There's only one way in.

John knew this.

He knew because there was the point-of-no-return.

And he never thought much about how he'd die—not seriously anyway.

He spent most of his life outliving his enemies but if he thought about it. He wouldn't have pictured this.

Across the room, Harkin smirked, smug and certain like he'd already won. He had a knife in one hand and the other gripping behind her neck, enough to apply pressure for her breath but he would squeeze her out if she scream or say a word. And she was bound to a chair. Her head lolling forward like a rag doll, her breathing too shallow for my liking.

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

He'd come in prepared to kill and get her out. Simple. Direct. Ruthless. That's how he operate but one look at her—at the way her lip bled, her wrists rubbed raw against the bindings—everything inside of him twisted into something desperate.

This wasn't an op anymore.

This was her.

The only person who made him feel like there was more to life than duty.

"You're out of options," Harkin said. He toyed with the knife in his hand, like he had all the time in the world. "You've got one shot before I finish what I started with her. You ready to take it?"

He clenched my jaw, my fingers tightening around the grip of my firearm, equipped with a suppressor. Every fiber of his being screamed to pull the trigger, but he couldn't risk it. Not while he was close enough to her that even a stray shot might—

"Let her go," he growled and repeated, the sound of a man with nothing left to lose. "You want me? I'm right here."

Harkin chuckled, like I'd just told him the funniest joke.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that? No, I think I'll make you watch before I put you down like the dog you are."

Three.

His finger shifted to the trigger.

"Go ahead, old man. Take your shot. I'm close and I'll slice her."

Two.

His grip on the knife tightened as he moved it closer to her neck.

Her eyes were wide and full of fear. She didn't speak—she couldn't—but the silent plea was there. He locked eyes with her, willing her to trust him, to hold on for just a few more seconds.

"Please," she whimpered and cried as the bastard jerked her head back by her hair, exposing her throat to the cold steel.

"Shut up," he hissed at her. The blade pressing just enough to make a thin red line appear on her skin.

His stomach churned at the sight, but he kept his mind set on him.

"Easy," he said, very calm. "You hurt her, and I'll make you regret you were born."

Harkin laughed again, that mocking sound grate against my nerves.

"Oh, you're the scary one? Let's see how tough you really are when she starts screaming."

One.

His finger tightened on the trigger as my breathing slowed, everything narrowing down to this moment—he remembered the words Gabby has said at the club during their undercover mission. He'd took her word like a promise.

"You get two shots because if he laid his hand on Charlie once and did it again. I want you to kill that fuckhead for me."

Time's up, fuckhead.

The suppressed shot barely made a sound, just a soft hiss as the bullet left the chamber.

It was a clean shot and the bullet hit its mark dead center—his forehead.

His expression froze for a split second before his body crumpled. The knife falling from his hand as he hit the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

She screamed after the shot. And when she turned around and saw the body on the ground. She whipped her head back to him, tears streamed down her face as if she was trying to process what just happened.

He began to move, crossing the room in long strides. The SIG Sauer was still raised, his eyes scanning for any threats.

Clear.

As he holstered his weapon before pulling out his knife and crouched in front of her. His hands went straight to the ropes binding her wrists.

"Hey," he said, my voice softer now but urgent. "It's okay. He's dead."

Her tear-filled eyes met mine. "You... how..."

"I've got you," he interrupted gently, freeing her hands. "It's over."

She collapsed forward and her arms wrapped around him like he was her lifeline. Her face buried to his chest and she began to sob. My hand went to the back of her head, holding her close. John closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. Silently thanking God. Holding her like she was the only thing keeping his heart beating. One hand cradled the back of her head, fingers threaded in her tangled hair, the other wrapped protectively around her waist.

"I've got you," he repeated, voice barely audible now. "I've got you."

And for the first time in years, maybe longer.

He let himself feel it.

Not just the rage or the instinct but love.

The broken, aching, overwhelming weight of almost losing the one person who had made him human again. Charlie clung to him, her body shaking with sobs. The adrenaline was wearing off now, leaving her dizzy and disoriented. John stroked her hair, murmuring soft reassurances as she wept into his chest.

"It's alright, love. I've got you now." His voice was a soothing rumble, his embrace warm and secure.

After a few moments, Charlie took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted her head from his chest. Her eyes were red and puffy.

"I want to go home," she said weakly.

Johnathan nodded, his eyes soft with understanding and he lifted his fingerless glove to move some strand of her hair behind her ear and kissed her forehead. She closed her eyes and sighed breathlessly.

"Can you stand?"

She nodded 'yes' as an answer.

When he gently helped her to her feet, keeping an arm around her waist for support. Charlie leaned into him, grateful for his solid presence. Her legs were shaking, and she wasn't sure she could have stood on her own. She felt the warmth and strength of his arm around her as they slowly made their way out of the room. She never looked back at the dead body, nor think about it.

This was enough of a nightmare she had experienced of being kidnapped in this unfamiliar area she had never been in.

"Where are we?"

"Under the tunnel, love," he answered gently.

"Oh," she said weakly. Her legs were unsteady, her mind still reeling from the ordeal.

"Can't remember the last time something scared me that bad," he added quietly, then almost smiled. "Your mother has told me about Cam being sent at the hospital at Germany, after someone lend a hand that I wish I could thank him. I almost thought I wouldn't see her again, and now, I thought the same about you."

Those words he had said made her heart constricted more, knowing how much his unspoken emotions between her and his daughter, it almost made her heart race the more he opens his heart and confess. She could feel the warmth of his large body next to hers as they made their way through the dimly lit tunnel. She was still in shock, barely processing what had just happened. John kept his arm firmly around her waist, supporting her weight as her legs threatened to give out.

"Almost there," he murmured.

Charlie blinked slowly, trying to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Whatever the drug that Harkin had injected in her, it left her limbs heavy and still her mind fuzzy. She leaned into John, letting him guide her along.

"John, I don't feel good. Can we stop for a minute?"

He stopped and glanced at her. His eyes softened with concern as he took in her pale face. The adrenaline that had fueled him through the fight was fading, leaving him hyper aware of her vulnerability.

"Yeah," he said gently. "Let's sit you down for a minute."

He guided her over to a stack of crates off to the side of the tunnel. Charlie sank down gratefully, leaning her head back against the rough wood. John crouched down in front of her, tilting her chin up to study her face.

"How are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," she answered weakly. "And kind of numb all over."

His jaw tightened, anger flashing in his eyes. "Bastard must have drugged you. I'll have my team get you checked out as soon as we're clear."

Charlie managed a faint smile, reaching up to lay her hand against his bearded cheek.

"You came back," she said in half-whisper, though her voice was weak.

The corners of his mouth quirked up a little. He turned his head to press a light kiss to her palm before enclosing her hand in his own.

"I'll always come for you, Charlie. No matter what." His voice was low and fervent.

Her heart fluttered at the intensity in his icy blue eyes. The way he had said held truth like he would move heaven and earth to protect her. Still, seeing that iron determination directed at saving her made warmth bloom in her chest.

"Did you come all this way alone?" she asked.

"No, I had my men who volunteered for you," he answered while smiling. "Speaking of that, they must wonder about me."

As he turned on his radio, Charlie watched as he set up his radio and there was static of many different voices and channels until he held his mic and spoke in command, "Bravo-Six to Seven-Zero and Six-One, mission complete. Target down. Package secure."

Seconds later, a reply came through.

"Roger that, Captain. Extraction ETA five minutes." Ghost finally said, almost his tone held with relief and calm.

John helped her to her feet again, keeping one arm around her waist for support. "Almost there. They're on the way to get us out."

Charlie nodded, still feeling dizzy. She concentrated on taking each step as John led her through the shadowy tunnel, knowing the way to the exit.