“No.” We all basically said it in unison. It wasn’t that we didn’t love Lauren. It wasn’t even that we didn’t think she could do it.
Every mission was dangerous. This one included.
Ethan nodded. “Agreed. Too risky. If she’s recognized, if anyone connects her to Citadel, we undo everything we’re trying to accomplish.”
“Telling her no meant maybe I’ll be lucky enough to not be sleeping on the couch by New Years,” Logan muttered.
“Of 2047,” Ty quipped.
A couple chuckles and eye rolls before everyone got serious again. I looked around at these men I’d bled with, fought beside, trusted with my life. We’d done a lot of hard things together. This mission was just as important.
Maybe more. Because it was personal.
“I appreciate you guys giving up some of your holiday to do this,” Logan said. “You didn’t have to and I owe you.”
“Are you kidding?” I grinned at him. “Miss the chance to repel out of a perfectly good helicopter, trek through a South American jungle, and possibly be shot on sight? Who would miss that?”
Andrew folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t owe us a thing, brother. We know you’d do this for any of us if we asked.”
“Wheels up in twelve hours,” Ethan said. “Finish any final prep and staging. We get in, do what we’ve committed to do and get out. Silently. We’re all back home by late Christmas day. Questions?”
“Just one,” Ty said. “Does anyone know where to get some Grinch themed lingerie? I think Charlotte would look amazing in fuzzy green?—”
Jace threw a pen at him.
“Dismissed.”
The team dispersed, but the energy lingered—focused, ready. I stayed in my seat for a moment, running through my sector in my head. Eight drop points. Narrow paths. Sleeping civilians who couldn’t know we were there. Cartel patrols who’d love an excuse to make the village pay.
The stakes were real. The danger was real.
But, as always, we were ready.
Chapter Two
Ben
The helicopter skimmed low over the jungle canopy, close enough that I could smell the wet green of the trees through the open door. Beside me, Jolly sat perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the darkness below. He knew what this was. He’d done it before.
The rest of the team was spread across the cabin—Ty and Jace on the opposite bench, Andrew at the controls, Logan and Ethan near the door. Nobody spoke. The rotors were too loud for easy conversation, but that wasn’t the real reason for the silence. This was the quiet before the work. The moment where you stopped being a person with a life and became a tool with a purpose.
Jolly’s nose twitched, cataloging scents even at altitude. I rested my hand on his back, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. Calm. Ready.
The LZ appeared below—a small clearing carved out of the jungle, barely visible in the moonlight. Andrew brought us down smooth, the skids kissing the ground with barely a bump. Wewere out before the rotors stopped spinning, fanning into the tree line with practiced efficiency.
The helicopter lifted off behind us, disappearing into the night. We wouldn’t see it again until extraction.
Ethan’s voice crackled in my earpiece. “Comms check.”
The team sounded off one by one. When it got to Ty, he added, “Cupid, live and still protesting this call sign.”
“Noted and ignored,” Ethan said. “Move out.”
The jungle closed around us like a fist.
I’d studied the terrain on maps, memorized the route, reviewed the satellite imagery until I could walk it blindfolded. But maps don’t capture the way the air sits heavy in your lungs, thick with moisture and the smell of rotting vegetation. They don’t tell you about the sounds—the constant hum of insects, the distant calls of night birds, the rustle of things moving through the undergrowth.
Jolly moved beside me, his footfalls silent on the jungle floor. His ears rotated constantly, tracking sounds I couldn’t hear. Every few seconds, his nose would lift, testing the air. He was a living early warning system, and I trusted him more than any piece of technology Jace could rig up.
