Chapter 1: The Banshee Rescue Op
John's POV
"Wheels down in ETA fifteen minutes," announced the pilot.
John looked across at his team and couldn't help but wonder if that was what he looked like. They usually wore that expression whenever a mission got fucked.
As a long-standing search-and-rescue squad, this wasn't their first—or even third—rodeo, but this one was particularly annoying. It usually started the same way: a child—usually an only child—of some important douchebag decided to sneak out. How they managed it with all that security still baffled him. They'd leave the safety of their parents' mansions to experience life as a peasant. Sometimes they succeeded, realized it wasn't for them, and ran straight back to daddy's money. Other times, they got kidnapped, and John's team had to extract them from hostage situations that could've been avoided if these rich kids used their brains.
He wasn't complaining. Okay, maybe a little. But sometimes he wanted to do something that actually mattered—rescuing a compromised spy, stealing foreign tech—anything but babysitting idiots with trust funds. But that was beside the point.
The mission had started great. They interrogated traffickers, tracked her location, breached the building, and killed everyone inside. Clean and efficient. Perfect.
Then she saw the corpse of one of her captors and started screeching like a banshee because apparently "she loved him, and they just wanted the money."
Did he forget to mention they were smack dab in the middle of a cartel-controlled town?
Things went downhill fast. They barely escaped with their lives, and if the cartel could shoot worth a damn, they'd all be dead.
John dreaded the debrief. He'd have to explain why he knocked out a senator's daughter. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he'd take the heat. Honestly, it was necessary—even if he hit her a little harder than intended. Better him than one of his team.
After landing, he watched enviously as the others headed to shower and eat while he had a date with the Major.
He knocked twice and entered after hearing, "Get your ass in here, Smith."
To his surprise, his CO didn't look as pissed as expected—though that might just be his face.
"So," Major Mattias said, staring straight through him, "you smacked a senator's daughter. Anything to say for yourself?"
"It was for the good of the mission, sir."
"You're lucky the senator didn't have you kicked out of the squad."
"Well… I am the captain, sir."
"Get out of my office and tell your team to prepare for wheels up in twenty-four hours."
"So soon?" John blurted.
If looks could kill, the Major would be in prison.
"Yes, sir."
"Dismissed."
John didn't waste a second leaving. He knew this was the Major's way of shielding them from the fallout. With a sigh, he headed to the barracks.
Tobias's POV
Tobias knew he'd been staring at Amanda too long when Doug hip-checked him in the ribs.
He couldn't help it. She was one hell of a specimen.
She pretended she didn't like the song, but Tobias knew better. He'd studied her like a university course. That was why he kept the tradition alive—because he knew she liked it.
The others thought he was just horny because she was the only woman on the squad. That couldn't be further from the truth. He'd fallen for her the first time he saw her and had been carrying that flame for years. He never made a move—rejection would break him, and worse, it would fracture the squad.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Pretty Boy step in.
And there it was—that sharp pang of jealousy every man felt around John. The kind that made you want to hide your daughters and sisters, even if you didn't have any. Tobias watched Amanda's eyes drift to him, saw the way she smiled when she confirmed he was okay. Hard to tell with John, but she always knew.
The realization hit him like a bag of bricks to the balls.
That was why he never told her how he felt. He couldn't survive hearing she loved John.
To outsiders, Tobias was fearless. Mostly, he was. But Amanda was his kryptonite.
Douglas's POV
There Toby was, staring at Amanda—not Amy, Amanda—with that Gollum-esque my precious vibe. She really should put the guy out of his misery already. I literally had to hit him just to jolt him out of what was probably the most nauseatingly romantic fantasy imaginable, starring the two of them.
I didn't have much ground to judge. My dating life wasn't exactly something to write home about. My last ex tried to kidnap me and lynch me so she could make a life-sized doll of me after I broke up with her. And believe it or not, I've got more stories like that. No matter how normal they seem at first, it always goes sideways. It's happened enough times that I know I'm the problem, so I'm taking a break from dating—preferably forever.
Yandere types are only fun in fiction. In real life? Fucking terrifying.
I looked up just in time to see Toby practically snarling at John. Honestly, I couldn't blame him. John brought that feeling out in everyone.
Gustav's POV
What was with everyone and dating? It was totally overrated, and he honestly preferred his girls in 2D instead. They could never betray you and were far less demanding—requiring about as much commitment as a cactus plant.
He was decent-looking, so it wasn't like he couldn't pull. He just didn't have the strength to maintain a relationship. The thrill of the chase was the only interesting part anyway; the relationship part of real relationships did absolutely nothing for him. So sue him.
The music in the background began to fade as the others started heading for the cafeteria.
"Wait for me, you traitors!" he yelled.
Amanda's POV
Music blasted from the barracks before John even opened the door.
Cinderella's Dead.
They couldn't even wait for him.
Amanda bit back a smile as everyone but her sang and danced at full volume. Anyone else walking in would've been confused, but this had been tradition since their first mission together. It started as mockery. Now, it was just fun.
Doug had spilled her secret years ago—that Cinderella's Dead was her favorite song—and she'd never forgiven him for it. At first, she pretended to hate it. Eventually, she just learned how to hide her reaction.
When John walked in, she noticed the brief irritation on his face before it vanished. Golden retriever energy, as Doug liked to say. He didn't look rattled, so the debrief probably wasn't awful—but with John, you could never be sure. His poker face was lethal.
She smiled as the guys sang along to what they called an "emo chick song," a label they loved pinning on her. They were half naked, loud, ridiculous—and hers.
She'd ask John about the Major later.
For now, she let the music play.