Undaunted - Shirleen Davies Page 0,67

time.

“To confirm, this is not a body snatch, gentlemen. You’re there for a DA op to destroy our targets.” Direct action missions were a strength of Navy SEALs involving their specialized skills to seize, destroy, capture, exploit, recover, or damage the target.

“On my count, gentlemen. Three…two…one. Go! Go! Go!”

There were no visuals of the action at either location showing the two teams advancing on their targets.

Rock’s red team moved to within one-hundred-seventy yards of their targets. “Wrangler. Communicate our presence.”

Raising the blow horn, he brought it to his mouth. “Attention, Night Devils. Come out with your hands up. If you have weapons, leave them on the floor. Repeat. Exit the building with your hands raised.”

Before Wrangler could lower the horn, shots whizzed out through the windows. None got close, but the Devils had inadvertently sealed their fate.

“Bas. Raider. Ready your weapons,” Rock called through his comm unit.

Each lifted an M320A1 grenade launcher, resting them on their shoulders. Admiral Grayson had obtained several of the newly fielded Marine weapons for the Brethren.

“Wrangler. One more time.”

“Roger that, Rock.” Again, he lifted the blow horn. “Night Devils. This is your last chance to come out with your hands up. Repeat. Surrender or prepare for the consequences.”

The same as before, bullets hit the ground, none coming close to any of the Brethren.

“Bas. Raider. On my count. Three…two…one. Deploy.”

Not three seconds passed before the two grenades slammed through windows from the front and side.

“One more round.”

“Roger that,” Bas and Raider answered in unison.

Again, two grenades breached the clubhouse. Ear-piercing screams came from the inside. Smoke spewed upward, flames taking shape inside.

Rock touched his earpiece. “Ready your weapons.” Waiting, he began to wonder if all the men planned to take their chances inside.

“They’re coming out the east door.” Wrangler’s voice came across the comm units.

Those escaping still held their weapons, bringing them up to fire indiscriminately into the night.

“Finish this,” Rock ordered. He raised his weapon, aimed, and fired.

The sound of M4A1 assault rifles discharging hit his ears. Gut clenching, sweat beaded on his forehead, but he continued to pick out targets and eliminate them.

Rock reminded himself of all the pain the Devils had caused—the people they’d killed in cold blood, the human trafficking, and drug smuggling. In his mind, he accepted they were evil to their core. The world would be better off without them.

Several minutes passed before the firing stopped. Lowering his weapon, Rock adjusted his night vision goggles, scanning the area. Other than the sound of flames crackling, the area had gone eerily silent. Time to survey the area and report to Wrath.

Fifty miles north, Ghost and his team moved through the lush landscape of the property where Viktor and his men were holed up. Tracker continued forward to recon the house, stunned to find the windows open, Russian accents streaming outside.

“Cocky sonsofbitches left the windows open,” Tracker reported through his comm. “Confirm our targets are inside.”

“Roger. Get your ass back here,” Ghost replied. “Moses. Let the targets know the welcoming committee is here.”

The same as Wrangler on Rock’s team, Moses lifted the blow horn. “Viktor Gelonkin. You and your men are under arrest. Leave your weapons behind and exit the building with your hands raised.”

The words had just left his mouth when two men emerged through the front door, firing in their general direction.

The instant Tracker reached them, Ghost ordered Fargo and Chaos to shoulder their M320A1 grenade launchers.

“Fire when ready.”

The first two grenades slid through the open windows, exploding inside.

“Once more,” Ghost ordered.

Fargo and Chaos repeated the action, satisfaction rolling through both when the grenades hit their targets.

Two more Russians joined the first two, firing indiscriminately.

“The range is open,” Ghost boomed through the comm unit. In seconds, the men raised their rifles, picking off one man after another.

“This is almost too easy, Ghost.” Iggy, the last man on the blue team, fired again.

In less than five minutes, the firing ceased. “Chaos, Fargo, and Iggy, secure the area and report.”

Moving through the bushes to the manicured front yard, they kept low, rifles secured against their shoulders. They split up, checking the downed men for any sign of life. The fire inside the house was still too intense to get close. Iggy and Chaos checked the sides and back, finding another dead Russian lying on the ground.

Chaos lowered his rifle. “Area clear and secure, Ghost. Six dead outside.”

“House is too hot to enter,” Fargo added, his gaze wandering over the destruction.

“Roger. Get on home, men. We roll out in five.”

Brittany hit the cool