Chapter 246 Crosshairs
Darkness had fallen over the city when Maverick pulled up in a black sedan outside the hotel. Ethan emerged from the entrance, Jade's limp form cradled against his chest. Her head rested in the crook of his neck, face ashen against the dark fabric of his shirt.
"All clear?" Ethan asked, sliding into the backseat with Jade.
Maverick nodded, eyes constantly scanning the street. "For now."
The car had barely moved twenty feet when headlights suddenly blazed to life from a side alley. A black SUV roared toward them, engine screaming.
"Incoming!" Maverick shouted, but it was too late.
The SUV slammed into their sedan's front end, sending it spinning half a circle. Ethan's body jolted forward, but he twisted to absorb the impact, shielding Jade with his own body.
Before anyone could recover, a figure leaned out the SUV's window, an automatic weapon gleaming in the streetlight.
"Down!" Ethan yelled, throwing himself over Jade as bullets shredded through the car's frame.
The windshield exploded inward. Glass rained down as the staccato burst of gunfire continued. Maverick ducked below the dashboard, drew his weapon, and returned fire through the shattered window.
"Tires are shot," Maverick called out, his voice barely audible over the gunfire. "We need to move!"
Ethan kicked open the rear door and slipped out, Jade's unconscious form still clutched against him. He crouched behind the car, looking for an escape route, when he spotted a figure moving against the flow of fleeing pedestrians, heading directly toward them.
"Sir, you need to go!" Sloane appeared beside him, weapon drawn. "I'll handle this."
---
Thirty minutes later, Ethan sat in a dingy motel room, Jade still unconscious on the bed. His shirt was spattered with blood—some his, most not. A soft knock at the door had him reaching for his weapon.
"It's me," Sloane's voice came through.
Ethan opened the door to find Sloane alone, her face grim.
"Maverick?" Ethan asked.
"No contact yet," Sloane replied, closing the door behind her. She glanced at Jade, her expression softening momentarily before turning back to business. "This place isn't safe. We need to leave Africa entirely. Shadow has operatives everywhere on the continent now."
Sloane moved to the window, checking the street below. "Our contacts at Siwa Oasis are heading to the southeast border. That should draw some of their attention away."
"While they're distracted, we make our move," Ethan concluded.
Sloane nodded. "Exactly. With their forces split, we have a better chance of getting out."
---
Half an hour later, Sloane left to secure transportation. Ethan watched from the window as she crossed the motel's parking lot, heading for a beat-up sedan they'd acquired.
Sloane had nearly reached the car when she suddenly froze, dropping into a crouch. Her head swiveled, scanning the surroundings. In one fluid motion, she leapt away from the vehicle.
The explosion shattered the night, a ball of orange flame engulfing the car. The concussive blast rattled the windows of the motel.
Ethan reached for his weapon just as the floorboards outside his room creaked. Someone was approaching.
---
Sloane rolled behind a concrete barrier, clutching his right arm where a piece of shrapnel had torn through his jacket. Three figures in tactical gear converged on his position, their movements precise and coordinated.
Professional killers. Shadow operatives.
Sloane fired, forcing them to take cover, but her magazine emptied too quickly. She tossed the useless weapon aside and drew a combat knife. The first operative lunged at him, and Sloane met the attack head-on, driving her knife through the attacker's throat.
The second and third operatives moved in simultaneously. Sloane fought with brutal efficiency, but he was outmatched. A kick to her wounded arm sent him stumbling backward.
Just as the third operative raised his weapon for a kill shot, gunfire erupted from the darkness. The operative's head snapped back, body crumpling to the ground.
Maverick emerged from the shadows, his face bloodied but his aim steady. "Sorry I'm late."
At this moment, a black SUV and two armored vehicles screeched into the motel parking lot. Men in tactical gear poured out, led by a man with blond curls cropped at his ears.
"Secure the perimeter!" Night barked, his face contorted with rage. "Where's Haxton? Where the hell is he keeping her?"
His team efficiently neutralized the remaining Shadow operatives, their precision betraying years of professional training.
---
They burst into the motel room to find signs of a violent struggle. Blood spattered the wall, and two bodies lay on the floor—neither of them Ethan or Jade. A broken phone—Ethan's—lay crushed near the bathroom.
"Fuck!" Night kicked over a chair, his face flushed with anger. "That lying bastard told me she was in the northwest sector. He used me as a goddamn distraction, let me draw their fire while he snuck her out!"
Chris Jensen stood in the doorway, his expensive suit incongruous in the cheap motel room. "Calm down. Priority now is finding them."
"So what now?" Sloane asked. "Should we go find Mr. Haxton?"
"No," Chris answered before Night could speak. "Shadow is watching every hospital, and we'd only lead them to Ethan and Jade if we tried tracking them ourselves."
"So we just sit on our asses?" Night demanded.
"No," Chris replied calmly. "You two should get that arm treated properly," he nodded to Sloane. "Then wait for Ethan to contact you. Meanwhile..."
Night suddenly turned and stalked out of the room.
"Where are you going?" Chris called, following him.
"To find those bastards," Night replied without turning. "I'm going to kill every operative I can find. One less for Jade to worry about."
---
For the next ten days, Africa became a battleground for three forces: Night's team hunting Shadow operatives, SO hunting Jade, and Ethan evading them.
Night's aggressive campaign against Shadow provided excellent cover for Ethan and Jade. The organization's resources were divided, forcing them to proceed more cautiously against both threats.
Meanwhile, Ethan and Jade moved constantly through Ethiopia, never staying in one place for more than a day. Each time Jade's wounds began to heal, the next hasty relocation would reopen them. Her fever would break, only to return hours later. Her shoulder wound had become infected, the flesh angry and swollen.
After nearly two weeks of this brutal cycle, Ethan drove their latest stolen car toward another small town, Jade unconscious in the back seat, her freshly stitched wounds carefully bandaged. He planned to leave Ethiopia for Somalia, then find a way out of Africa entirely.
The car suddenly sputtered and died in the middle of the road. Ethan tried the ignition repeatedly, but the engine wouldn't turn over. As he focused on the dashboard, he didn't notice the red laser dot that appeared, traveling through the windshield to settle on Jade's head in the front passenger seat.