passed out.

“Colonel, I can bring you the scientists. Promise me you won’t turn my men over to the government. Just give us a chance.”

Mack looked to where he thought Reaper should be, but all he saw was a wavering, blurry form. “Okay.”

“Mack!” Marley’s beautiful face appeared in his line of sight, and then her arms were around him, and he got the briefest touch of peace before he passed out.