Chapter 7 - The Docks
The raid was chaotic and violent.
The moment we breached the perimeter of the shipping yard, Tariq’s mercenaries opened fire. Tracers lit up the night sky like deadly fireworks. I moved through the shipping containers with a lethal, terrifying focus, my rifle an extension of my own body.
"Bravo Team, flank left!" I barked into the radio, dropping two hostiles who rounded the corner.
We pushed them back, cornering Tariq’s inner circle near the edge of the pier. As the gunfire died down, I moved forward, my weapon raised.
Tariq was bleeding from his shoulder, pinned behind a stack of wooden crates. He looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized the woman stepping out of the shadows. He had visited the black site five years ago. He had watched them break me.
"You," he spat in broken English. "You are supposed to be dead."
"I tried," I replied coldly, keeping my sights centered on his chest. "But I realized I had unfinished business."
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Tariq lunged for a detonator on his belt. Before his thumb could press the button, I fired a single, precise shot. He dropped to the concrete, neutralized.
"Target secured," I called into the comms. The ghosts of Yemen were finally buried.
