Chapter 6 - The Captain’s Debt
"SECURE THE PERIMETER!" Captain Vance ordered, his voice booming through the concrete sub-basement. "Check the bodies! Get a medical assessment on the room!"
Within four seconds, the SEALs had secured every exit, disarmed the remaining mercenaries, and established an impenetrable perimeter around the hallway.
Captain Vance dropped his heavy rifle to his sling, sprinting past the scorched concrete walls directly into the observation room.
"Maya!" he gasped.
He dropped to his knees beside the bed, grabbing his daughter’s pale, limp hand, pressing his forehead against her knuckles. Tears welled in the eyes of the hardened special operator who had spent twenty-five years fighting in the darkest corners of the earth.
Priya stepped forward softly. "She’s stable, Captain. Her vitals are holding steady. The intracranial pressure has leveled out."
Vance let out a long, ragged sob, kissing his daughter's forehead. He stayed like that for a full minute, anchoring himself to the steady, rhythmic beep of her heart monitor.
Slowly, Captain Vance stood up. He turned around, looking across the small room.
Havoc walked up to him, letting out a low whimper, pressing his wet nose into Vance's palm. Vance knelt down, rubbing the dog's scarred ears with deep, profound gratitude. "Good boy, Havoc. You kept her safe. Good boy."
Then, Vance raised his eyes.
He looked at Clare Mercer, who stood by the door, covered in soot, blood on her scrubs, holding a captured tactical radio.
Vance’s eyes widened in absolute shock.
"Mercer?" Vance whispered, his voice cracking. "Clare Mercer?"
Clare brought her heels together, snapping a sharp, flawless military salute. "Captain Vance, sir."
Vance walked up to her, taking her hand in both of his, shaking it with intense, overwhelming emotion. "My God... they told us you retired to the Midwest. They told us you didn't want to be found."
"I didn't, sir," Clare said softly. "I just wanted to be a nurse."
Vance looked around at the scorched hallway, the broken mercenary gear, and the three disarmed men being flex-cuffed by his operators. He looked at Dr. Holt, who was sitting on a crate holding a bloody bandage to his own arm, looking completely overwhelmed.
"You saved my daughter's life, Clare," Vance said, his voice thick with unshakeable emotion. "First in the trauma bay... and then against an armed hit team. I owe you a debt I can never repay."
"You don't owe me anything, Captain," Clare said quietly, looking back at Maya. "She’s one of ours. We don't leave family behind. Ever."
Vance pulled a secure satellite phone from his tactical vest, tapping a code. He raised it to his ear.
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"This is Vance," he barked into the phone. "Operation Clean Sweep is green. We have secured Maya. The hit team at St. Augustine is fully neutralized. Execute the strike package on the Syndicate's safehouse in Frankfurt immediately. Erase them."
He hung up the phone, looking back at Clare with a cold, satisfied nod. "The threat to my daughter ends tonight. Permanently."
