PART 4: Assembling the Tactical Fleet
PART 4: Assembling the Tactical Fleet
Billionaire resources launch midnight rescue missions.
Within fifteen minutes, the majestic ballroom had been completely emptied of its wealthy guests, who were hurriedly escorted out through the side exits by estate staff while private security details secured the perimeter gates.
The multi-million-dollar charity gala was over.
In its place, the Sterling Estate had transformed into a military staging ground.
Upstairs in the private executive suite, a team of emergency medics tended to little Leo, cleaning the cuts on his arms, treating his bruises, and feeding him warm broth while he curled up under a heavy wool blanket.
Harrison stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his private office, overlooking the courtyard below where three black armored SUVs and a heavy-duty transport van idled in the pouring rain, their headlights cutting brilliant beams through the dark night.
His phone buzzed against his palm.
He answered instantly.
“Boss, we’ve triangulated the coordinates Leo gave us,” Vance’s voice crackled through the encrypted comms channel. “The old Miller Creek logging camp. It’s federal crown land, heavily wooded, and completely off-grid. Local law enforcement doesn't patrol out there.”
“Are there hostiles on site?” Harrison asked, his voice cold and flat.
“At least four individuals identified via thermal drone sweep,” Vance confirmed. “Armed. They’ve locked down the main cabin. Looks like a localized extortion or debt-collection racket operating under the radar.”
Harrison’s jaw clenched so tightly his back teeth ached.
Ten years ago, he had been helpless while an avalanche tore the mountain apart, forced to watch as the man who saved his life disappeared into the white chaos.
He was not going to be helpless tonight.
“Move the team out in five minutes,” Harrison ordered. “I’m riding in the lead vehicle.”
“Sir, with all due respect, that’s an active extraction zone—!”
“That is the man who pulled me out of a freezing crevice when everyone else left me to die, Vance,” Harrison interrupted, his tone leaving zero room for argument. “If he’s alive in that camp, I’m bringing him home myself.”
He hung up the phone, turned around, and walked back into the medical suite.
Leo was sitting up in the bed, clutching a fresh cup of tea, his wide, tear-stained eyes looking up at Harrison with a mixture of awe and terror.
“Are you going to save my daddy?” the boy asked softly.
May you like
Harrison walked over, resting a large, reassuring hand on the boy’s small shoulder, a fierce, determined smile touching his lips.
“I owe him my life, Leo,” Harrison promised quietly. “Nobody is going to touch him ever again.”
