Once everyone had regrouped, Howl and Heartbeat remained behind, ready at a moment's notice to provide extraction. The rest of the team split into two groups and began silently advancing toward the estate.
Owen and Sam didn't bother merging their teams. They were all seasoned operators, used to their own styles. Forcing a merge would only create friction. It was better this way.
Sam's team consisted of Sam, Bryan, Wright, and Freakshow. Owen's team included Owen, Swagg, Ghost, Fred, Bayev, and Ela.
Behind them, the sound of rotor blades faded away. Howl and Heartbeat saluted from the helicopters, signaling their support. They would not be joining the infiltration—someone had to be ready for the exfil.
Ahead, the two teams advanced soundlessly toward the estate. The two-kilometer approach passed quickly. Before them lay open terrain. At the far end stood the estate's main gate, flanked by two tall towers, sentries visible at the top scanning the surroundings.
The teams halted at the edge of the forest, watching everything carefully.
"Becky, status report."
"All clear."
With Becky's confirmation, Owen gave Sam an OK signal. Ever since Dolok had left the estate, Becky's job had been to monitor the surrounding area, alerting them to any movement or reinforcements.
Sam studied the terrain and pointed off toward a distant flank. Owen nodded. The teams began circling around to the side of the estate. Their objective was a decapitation strike—get in, find Laita Sánchez, eliminate him quietly, and extract. This was revenge, not a full-scale war. Taking down the entire Sánchez cartel wasn't something even the Mexican government could manage—certainly not a small team like theirs.
Time passed, minute by minute. No one spoke. When communication was needed, they used hand signals. This was the heart of the Sánchez empire. Even with some forces gone with Dolok, the remaining personnel would still be formidable.
Raindrops tapped softly on Owen's boonie hat, muffling the already stealthy movement. Everyone had opted for either boonie hats or baseball caps instead of helmets to reduce noise and profile. Gear was kept light. Suppressors were mounted on all weapons except the heavy firepower.
From the side of one building came raised voices. It was likely where the guards were bunking. The team ignored it, skirting past and reaching the main structure's flank.
Rain continued to fall. There were few people outside, and the rain masked their footsteps—an enormous advantage for their infiltration. It seemed even God was on their side today.
To the side, they found a small yard scattered with soccer balls and child-sized goals—a child's play area. From the treeline, the team watched a moment, then Owen and Sam exchanged signals. The two teams split again, each moving in from different angles.
A glass sliding door, fogged by rain, stood ahead. Owen raised his weapon, taking aim. Beside him, Ghost silently slid the door open. The room beyond was empty. Omega team slipped inside.
From deeper in the house, the muffled sound of a soccer match playing on TV drifted through the corridors. Owen glanced down the branching hallways, made a few hand signs, and Omega split into three sub-groups to advance.
Ghost moved with meticulous care. Wet soles on wooden floors could easily give them away. At the end of one hallway, a fridge door was open. Someone inside was rummaging around, completely unaware of Ghost's approach.
Ghost crept in like a true phantom. He got so close the man still hadn't noticed. Ghost quietly set down his weapon—opting for a silent, barehanded kill.
The man was still deep in the fridge. Suddenly, Ghost ripped the door open and drove a punch into the man's throat, crushing his windpipe. Before he could collapse or cry out, Ghost stepped behind him and snapped his neck.
Ghost and Bayev dragged the body behind a cabinet and concealed it. Meanwhile, Owen and Ela followed the TV sounds to a lounge. Inside, two men were sprawled on the couch eating chips, eyes glued to the screen—completely oblivious.
Owen and Ela exchanged glances. Two muffled pops, and it was over.
Elsewhere, a sentry wearing a rain poncho huddled under an awning smoking a cigarette. Behind him, Bryan appeared like a shadow. A combat knife slashed his throat, blood spraying in a crimson arc before rain washed it away. The sentry's attempted scream was smothered by Bryan's hand.
With the guard down, Freakshow pulled out a collapsible ladder and set it against the second-floor balcony. The team climbed up one by one.
Back on the first floor, Swagg and Fred cleared another empty room and continued forward. At a curved hallway, they turned a corner and spotted Ghost and Bayev approaching from the other side.
Just as they were about to link up, Swagg flashed a quick hand signal—stop. Footsteps echoed softly from between the two teams, from the central spiral staircase. One set of feet. Getting closer.
A man appeared at the top of the stairs. Ghost held his fire. Swagg took the shot, dropping the man with a clean shot to the chest. He stepped forward and caught the body before it thudded to the floor.
The others instantly secured the area. No one else came down. No alarms were triggered. Fred slung his weapon behind his back and helped Swagg drag the body into a corner.
None of the operators on this mission carried sniper rifles—only standard suppressed rifles.
The first floor was now fully cleared—only a few guards had been present. At the spiral stairs, Freakshow's silhouette appeared. Owen left Bayev and Ghost to cover the entrance. Bayev was packing a PKM machine gun—lethal and loud. If things went sideways, the two of them could hold the line and buy the others time.
Upstairs, the second floor yielded even fewer surprises. Only two maids and no guards. The team cleared the floor quickly and began ascending to the third.
On the third floor, they split into pairs and moved swiftly room to room. Owen opened a door—only to be met face to face with a man stepping out.
The man reacted instantly. Instead of retreating, he lunged forward, grabbing Owen's rifle and initiating a struggle.
Ela raised her gun, but the two were tangled too tightly—she couldn't risk a shot.
Owen didn't hesitate. He released his rifle and, in one fluid motion, drew his sidearm from his thigh holster and fired upward multiple times at point-blank range.
The attacker dropped, dead. But the gunshots shattered their silence.
Outside, the guards' distant chatter abruptly ceased. The third-floor team accelerated their search, cutting down the few guards who rushed out at the sound.
Moments later, the roar of Bayev's PKM thundered from below.
The estate had been alerted. Reinforcements were on the way.
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