Chapter 10 - THE GUARDIAN AT THE THRESHOLD
The third shooter flinched as drywall dust rained down over his tactical helmet.
That half-second hesitation was the only opening Jenna Rock needed.
She closed the distance between them in two blinding strides, driving her left boot into the inside of his knee joint.
The joint buckled backward with an audible pop.
The operator dropped to one knee, groaning in agony as his weapon was ripped from his grip by Jenna’s scarred hands.
She cleared the chamber with a single violent flick of her wrist, sending the live round spinning into the darkness.
On the floor behind her, the lead contractor was struggling desperately against Koda’s iron jaws.
Koda had pinned the man’s tactical vest to the linoleum, his teeth locked into the heavy Kevlar shoulder strap, growling with primal fury.
“Koda, halt!” Jenna snapped.
The dog released the pressure instantly, standing squarely over the fallen man’s throat, his chest heaving with hot breath.
The contractor lay completely motionless, staring up into the dog’s dripping teeth, terrified that a single twitch would end his life.
“Move an inch, and he takes your jugular,” Jenna whispered, her voice devoid of human warmth.
Captain Miller emerged from the doorway of Bay 1, his uniform covered in white plaster dust, the Glock steady in his two-handed grip.
Bethany Cole followed closely behind, carrying Daniel’s IV bag high above her head with one hand while supporting his shoulder with the other.
Daniel limped forward on one good leg, his jaw clenched against the blinding waves of postoperative pain.
He leaned heavily against the metal doorframe, his green eyes surveying the three subdued assassins on the floor.
“Blackwood Global contractors,” Daniel rasped, identifying the custom serial plates on their suppressed carbines.
“The Admiral’s personal janitors.”
Jenna stripped the radio earpiece from the lead contractor’s helmet and placed it into her own ear.
A harsh, panicked voice was squawking through the encrypted channel over the background drone of a helicopter engine.
“Team Lead, report status on Ward 3!” the voice barked.
“The regional JAG team has crossed the Coronado bridge! You have four minutes to sterilize the room and withdraw to the roof!”
Jenna pressed the push-to-talk button on the lapel mic.
Her voice was steady, calm, and as cold as deep ocean water.
“Your team is down, Admiral Halverson.”
The radio went completely dead on the other end for five agonizing seconds.
Then, a heavy, aged breath broke the static.
“Senior Chief Vance,” the voice of Vice Admiral Arthur Halverson replied, his tone dripping with poisonous hatred.
“I should have ensured the drone pilot dropped two more ordnance loads on your safehouse three years ago.”
“You should have come down to the mud yourself, Admiral,” Jenna answered, her eyes locked on Daniel’s pale face.
“Instead of sending cowards and boys to do your dirty work.”
“You have nothing that will stand up in a federal court, Senior Chief,” the Admiral sneered through the radio.
“My son controls the medical narrative in that hospital.”
“Special Agent Hayes controls the criminal narrative.”
“And by sunrise, your bodies will be buried in an unmarked landfill outside Tijuana.”
Jenna reached down and pulled the encrypted field terminal from the second contractor’s assault pack.
She tapped the screen, connecting the unit to the air-gapped laptop Bethany had set up on the linen cart.
“Your son just confessed under digital recording, Admiral,” Jenna said quietly.
“And Captain Miller has already transmitted the complete decrypted archive to the Chief of Naval Operations via the emergency medical satellite uplink.”
In the back of the bay, Dr. Grant Halverson began to sob loudly, his forehead pressed against the blood-stained tile.
“Father... they have everything,” Grant wailed toward the open radio mic.
“They have the shipping manifests... they have my signatures... they know about the offshore accounts!”
The radio went dead with a sharp, angry click as the Admiral terminated the connection from his helicopter.
Captain Miller looked at Jenna, a profound sense of awe and sorrow washing over his weathered face.
“Senior Chief Vance,” Miller said, standing at formal attention despite the chaos and broken glass.
“I served with your father in the Persian Gulf thirty years ago.”
“He was the finest master chief this Navy ever produced.”
“And today, you honored his name more than any flag officer ever could.”
Jenna looked down at her blood-stained nurse scrubs, then over at Daniel, whose hand reached out to grasp hers once again.
Koda stepped between them, resting his scarred head gently against their joined hands.
“It’s not over yet, Captain,” Jenna said softly.
“The Admiral is landing on the roof in two minutes.”
“He’s coming down here himself to destroy the evidence before the federal marshals arrive.”
May you like
Daniel tightened his grip on Jenna’s fingers, a fierce, defiant grin breaking across his dust-covered face.
“Then let’s welcome the Admiral home,” Daniel whispered.
