My mother-in-law set my wedding dress on fire right in front of me, just before the ceremony, laughing and saying: ‘You will never be part of this family!’ She mocked my Bronze Star, calling it a cheap medal. I calmly said: ‘You have no idea what you just did,’ and she panicked when I...

The rain was coming down in sheets over the rolling hills of San Antonio when the chopper dropped Mac and me off two miles north of my family's ranch. We moved on foot through the thick brush, night-vision goggles secured, silent as ghosts.

The ranch house where I had grown up was dark, sitting isolated on a fifty-acre plot of land. My father, a retired Master Sergeant, had spent twenty years turning this place into a fortress before he passed away.

As we reached the perimeter fence, I spotted two black SUVs parked hidden beneath the tree canopy along the dirt driveway.

"Target confirmed," Mac whispered into his comms unit, peering through his thermal scope. "Four heat signatures inside the main house. They breached the front door five minutes ago. They’re tearing the place apart looking for the server."

"They won't find it in the house," I replied quietly. "The entrance to the storm shelter is hidden beneath the floorboards of the old barn."

Suddenly, my tactical headset buzzed with Jessica's voice. She was five miles away, having successfully led the decoy team's secondary tracking unit into a wild goose chase near the highway.

"Captain, I’ve got two vehicles pursuing my location, but I’ve successfully led them into a police speed trap," Jessica reported, a sharp chuckle in her voice. "State troopers just pulled them over with weapons drawn."

"Good job, Jess. Hold your position and cover the main road," I ordered. "Mac and I are moving in."

We approached the barn silently. Through the heavy wooden slats, I could see flashlights flickering inside. Two of Vance’s mercenaries were inside, using a crowbar to pry up floorboards near the tractor bay.

Standing near the open doorway was Viktor Vance himself—a tall, heavily built man with a scar running down his left cheek, holding a silenced pistol.

"Check the corners!" Vance barked in a thick accent. "Arthur Wilson said the girl’s father was a military prepper. The server has to be down here!"

"You're looking in the wrong place, Vance," I said loudly, stepping out from the shadows into the threshold of the barn, my standard-issue sidearm raised and leveled directly at his chest.

Vance whipped around with impressive speed, aiming his weapon at me, while his two men instantly raised their assault rifles.

"Captain Katie Harvey," Vance sneered, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You should have taken the five million dollars. Now your little crusade ends in an unfortunate burglary gone wrong."

"You're out of your element, mercenary," Mac’s cold voice echoed from the high rafters above.

Before Vance could look up, Mac dropped a flashbang grenade right into the center of the barn floor.

BANG!

A blinding flash of white light and a deafening 170-decibel shockwave erupted through the structure. The two mercenaries dropped their weapons, clutching their ears and screaming in agony.

Vance, a seasoned operator, stumbled backward, firing two wild shots toward the door. I ducked behind a heavy wooden support beam, swept low, and kicked his legs out from under him.

Vance crashed heavily onto the dirt floor, dropping his gun. He scrambled to his feet with surprising quickness, pulling a tactical combat knife from his vest and lunging at me with a brutal overhead strike.

I dodged to the left, trapping his wrist, and slammed my elbow directly into his jaw. The crack echoed through the barn. Vance groaned, spinning around to slash at my torso, but I caught his arm, twisted his shoulder out of its socket with a joint lock, and drove him face-first into the concrete base of the water pump.

He went instantly limp.

Mac descended from the rafters, swiftly zip-tying the wrists and ankles of the two disoriented mercenaries on the ground.

"Clean execution, Captain," Mac panted, wiping dust off his tactical vest.

I walked over to Vance’s unconscious body, searched his tactical vest, and pulled out his encrypted satellite phone. The screen was still active, displaying an open voice call.

I picked up the phone and placed it to my ear.

"Vance? Vance, answer me!" Arthur Wilson's furious voice screamed through the speaker. "Did you secure the hard drives? Is the girl handled?"

I took a deep breath, letting the sound of the rain fill the line before I spoke.

"Your contractors are down, Mr. Wilson," I said softly. "And your satellite phone location is currently being traced by federal marshals."

Silence fell over the line. For five long seconds, Arthur couldn't even manage to breathe.

"Katie..." Arthur’s voice trembled, all his corporate bravado vanishing into thin air. "Listen to me... we can settle this. Name your price. Ten million. Twenty million. Anything you want!"