The Iranian hotel's second floor hallway echoed with the sound of approaching footsteps. Jaz, her back pressed against the wall, knew her options were dwindling by the second. The mission to eliminate Jarif had gone sideways, and now she was trapped.
"Jaz, status report," Patricia's voice crackled through her earpiece, tension evident even through the static.
"Not good," Jaz whispered. "I'm cut off. No way down except..." She glanced at the window at the end of the hallway. "I might have to make an express exit."
Patricia's sharp intake of breath was audible. "Jaz, that's a plate glass window. The fall could kill you."
"So could staying here," Jaz retorted, her mind racing through the limited options.
Outside, concealed in a nondescript van, Top and Preach exchanged worried glances. They had already lost one team member earlier in the year; losing Jaz was unthinkable.
"McG, Amir," Top's voice was low and urgent. "Get to the back alley. Now!"
The two men slipped away from their positions, weaving through the crowded hotel lobby. They reached the alley just as Jaz's voice came through their comms:
"This is really going to hurt."
McG and Amir skidded to a halt in the alley just in time to see Jaz's silhouette framed in the second-story window. Time seemed to slow as she launched herself into the air.
McG's heart raced, his medical training kicking into overdrive.Twenty feet. Possible fractures, internal bleeding, head trauma.He mentally catalogued the supplies in his med kit, praying it would be enough.
Amir's thoughts flashed to his time undercover. He'd seen people broken by falls like this, lives ended or forever changed in an instant.Not Jaz,he pleaded silently.Not our Jaz.
The sound of shattering glass filled the air as Jaz's body plummeted. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, shards of glass raining down around her like deadly confetti.
For a split second, neither man moved, the shock of what they'd witnessed paralyzing them. Then, as one, they surged forward.
McG's medical training kicked in immediately. He rushed forward, Amir covering him, and assessed Jaz's condition. She was conscious but dazed, multiple lacerations visible through her torn clothing.
"We need to move," Amir hissed, his eyes scanning for any signs they'd been spotted.
Together, they half-carried, half-dragged Jaz to the van. Top threw open the back doors, his face a mask of concern and guilt. As soon as they were inside, Preach gunned the engine, tires screeching as they sped away from the scene.
In the back of the van, McG worked feverishly. "She's going into shock," he announced, his voice clipped. "Top, start hydrating. I'm going to need you for a transfusion."
Top nodded, reaching for a water bottle, his eyes never leaving Jaz's pale face. "This is on me," he muttered. "I pushed too hard on this mission."
McG's jaw clenched. "With all due respect, Top, I need space to work. Your guilt isn't helping Jaz right now."
The tension in the van was palpable as Preach navigated the winding streets of Tehran. Every bump in the road elicited a groan from Jaz, each sound tearing at the team's collective heart.
"ETA to safehouse?" McG called out.
"Ten minutes," Preach responded, his usually calm voice tinged with worry.
McG nodded grimly. "Hang in there, Jaz," he murmured, applying pressure to the worst of her wounds. "Just a little longer."
As the van raced through the night, each team member was lost in their own thoughts. The weight of the mission, the fear of loss, and the bonds of their unconventional family all swirled together in a potent emotional cocktail.
They had escaped the immediate danger, but the real challenge was just beginning. As they approached the safehouse, one question hung unspoken in the air: Would they all make it home this time?
The Fall
McG and Amir skidded to a halt in the alley just in time to see Jaz's silhouette framed in the second-story window. Time seemed to slow as she launched herself into the air.
McG's heart raced, his medical training kicking into overdrive. Twenty feet. Possible fractures, internal bleeding, head trauma. He mentally catalogued the supplies in his med kit, praying it would be enough.
Amir's thoughts flashed to his time undercover. He'd seen people broken by falls like this, lives ended or forever changed in an instant. Not Jaz, he pleaded silently. Not our Jaz.
The sound of shattering glass filled the air as Jaz's body plummeted. She hit the ground with a sickening thud, shards of glass raining down around her like deadly confetti.
For a split second, neither man moved, the shock of what they'd witnessed paralyzing them. Then, as one, they surged forward.
McG reached Jaz first, his hands already moving to assess her injuries. "Jaz, can you hear me?" he called, noting her glazed eyes with growing concern.
Jaz's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. "I have to jump through the window," she mumbled, trying weakly to push herself up.
"Easy, Jaz. You've already jumped. We've got you," McG soothed, gently restraining her.
Amir stood guard, his gaze darting between the alley's entrance and Jaz's crumpled form. "We need to move," he hissed, the adrenaline making his voice sharp.
As they carefully lifted Jaz, she let out a pained gasp. "I'm sorry," she slurred, "I messed up my shot to Top."
"Shh, don't worry about that now," McG reassured her as they moved towards the van. His mind raced.Multiple lacerations, possible concussion, risk of internal bleeding. Need to stabilize her, stop the bleeding.
The Rescue
McG reached Jaz first, his hands already moving to assess her injuries. "Jaz, can you hear me?" he called, noting her glazed eyes with growing concern.
The Getaway
Inside the van, chaos erupted. Preach gunned the engine, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he navigated the streets of Tehran. Every bump and turn elicited a cry of pain from Jaz.
In the back, McG worked feverishly, applying pressure bandages to the worst of Jaz's wounds. Jaz, drifting in and out of consciousness, continued to mutter, "I have to protect my team... I have to go out the window..."
"You did, Jaz," McG replied, his voice strained as he worked. "You're hurt bad, but we have you. I'm going to take care of you."
Top hovered nearby, his face etched with guilt and concern. He reached out to hold Jaz's hand, but McG had to push him aside to access a wound.
"Top, I need space to work," McG said firmly. "Right now, all I need from you is to drink fluids and have willing veins when we get to the safehouse. That's when she's going to need you the most. Your guilt isn't going to help her at all."
Top nodded mutely, retreating to a corner of the van and starting to gulp down water.
Suddenly, Patricia's voice crackled through their comms. "McG, I need a status report."
McG's jaw clenched as he replied, "I'm doing all I can from the van. She's got glass embedded in several of the deeper lacerations. Multiple contusions, possible concussion, and I'm concerned about internal bleeding."
"Understood," Patricia's voice was tense. "I want up-to-the-minute reports, and I don't care who's giving them. Just keep her alive."
As the van sped through the night, Jaz's delirious pleas continued. "Please don't be late getting me... I'm going to be hurt bad..."
McG's heart clenched at her words. "We're not late, Jaz. We've got you. Just hang on."
Amir sat silently, his gaze alternating between the rear window and Jaz. Relief at her escape warred with horror at her condition. At least she's not in Iranian hands, he thought grimly. But at what cost?
Preach's voice drifted back from the driver's seat, tight with worry. "ETA to safehouse five minutes. How's our girl holding up?"
"She's fighting," McG replied, his hands never stopping their work. "But we need to get her stabilized soon."
As they approached the safehouse, the unspoken question hung heavy in the air: Had they truly rescued Jaz, or merely postponed a tragedy? The team's bond, tested by fire and blood, would face its greatest challenge yet in the hours to come.