“What?” Emma clings tighter.
“Now!”
And then we jump.
The air whooshes past, my stomach lurching as we drop. Emma screams against my shoulder, and Ella’s small fingers dig into my wrist. The lake rushes toward us, dark and endless.
Please let it be deep enough. Please.
We hit the water with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs.
The world becomes cold. Sound vanishes. For a moment, there is only darkness and pressure, the weight of Emma against my chest, Ella’s hand slipping from mine.
The cold slams into us like a fist. The lake swallows us whole.
Darkness closes in, and the last thing I hear is Jason’s furious roar as the water drags us under.
CHAPTER 25
DAMON
We’re standingin the center of a dimly lit operations tent, the scent of coffee and gun oil thick in the air. The place is exactly as I remember, with military precision in every corner. Stacks of gear line the walls, comms equipment buzz low, a faint hum of conversation of soldiers and instructors pass through.
Outside, beyond the canvas walls, the training grounds sprawl wide. There are acres of dense forest, open fields pockmarked with obstacles, the faint pop of distant live-fire drills cutting through the cool morning air. This facility had been built for one thing—creating ghosts. Men who could slip into enemy territory unnoticed, strike hard, and disappear faster.
I shake Frank Pyzck’s hand, his grip still iron-hard despite the years. He hasn’t changed much—still broad as a damn wall, his beard streaked with more gray but his eyes just as sharp.
“Still kicking, huh, old man?” I say.
Frank snorts. “Figured I’d let you young idiots have a turn at saving the world. But you keep dragging me back in.” He turns to Zane, giving him a long look. “You again? Yemen, right? What’s it been, two years?”
Zane nods. “Last time, you saved my ass. I still owe you a drink.”
“Damn right you do.” Frank turns to Asher, sizing him up like he’s assessing a new recruit. “You the brains, the bruiser, or the wildcard?”
Asher smirks. “Depends on the day.”
Frank chuckles. “Figures.”
He unrolls a detailed topographical map on the table, pinning it down with his combat knife.
“These are our active training zones,” he says, tapping three marked sections with his finger. “Got squads running endurance ops here, here, and here. But we’ve noticed unusual movement over in this sector.”
I lean in, following his finger as he circles a remote area near the lake.
Frank continues, “Supply runs at odd hours. Vehicles coming and going in tight patterns. Guard rotations that don’t match our training schedules. At first, we thought it was poachers or some off-grid nutjobs. But now?”
Asher and I exchange a glance.
“You think something is happening there?” Zane asks.
“Someone’s setting up shop. Real quiet-like.”
My gut tightens.Jason.
I catch the look on Zane and Asher. They’re thinking the same thing.
Zane scans the map. “Everything else around here is either active training ground or uninhabitable terrain. But this spot? This is strategic. Water access. Natural cover. Far enough from main roads to make searching a nightmare.”
