The Call

The call comes at 0300.

I'm not sleeping. Haven't slept properly in years. So I answer before the second ring.

"She's gone. Convoy hit three hours ago. No survivors confirmed."

I don't ask who. I don't need to.

Maya Chen. War correspondent. Two-time Peabody winner. The woman who walked out of my life five years ago and took something vital with her.

I've been tracking her bylines ever since. Every conflict zone. Every dangerous story. Every time she got too close to something that could kill her.

I told myself it was professional courtesy. Keeping tabs.

Lying to myself.

"Where?"

"Syria. Eastern sector. Deep in hostile territory."

"Official rescue op?"

The pause tells me everything.

"Negative. Politically sensitive. We're being told to stand down."

Stand down. Let her die because some diplomat doesn't want the optics.

I'm already moving. Grabbing gear. Calculating logistics.

"Get me Prophet. And anyone else who still owes me favors."

"Cole, this isn't sanctioned. You go in there without backup, without official support..."

"I don't care."

Silence on the line.

"You're going to throw away your career for a woman who left you?"

I stop. Stare at the photo I keep in my wallet. Her face, laughing at something I said. The last good day before everything went wrong.

"She left because I couldn't choose her." My voice is flat. Certain. "I'm choosing now."

I hang up.

Prophet answers on the first ring. Like he was waiting.

"What are we doing, boss?"

"Extraction. Syria. Off the books. Possibly suicidal."

"When do we leave?"

"Three hours. Anyone else who's in, meet at the hangar."

"Copy that."

Three hours.

I pack in forty minutes. The rest I spend staring at that photo.

Five years ago, Maya stood in my apartment with her bag already packed.

"I love you," she said. "But you love the mission more. And I won't compete with a ghost I can't see."

I let her go.

I told myself it was for the best. She deserved someone who could be there. Someone who wasn't married to danger first and her second.

But I never moved on. Never tried. Every woman since was just filling time.

And now she might be dead.

The hangar is full when I arrive. Prophet. Slim. Ghost. Three other guys who owe me their lives and came to repay the debt.

"Gentlemen." I look at each of them. "This isn't sanctioned. No extraction plan. No backup. You walk out that door now, no one blames you."

No one moves.

"Alright." I pull up the map. The coordinates. The compound where she's most likely being held. "Here's what we know."

We plan until dawn. Every contingency. Every possible failure point.

At 0600, we're wheels up.

Hostile territory. No official support. Just five guys and one chance.

I lean back in the transport and let myself drift.

Maya always said I'd choose the mission over her.

She was right.

But she's the mission now.

And I'm going to bring her home or die trying.