With a loud bang, Owen kicked open the door, but he didn't charge in immediately. The fight had been going on for a while, and the element of surprise was long gone.
As expected, the blast of a shotgun echoed from inside, pellets tearing into the wall across the hallway. Ela seized the opening created by the enemy's shot and popped out from cover—her SCAR rifle flashed with fire as a precise burst tore into the shooter's chest.
Owen quickly joined in from the opposite side, delivering another burst. The man inside took a second hit—dead for sure. Owen rushed into the room and kicked the shotgun aside without firing again. The man's chest had a hole the size of a pencil where the bullet had entered, but the exit wound on his back was the size of a bowl.
As Owen turned to leave, something caught his eye—a hole blown into the wall during the exchange. The wooden paneling had shattered, revealing something behind it. Owen stepped closer, and his face instantly contorted.
A wave of putrid stench hit him hard.
"What is it?" Ela called from outside the door. When she saw Owen crouched near the bullet hole, she came to check—only to flee in horror, gagging and vomiting outside.
Truth be told, Owen barely kept himself from doing the same. What he had seen in the space between the walls was a human corpse, tightly wrapped in layers of plastic wrap. The body was blackened, desiccated—God only knew how long it had been there.
Now he realized that odd smell when they'd first entered wasn't mildew—it was the stench of death.
Elsewhere on the first floor, Ghost and Bayev had quickly cleared the remaining rooms.
"First floor clear. No sight of the target," Ghost reported over the comms.
Almost simultaneously, Shepherd's voice came through: "Second floor clear. Hostage secured, no sign of the target."
Then came the cursing—both Holt and Ghost letting loose over the radio. They had also discovered corpses hidden inside the walls. Identical to the one Owen had found. As more walls were broken open, the powerful stench of rotting flesh filled the rooms, making it nearly impossible to stay inside.
"Where's Guzmán? Where's the man in this photo?" Shepherd demanded upstairs, holding up a picture for the terrified hostage.
The man was ghost-pale, shaking violently. He had seen the bodies hidden in the walls too—and realized he might have shared their fate had no one come to rescue him.
"Tell me where he is! Or do you want to be next? I'll wrap you in plastic myself," Holt barked. The hostage panicked and hastily pointed toward a single bed nearby. "Th-there… under there!"
Phantom Squad closed in around the bed with weapons raised. Carefully, they lifted it—and found a trapdoor leading to a tunnel beneath the house, its direction pointing toward the kitchen downstairs.
"Shit! There's a tunnel—Guzmán escaped through it!" came the call over the comms.
Back downstairs, Owen—who had just fought off a wave of nausea—located the tunnel entrance in the kitchen. He glared down at the dark passage with frustration.
Everything inside the house was being streamed to everyone outside. The snipers and DEU officers immediately began scanning the surrounding area.
The gunfight and armored vehicles hadn't even scared off the locals. A large crowd had gathered outside, encircling the house. None of them seemed concerned about stray bullets. Had it not been for the mounted machine guns pointed their way, they might have gotten even closer.
The DEU agents were on high alert. They didn't know how many cartel members might be hiding among the crowd. If they made a move…
All the machine guns were loaded and trained subtly on the crowd—ready to fire at the first sign of trouble.
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out. One man collapsed.
"Got him. Guzmán was hiding in the crowd," Fred's voice crackled through the radio.
Like dropping water into hot oil, chaos erupted. Phantom and Omega immediately rushed out of the building, weapons raised, converging on the fallen man. The other two snipers re-aimed their sights, covering the area around Guzmán.
Tension skyrocketed. Guzmán lay on the ground, writhing in pain. Fred had shot him in the leg, and now a circle of space opened around him as bystanders backed away.
Two DEU officers cautiously approached, handcuffed him, and dragged him upright. Everyone—Omega, Phantom, the snipers, and the rest of the DEU—was on edge, bracing for an ambush.
Luckily, no one made a move. Guzmán struggled and cursed loudly in Spanish, but the DEU officers ignored him and hauled him back toward the vehicles.
Suddenly, during the scuffle, Guzmán yanked down one of the DEU officer's face masks, exposing his full face to the crowd.
The officer panicked and quickly pulled the mask back up. Enraged, he smashed the butt of his rifle into Guzmán's face, leaving him bloodied and dazed. They dragged him away without further resistance.
With Guzmán in custody, the convoy roared to life and fled the scene. This was cartel territory, and the operation had relied on speed: entering Mexico, only informing the DEU of the mission at the last moment, attacking before the cartel had time to react. But now they would react—and from here on, it was a race against time to reach the U.S. border.
The convoy sped along the quickest available route. Over the radios, Spanish voices argued back and forth. No one in Omega understood, so Ela explained: "That officer whose face was exposed—he's terrified. He knows his identity has been compromised. He's worried for himself and his family."
Everyone fell silent. They sympathized deeply with the man—but there was nothing they could do. They could only hope his exposure was too brief for anyone to remember his face. Maybe getting him and his family to the U.S. would help—but that wasn't their call to make.
"Fuck!!" Ela suddenly punched the steering wheel in frustration. The sudden noise startled the cabin into silence.
Behind them, Guzmán burst into laughter. "He's dead. No one can save him. Not even you Americans…"
He sounded smug, cocky, convinced that revenge was inevitable.
Owen didn't even need to signal. Bayev's massive fist swung around and slammed into Guzmán's face.
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