On My Count
Alpha-1 - Clay
Three minutes behind the stack.
Not late. Not early. Exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Time presses in tight and narrow. I don’t check my watch. I don’t need to. Time has weight now—pulls at the base of my neck, settles behind my eyes. The air inside the compound smells like dust and cold oil, concrete that’s been heated and cooled too many times.
I move toe-first, rolling my weight slow.
Spacing holds.
Jaceshifts his shoulder at the doorway ahead of me, clearing the angle without waiting. Good. Lopez has exterior coverage locked down. I don’t see him, but the shadows behave the way they should.
“Alpha-1 to stack,” I murmur. “Hold.”
The word lands and the hallway goes still. Not tense. Not frozen. Just controlled.
I count in my head first. Habit.
Then I bring the mic closer.
“Three.”
A faint scuff ahead. Fabric. Someone adjusting too late.
“Two.”
I tilt my head, listening past my breathing.
“One.”
They move.
The door opens inward without a sound. Recently oiled hinge. Someone maintains this place. I note it and keep moving. The room beyond is dim, a bare bulb swinging. Mattress on the floor. Crates stacked against the wall.
Jackson slides past me, eyes on hands, posture, breath. Intent before weapons.
Clear.
No one says it.
“Alpha-1,” comes quietly in my ear. “Status.”
“Alpha-1,” I reply. “Continuing clearance. No resistance so far.”
“Copy. Overwatch reports clean perimeter.”
I tap my mic once.
We move deeper.
Midway through the compound now. Two structures, shared courtyard. Secondary already being handled. Pike’s side. I trust him without thinking.
Another door. Locked.
Reinforced frame. Newer wood around the lock. Someone cared about this one.
Two fingers up.
Colton steps in, weight set, eyes on the hinge.
“On you,” he murmurs.
I bring the mic up again.
“Three.”
They lean in.
“Two.”
Everything tightens.
“One.”
The kick lands. The door folds with a dull crack. Controlled. We’re through it before the sound finishes.
Movement.
A man lunges from behind a shelf, fast and desperate. No weapon visible.
Doesn’t matter.
I close the distance and we collide hard. He goes for my throat. I trap his wrist and twist. Tendons give. He grunts. I drive my forehead into his face and shove him back.
Colton is already there.
The man swings wild. Colton ducks and drives an elbow into his sternum. Precise. The man folds, gasping.
“Alpha-1, contact,” Colton reports.
“Handled,” I say.
Another figure bolts for the far door.
“Runner,” Jace snaps.
Jace takes him low, drives him into the wall. The man tries to yell. Jace clamps a hand over his mouth and slams his head once. Clean. The man goes limp.
“Alpha-3 green.”
“Copy.”
Jackson checks both men quickly. Bruised. Breathing. Minimal injuries.
“Mission Command,” I murmur. “Two detainees. Minimal noise.”
“Copy, Alpha-1. No movement outside. Continue.”
I sweep the room. Shelves stripped. Hooks empty. Sacks heavy but wrong.
A flicker crosses the courtyard window.
“Exterior secure,” Lopez confirms a beat later.
“Drone steady,” Barrett adds. “No vehicles. No clustering heat.”
“Copy.”
“Secondary clear,” Pike’s voice comes in calm and even.
I don’t answer. He knows.
We move into the courtyard.
“Alpha, hold.”
The pause stretches. Deliberate. The night presses in around the walls.
“Set positions.”
They fan out automatically.
Final door.
Metal. Reinforced.
I run my knuckles along it. No vibration. No heat.
“Stack up.”
They form instantly.
“Charge set,” Colton murmurs.
“On my count,” I say.
Mic up.
“Alpha, breach in three.”
I say it clearly.
“Three.”
Everything tightens.
“Two.”
Silence holds.
“One.”
The charge pops. Sharp. Contained. The door buckles inward.
We move.
The room beyond is empty.
Not abandoned. Cleared.
Boot prints overlap on the floor, fast and careless. Whatever was here left in a hurry.
“Clear,” Pike says.
I nod once.
“Mission Command,” I say. “Objective clear. Beginning exfil.”
“Copy, Alpha-1. Exfil approved.”
“Wilco.”
I turn back to the team.
“Alpha. Exfil.”
They pivot as one, already moving.
Five minutes.
I plan the next five minutes while my boots carry me through the first.
