The Sinclair Protocol – My Delivery Girl is a Private Military Queen
By Lea von Löwenstein
Chapter 7: Ready and Action
Part 1: Command and Control
Private Jet Over Contested Airspace
Liv adjusted her tactical gear with practiced efficiency, every movement precise despite the pleasant ache from the last two hours. Sebastian watched from his seat, his aristocratic features settled into new appreciation as she transformed back into combat commander.
“James,” her voice was pure steel now as she activated the secure comm. “Status update and patch me through to field commanders. Both convoy and strike team.”
“Yes, ma’am.” A brief pause. “Connecting now.”
The jet’s advanced communications suite came alive with encrypted channels. “Strike Leader actual, online.”
“Convoy Commander reporting.”
“This is Sinclair,” Liv’s tone held natural authority as she studied the tactical displays. “Give me positions and situation assessment.”
“Convoy holding in defensive formation at Junction 7,” the first commander reported. “Hostiles probing our perimeter but maintaining distance. They’re good – professional. Testing for weaknesses without fully committing.”
“Strike Team has them contained,” the second voice added. “But their ECM suite is causing complications. Every time we think we have a clear shot at their command structure, they shift frequencies and positions.”
Sebastian moved closer, his strategic mind already analyzing the tactical feeds. Liv’s smile turned dangerous as she noted his interest.
“Keep them engaged but preserve your resources,” she commanded. “I want them tired but not desperate when we arrive. Clear?”
“Crystal, ma’am.”
“And gentlemen?” Her voice carried lethal promise. “No one breaks through that perimeter. Whatever they want in that convoy stays protected. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am!”
“Ma’am,” the Convoy Commander’s voice crackled with barely contained shock. “With all due respect, you can’t seriously be planning to-“
“I’ll be on ground in five,” Liv cut him off, her tone brooking no argument. “We’ll end this today.”
“Ms. Sinclair,” Strike Leader’s voice held urgent concern. “These aren’t typical mercenaries. Their tactics, their tech – this is top-tier spec ops. We should wait for full tactical support-“
“Should we?” Her smile turned dangerous as she checked her equipment. “Tell me, Commander, in five years of running Sinclair Security operations, how many contracts have we lost?”
Silence filled the encrypted channel.
“That’s right. Zero. And do you know why?”
“Ma’am-“
“Because when someone tests our defenses,” she continued, voice pure silk over steel, “I make sure they never try again. Now, do either of you want to keep questioning my tactical decisions?”
Sebastian watched with growing fascination as both hardened combat veterans fell silent.
“Good,” Liv’s voice held lethal promise. “Five minutes. Have your teams ready. We’re ending this my way.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they responded in unison, though their voices still carried clear concern.
“Oh, and gentlemen?” Her smile was audible through the comm. “Try to remember – the delivery girl you’re so worried about? She’s the one who trained half your teams.”
“Five minutes,” Liv’s voice carried pure command through the encrypted channel. “And gentlemen? Remember – I built this security division while everyone thought I was just a delivery girl. Imagine what I can do now that I’m done playing small.”
The commanders’ reluctant acknowledgment crackled through the comm as she ended transmission. Sebastian watched her with new calculation, his strategic mind connecting pieces.
“You know,” he mused, moving closer, “most heiresses don’t spend their time mastering close-quarter combat and building secret security empires.”
“Most heiresses,” Liv’s smile turned dangerous as she checked her tactical gear, “don’t spend five years pretending to be invisible while building someone else’s reputation. But then again, I’ve never been particularly good at following expectations.”
Through the jet’s window, they could see their target zone approaching. The Yto Gonzaga was long packed away, replaced by equipment that spoke of years of specialized training.
“Besides,” she continued, her eyes dancing with lethal amusement, “after watching Marcus take credit for my work for five years, did you really think the security division was the only empire I was building from the shadows?”
Sebastian’s aristocratic features settled into something predatory. “You’re rather magnificent when you stop pretending to be small.”
“Oh darling,” she checked her secure comm one last time, “you haven’t seen magnificent yet. Shall we show these attackers exactly why testing my defenses is always their last mistake?”
“About that,” Sebastian’s aristocratic features settled into concern as he watched Liv check her tactical gear. “While I find your combat commander persona rather compelling, you’re talking about dropping directly into an active firefight. Even with your training-“
“Worried about me, darling?” Her smile held dangerous amusement as she adjusted her parachute harness.
“Considering I just married you a few hours ago? Perhaps.” He moved closer, his voice dropping. “And you still haven’t explained how exactly you plan to-“
“HALO jump,” she interrupted, checking her oxygen mask. “High Altitude Low Opening. We’ll drop from 30,000 feet, free fall until we’re right above the target zone, then deploy at the last possible moment.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What?” She verified her tactical display coordinates. “Did you think we’d land the jet and drive there? That would take hours. Besides,” her eyes danced with lethal pleasure, “there’s nothing quite like dropping out of the sky to remind people why testing my defenses is always their last mistake.”
Through the jet’s window, the combat zone was barely visible far below, tiny flashes indicating ongoing firefights.
“You’re actually going to skydive into an active combat situation?” His voice held equal parts concern and admiration.
“Oh darling,” she moved toward the jet’s emergency exit, her smile pure predator, “how do you think I handled the more… interesting deliveries during those five years? Care to join me? Or would you prefer to take the long way round?”
Part 2: The Skydive into Hell
The jet’s emergency door opened with a rush of frigid air. Liv stood at the threshold, tactical gear secured, oxygen mask in place. The combat zone below looked like a distant chess board, occasional flashes marking ongoing firefights.
“Last chance, darling,” she turned to Sebastian, voice slightly muffled through the mask. “Care to make a dramatic entrance?”
“You know,” his aristocratic features held wry amusement as he secured his own gear, “most men get to enjoy their wedding day without skydiving into a firefight.”
“Boring,” she checked his equipment with practiced efficiency. “Besides, you married the woman who built an empire while everyone thought she was just a delivery girl. Did you really expect anything less?”
Through their tactical comms, James’s voice crackled. “Ma’am, hostiles are concentrating their force on the eastern perimeter. They’re preparing for something big.”
“Perfect timing then,” Liv’s smile was audible even through the mask. “Sebastian, remember – free fall until 2,000 feet, then deploy. And darling?”
“Yes?”
“Try to keep up.”
With that, she stepped backward into empty air, disappearing into the steel-blue sky. Sebastian watched her form become smaller, a perfect arrow cutting through space.
“Well,” he muttered, adjusting his own mask, “at least married life won’t be boring.”
Then he followed his wife into the void, plunging toward the battle that waited below.
The world became pure adrenaline and precision as they plummeted through steel-blue sky. Liv’s form cut through the air ahead of Sebastian, her movements speaking of countless similar drops.
The tactical display in their masks showed their descent path, marking the combat zone far below where flashes of gunfire painted a deadly chess game.
“Status,” Liv’s voice came clear through their secure comms, completely steady despite their free fall.
“Hostiles still concentrating on eastern perimeter,” James reported. “Strike Team holding position but their ECM suite is causing havoc with our targeting systems.”
“Altitude twenty thousand,” Sebastian called out, his aristocratic composure perfect even while plunging toward earth at terminal velocity. “You do this often during those delivery runs?”
Liv’s laugh was pure adrenaline. “Oh darling, you have no idea what I was really delivering during those five years.”
They cut through a cloud layer, the moisture briefly obscuring their vision before they emerged into crystal clarity.
“Fifteen thousand,” Liv announced. “Starting tactical approach vector.”
She adjusted her position with practiced grace, angling toward their target zone. Sebastian matched her movements, finding himself impressed yet again by the lethal competence hidden beneath her society heiress facade.
“Ten thousand,” he called out. “Combat zone coming into focus.”
Below them, the chess game of war grew larger with each passing second.
“Two thousand feet,” Sebastian called out, watching Liv’s form slice through the air ahead of him with lethal grace.
“Deploying in three…” Her voice remained perfectly steady. “Two… One…”
Their chutes snapped open, but Liv was already transitioning into her attack position. In a move that spoke of countless combat drops, she drew her modified tactical weapons while still suspended in air.
“Eastern perimeter breach!” James’s voice crackled. “They’re making their-“
The rest of his warning was drowned out by the precise staccato of Liv’s fire. From above, she had perfect sight lines on the hostile team’s formation. Her shots rang out with surgical precision, each one finding its mark as she descended like an avenging angel.
“Six targets neutralized,” she reported calmly, still picking off hostiles. “Non-lethal takedowns confirmed.”
Sebastian watched in awe as half the attacking force went down before she even touched ground. Her spiral descent turned into a combat drop as she released her chute at the perfect moment, landing directly in the midst of the remaining operators who were still trying to process their teammates’ sudden incapacitation.
“Gentlemen, I believe you’re testing my defenses.” her voice carried pure silk over steel as she emerged from her landing roll, weapons already tracking new targets. “Perhaps we should discuss why testing my defenses is always a terrible idea.”
The remaining hostiles turned to face her, only to find themselves confronting the woman who’d controlled Sinclair Security from the shadows – and she was done playing small.
The first hostile barely had time to turn before she was moving, her close-quarter combat training transforming the delivery girl into a deadly blur of precise strikes and tactical positioning.
Sebastian landed moments later, just in time to see his new wife demonstrate exactly why Sinclair Security had never lost a contract.
The acrid smell of cordite mixed with morning dew as Liv moved through the remaining hostile operators like a lethal dance. Her boots crushed wet grass, each step precise and measured despite the chaos around them.
The first attacker lunged with a combat knife – the whisper of steel cutting air. Liv pivoted, the movement fluid as mercury. The crack of impact echoed as her elbow connected with his solar plexus, followed by the wet thud of his body hitting damp earth. The metallic tang of blood mixed with the sharp scent of fear sweat.
“Three o’clock!” Sebastian’s voice carried over the symphony of combat.
Liv spun, her tactical gear whispering against itself. Two hostiles, moving in tandem. The rhythmic thunder of their boots on wet ground betrayed their approach. She could taste the ozone from their ECM equipment, smell the gun oil on their weapons.
Her first strike shattered the morning air – a precise blow that sent vibrations up her arm as cartilage gave way beneath her knuckles. The second hostile’s grunt of pain turned into a gasping wheeze as she redirected his momentum, the solid thump of his impact adding another note to the battle’s percussion.
“Clear your six!”
She dropped and rolled, feeling the displacement of air as a combat baton whisked past where her head had been. The earth was cold and damp against her tactical gear as she came up firing. The sharp crack of her weapon mixed with the meaty impact of non-lethal rounds finding their marks.
“Status?” Sebastian’s voice carried aristocratic amusement as he secured his own targets.
“Five remaining,” Liv’s smile was audible through her controlled breathing. “Would you like to help, darling? Or are you enjoying the show?”
The thunder of approaching boots announced the arrival of the remaining strike teams, their tactical gear cutting dark silhouettes through the morning mist. Sebastian’s aristocratic features settled into something predatory as he moved to engage.
“Darling,” Liv called out between precise strikes, “shall we show them why the Blackwood combat training is legendary?”
The wet grass whispered beneath their feet as Sebastian flowed into action with the same lethal grace he’d shown in the manor’s training rooms. His movements spoke of years of specialized combat instruction – each strike a perfect blend of aristocratic precision and brutal efficiency.
The sharp crack of impact mixed with grunts of pain as he systematically dismantled the first team’s formation. The morning air carried the metallic tang of blood and the acrid smell of discharged weapons as he moved through their ranks like a deadly dance.
“Eight hostiles,” he reported calmly, the solid thud of another body hitting damp earth punctuating his count. “Though I must admit, their form is rather sloppy compared to the Blackwood combat trials.”
A hostile’s knife cut through air with a whispered threat. Sebastian pivoted, redirecting the blade with a move that sent vibrations up his arm as he turned the attack into a takedown. The wet impact of the operator hitting ground added another note to the battle’s symphony.
“Four remaining,” his voice held dangerous amusement. “Unless you’d like to claim those too, darling?”
Liv’s laugh carried pure lethal pleasure as she engaged her own targets. “Oh no, by all means. Show me what else they taught you in those private combat sessions.”
The morning mist swirled around them as Sebastian proved exactly why the Blackwood dynasty’s combat training was as feared as their financial power.
Part 3: Tactical Powershifts
The morning mist parted as more dark figures emerged through the tree line. The sharp crack of weapons fire mixed with the heavy thud of boots on wet earth as the situation shifted dramatically.
“James,” Liv’s voice carried controlled urgency through the comms. “Status on reinforcements?”
“Ten minutes out, ma’am. They’ve jammed our close-range communications. Strike Team can’t coordinate with Convoy Defense.”
Sebastian moved closer to Liv’s position, his aristocratic features set in tactical assessment as they found themselves surrounded. The air was thick with cordite and the metallic tang of blood, punctuated by the whisper of tactical gear as more hostiles took position.
“Darling,” Liv’s smile turned dangerous as she counted the emerging threats, “I believe we might need to make a strategic withdrawal.”
“Married three hours and already retreating?” His laugh held dark amusement even as he shifted to cover her six. “What would the Blackwood combat instructors say?”
“That survival,” she dropped two more hostiles with precise shots, feeling the impact vibrations through her modified weapon, “is sometimes more important than pride.”
The morning air carried the complex scent of combat and wet earth as they began their coordinated fallback. Each step was measured, each shot calculated, as they moved like a deadly dance partnership through the chaos.
“Besides,” Liv’s voice held lethal promise as they reached better cover, “sometimes you have to let them think they’re winning before you show them exactly why testing your defenses was their last mistake.”
The morning mist parted as more dark figures emerged through the tree line. The sharp crack of weapons fire mixed with the heavy thud of boots on wet earth as the situation shifted dramatically.
“James,” Liv’s voice carried controlled urgency through the comms. “Status on reinforcements?”
“Ten minutes out, ma’am. They’ve jammed our close-range communications. Strike Team can’t coordinate with Convoy Defense.”
Sebastian moved closer to Liv’s position, his aristocratic features set in tactical assessment as they found themselves surrounded. The air was thick with cordite and the metallic tang of blood, punctuated by the whisper of tactical gear as more hostiles took position.
“Darling,” Liv’s smile turned dangerous as she counted the emerging threats, “I believe we might need to make a strategic withdrawal.”
“Married three hours and already retreating?” His laugh held dark amusement even as he shifted to cover her six. “What would the Blackwood combat instructors say?”
“That survival,” she dropped two more hostiles with precise shots, feeling the impact vibrations through her modified weapon, “is sometimes more important than pride.”
The morning air carried the complex scent of combat and wet earth as they began their coordinated fallback. Each step was measured, each shot calculated, as they moved like a deadly dance partnership through the chaos.
“Besides,” Liv’s voice held lethal promise as they reached better cover, “sometimes you have to let them think they’re winning before you show them exactly why testing your defenses was their last mistake.”
“Run.” Sebastian’s voice cut through the chaos with aristocratic command as another wave of hostiles emerged through the morning mist.
Liv’s tactical assessment took milliseconds. The wet earth beneath their boots, the whisper of enemy movement from three directions, the metallic tang of blood mixing with cordite – all spoke of a rapidly deteriorating situation.
“Northwest channel,” she commanded, already moving. “Through the tree line. Now.”
They broke into coordinated movement, years of specialized training evident in every step. The sharp crack of covering fire mixed with the thunder of pursuit as they executed their tactical withdrawal.
“James,” Liv’s voice remained controlled despite their pace. “Status on that ECM suite?”
“Still blocking local comms, ma’am. Strike Team and Convoy can’t coordinate. Hostiles are using our own defensive positions against us.”
The damp morning air burned in their lungs as they moved through the forest, each step calculated despite their speed. Sebastian matched her pace perfectly, his aristocratic training showing in the efficiency of his movement.
“Darling,” his breath was barely affected by their sprint, “please tell me this is part of some brilliant strategy and not just us running from a fight.”
“Oh?” Her laugh held dangerous promise even as she tracked multiple pursuit teams through the trees. “Would you prefer we stay and let them spring their trap? Or would you rather help me lead them into ours?”
The forest whispered around them as they ran, but Liv’s smile held pure predator. Sometimes, the best way to win wasn’t to stand and fight – it was to make your enemy follow you exactly where you wanted them.
The wet earth ended abruptly at a sheer rock face, morning mist swirling around its impassable surface. The sharp crack of pursuit grew closer, boots thundering through the underbrush behind them.
“Dead end,” Sebastian’s aristocratic features settled into tactical assessment. “Unless this was part of your brilliant strategy?”
“Actually,” Liv’s smile turned lethal as she checked her tactical display, “it’s exactly where we need to be.”
The forest whispered with enemy movement as hostile teams emerged from three directions, their tactical gear cutting dark shapes through the morning fog. The acrid smell of cordite mixed with wet earth as weapons were raised.
“Surrender,” their leader’s voice carried professional confidence. “You’re completely surrounded.”
“Am I?” Liv’s laugh held pure predator as she activated her secure comm. “Raj? Status?”
“All targets acquired, ma’am.” His voice crackled through their earpieces. “Waiting for your signal.”
The hostile commander’s expression shifted as understanding dawned too late. The morning air carried the complex bouquet of combat – cordite, sweat, and the sweet decay of wet leaves – as Liv’s carefully positioned teams revealed themselves.
“You see,” she addressed the suddenly wary hostiles, “sometimes the best way to win isn’t to avoid the trap.” Her smile turned dangerous. “It’s to make them think they’re springing theirs while walking right into yours.”
The forest erupted in precise violence as her teams executed their takedowns with surgical efficiency. Each impact added its note to the deadly symphony as the hunters became the hunted.
“Now then,” Liv turned to Sebastian as her forces secured the area, “shall we discuss why testing Sinclair Security is always their last mistake?”
