Page 201 of Damián

The effect is instant, horrific, and painful as hell… The moment the clear liquid hits the wound, the chemical reaction occurs, burning the blood vessels to seal them, and the raw, red tissue bubbles as it turns black.

“Jesus fuck, Tae!” Knox grunts. “We’ve talked about this. At least let me know first.”

“What for? It hurts the same whether you know beforehand or not.”

Logan looks at me and mumbles, “Maybe we do need those psychological tests.”

I nod in agreement as Tae takes out a pre-loaded syringe from his kit and stabs the needle straight into Knox’s shoulder.

“Dose of Toradol and a localized blocker. It’ll dull the pain and keep you on your feet for another twenty minutes. Don’t push it.”

Leif tosses a couple of magazines across the room to Björn and me. “Take ’em. Last of the 5.56. Make the shots count.”

“Ah, thanks! I was on my last one.” I catch mine mid-air and holster the magazines in two of my vest’s holders.

While the rest finish getting ready, I turn to Oliver and pull him slightly away from the team.

“Is there any chance in hell I can convince you to stay out here?”

Oliver’s gorgeous hazel eyes lock on mine before he shakes his head.

“No, Damián. If you’re going, I am going.”

I press my forehead against his and sigh. “Yeah… I thought so.”

I pull back, sliding my hands down to his chest, and yank tightly on the straps of my Kevlar vest, double-checking that everything is secure, perfectly fitted, and covering his vital organs.

Satisfied, I pat the plates.

“No matter what happens, you always stay behind me,” I say, and he nods.

“Ready?” Logan asks.

“Ready,” I say, and the rest of the Harknetts flank around us before we walk in.

We move down the hidden staircase to a large, cavernous bunker. The room is blindingly white, and not from the paint, but from the hundreds of bricks of cocaine stacked on wooden pallets, surrounded by crates of stolen weapons.

And of course, we aren’t alone.

“Get down, now!” Knox screams as dozens of Rafael’s men open fire from behind the crates.

The bullets rip through the plastic wrapping the bricks and pallets, and millions of dollars of cocaine explode into the air, creating a thick, white fog that fills the room.

In an instant, completely used to these types of situations, we Harknetts yank up our neck gaiters to cover our noses and mouths.

“Cover up, Leif,” Knox says.

“Oh, my Gods! It was one time when I forgot my neck tube.”

Björn laughs. “Your eyes looked like a cute little tarsier for almost two hours.”

Tae grabs Oliver by the shoulder and places a medical mask over his face, securing it tight.

“Keep it on and don’t inhale the dust!” Tae yells over the gunfire.

I check that Oliver is safe and then follow the team through the white haze. I shoot at everything that moves, and between the clouds of swirling cocaine dust, I manage to see a man surrounded by guards.

“I have eyes on Rafael!” I call out over the comms. “Nine o’clock, four guards around him.”