They Laughed When the Kung Fu Master Knocked the Female Soldier Down—But Seconds Later, She Did the UNTHINKABLE!

Mara and Naomi reached Ortega's barracks in twenty minutes. The door to his room stood open. His boots were under the bed, a half-eaten sandwich sat on the desk, and his duffel was gone.

“Looks like he packed,” Naomi said.

“He would've taken his lucky patch,” Mara replied, pointing to a worn insignia pinned above the mirror. Ortega had worn it since basic training. He never left it behind.

A paper airplane sat on his pillow. Mara unfolded it. Written inside was a storage-unit number and a single sentence: MY CAMERA ISN'T MY ONLY COPY.

They found the storage unit beside an old airfield. Ortega sat inside on a folding chair, clutching his phone as though it were a life vest.

“I heard the men talking,” he explained. “They were coming for the video. I left through the laundry exit.”

Mara sat in front of him. “You're safe right now.”

“No offense, Sergeant, but everyone who helps you seems to get chased.”

“Fair point.”

Ortega handed over two memory cards. One contained the complete demonstration. The other contained a private conversation accidentally captured as he'd tested his camera before the event.

Rourke's voice came through clearly: “If she hits him after he's down, we can destroy her. If she refuses to fight, she's a coward. Either way, she's finished.”

Sloane answered, “Make it clean. We cannot afford another Bennett asking questions.”

The room went quiet.

“That's him,” Mara whispered. “That's the colonel.”

They transferred the files to Reed while Ortega watched the door. Then a third voice emerged near the end of the recording. It was a woman, low and sharp.

“Don't overcomplicate this, Colonel. Bring Daniel to the annex tonight and complete the transfer.”

Naomi stiffened. “I know that voice.”