Chapter 4 – Rahmani’s Retaliation
Brussels – Omega Pact Command Centre, 05:45 CET
Imran al-Din Rahmani stood before a vast tactical holo-map, stroking his trimmed black beard as his Croatian operations chief delivered the grim report.
“Our Galway safehouse is gone. All assets dead or captured. Na Fianna Nua retrieved €10 million in hard currency and full database backups.”
Rahmani’s dark eyes burned with cold fury. “Then it’s time they learn what real retaliation feels like. Activate Team Zulu in Dublin. Full authorisation – snipers, VBIEDs, cyber blackouts.”
The Croatian hesitated. “Sir, that could cause mass civilian casualties—”
Rahmani turned, his hand snapping to grip the man’s throat. “And?”
The mercenary gasped, face purple, as Rahmani released him.
“Do it,” Rahmani whispered, voice low and deathly calm.
🚨 Dublin – Na Fianna Nua HQ, 09:17
Sarah paced the operations floor, tablet in hand as Niamh sat cross-legged on a storage crate, headphones on, decrypting Omega chatter. Salty stood nearby, sipping black coffee from his battered thermos mug, scanning intel updates on a cracked tablet.
Suddenly, Niamh ripped off her headphones.
“Boss, incoming chatter. Omega has authorised Zulu Protocol in Dublin. We’re looking at sniper teams, car bombs, the works.”
Salty’s eyes narrowed. “Locations?”
“Grafton Street, Port Tunnel, and… here.”
Sarah’s breath caught. “They’re targeting HQ?”
Salty downed his coffee and set the mug down calmly. “Of course they are.”
🔫 Zulu Strikes
Fifteen minutes later, gunfire erupted outside Na Fianna Nua HQ. A white Transit van exploded near the front gate, fireball shattering windows and sending masonry crashing into the operations room. Dust and plaster rained down.
Sarah hit the ground hard, ears ringing. Through the smoke, she saw Salty already up, H&K 416 raised, firing controlled bursts at two Omega gunmen advancing through the broken gate.
“CONTACT FRONT!” he roared, voice cutting through the chaos.
Ruairí appeared from the side stairwell, Benelli shotgun barking thunderous slugs into a black-clad sniper on the roof opposite. The body toppled limply onto the rain-slick tarmac below.
⚔️ Aftermath
An hour later, the smoking yard was strewn with Omega corpses. Fires smouldered in overturned vehicles. Na Fianna Nua fighters moved methodically, clearing debris and treating the wounded.
Sarah sat on an ammo crate, head in her hands, trembling. Salty approached quietly, placing his rifle down and sitting beside her.
“You alright?” he asked softly.
She nodded, eyes red with tears. “I… I killed two men today. Shot them in the back as they ran.”
Salty placed a calloused hand gently on hers. “You did what needed to be done. That’s war, Sarah.”
Her shoulders shook. “I hate this, Seán. The blood, the screaming… the smell of burned flesh.”
Salty slipped an arm around her and pulled her close. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling the scent of cordite, sweat, and old leather. For a long moment, they sat there in the smoky morning light, the world silent but for the distant wail of sirens.
❤️ A Quiet Interlude
That night, after debriefings and perimeter checks, Salty returned to his small private room in HQ. The door creaked open quietly. Sarah stood there in the dim lamp glow, hair damp from the showers, wearing a simple grey vest and fatigue trousers.
Without a word, she crossed the floor and pressed her lips to his. Her kiss was trembling but hungry, seeking comfort against the terror of the day.
Salty hesitated, then cupped her face with his rough hands, kissing her back deeply. They undressed quietly, folding clothes into neat piles on the battered wooden chair.
She lay back on the narrow cot, pulling him down into her warmth. Their lovemaking was slow, desperate, almost silent – a grounding act to remind themselves they were still human in a world of metal, blood, and fire.
When they were done, Salty wrapped his arms around her as she lay curled against his chest. She traced the old shrapnel scars along his ribs.
“Promise me we’ll survive this,” she whispered.
Salty closed his eyes, burying his face in her golden hair.
“I promise, love. I promise.”
No comments:
Post a Comment