Drake clenched his jaw, swallowing his groan of pain.
Using the momentum of the strike, he rapidly fell back into the center of his squad's defensive ring.
He reached into his tactical vest, pulled out a sleek black metal lockbox, and shoved it hard into the chest of the youngest operative behind him. His voice was absolute.
"Wolf, take it and run."
"We'll cover you. Break the line, whatever it takes!"
The young operative, code-named Wolf, jolted. He gripped the metal box until his knuckles turned white, his eyes instantly glossing over with fierce emotion. "Captain! I'm not leaving you!"
"You're the fastest. Break through now." Drake pinned him with a hardened glare. "This intel gets out intact. Do you hear me? That's an order!"
Wolf's fingers dug into the box, the veins in his neck straining. "You're a better fighter than I am. You have a higher chance of making it out. We should be covering you!"
"Shut your mouth, that's an order!" Drake roared over the sounds of the brawl. "Fall in line, and do not make me say it again."
"This intel is a matter of national security. It goes home tonight, unbroken."
"Even if you have to die today, you make sure this gets out!"
Tears stung the corners of Wolf's eyes.
He looked at his blood-soaked captain and his battered brothers-in-arms. His chest heaved, his lips trembling before he gave a stiff, jerky nod. His voice cracked. "Yes, sir. I swear it. If I die, the box survives."
The operative beside him shoved him forcefully toward the rear. "Stop crying like a baby. We're getting you out of here, so you better stay alive!"
"Damn straight," another man spat a mouthful of blood onto the concrete, flashing a reckless grin. "Stop acting like we're writing our wills. Since when does Dragon-Thorn ever lose?"
In the shadows, Serena's gaze shifted.
The Dragon-Thorn Squad.
VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Messing With Her? Are You Crazy!