His team’s laughter made him smile. They werepretty happy with the fact that he had a woman. It gave them something to rib him about. He didn’t give a shit.
Jug gave the SRF team the green light, and the training session started. But even as the team breached, part of his mind stayed with Riley.
The floodlights threw harsh white light across the plywood walls of the training village. The light cut the night into sharp edges of shadow and brilliance. Beyond the perimeter, the desert lay black and silent, the air cooling just enough to make the night bearable.
Talon glanced at his tactical readout on the monitors. 22:27. The SRF team was stacked at the breach point, their faces set, gear tight, weapons at the ready.
Over the comms, Jug’s voice was steady. “Team One, confirm comms check.”
The replies came back crisp.
Talon keyed his mic. “Copy. On my mark.” He gave the signal to Jug.
The breach charge cracked loud in the night, the shock echoing off the walls. Dust plumed into the air. The sharp explosion of spent powder mixed with the dry air and dust of the desert, obscuring theteam’s infiltration. They flowed through the breach, boots thudding against packed dirt.
“Left clear!”
“Right clear!”
“Moving!”
Wolf’s voice came in over the command channel from his overwatch position. “Stack spacing is clean. No muzzle sweeps. They’ve been listening.”
Talon’s eyes tracked the movement, his mind cataloging every detail. He nodded and almost to himself he admitted, “Much better than last week.”
Jug chuckled low. “That’s not a high bar, boss.”
Which got chuckles from the rest of the team because it was the absolute truth. The SRF team moved on to the second structure, executing a textbook peel to cover the open approach. Talon’s comms lit with their internal chatter.
“Contact front, engaging!”
“Push right!”
The rhythm was there now as they moved from corner to corner and room to room. Not perfect, but smoother.
Hammer’s voice came in from his position shadowing the middle of the stack. “They’re not tripping over themselves this time. I’m almost impressed.”
Talon allowed himself a faint grin. “Don’t get all huggy and feely on me, Hammer.”
The SRF team hit the third structure, and Talon’s attention sharpened. From past experiences with training scenarios, this was where discipline tended to fall apart.
Inside, the confined space echoed with the crack of simulated rounds. Wolf reported from above. “Rear guard is lagging. SRF Four just let his sector open.”
“Call it,” Talon said, his voice clipped as he shot a glance at Jug.
Jug keyed his mic. “Team One, rear, watch your corner!”
The correction snapped the formation back in place, the breach flowing again. A lull fell as the team moved into their final clear, the radio chatter easing into the steady sound of boots on dirt. Talon’s gaze swept the shadows beyond the floodlights.
And in that quiet second, his thoughts drifted back to Riley. Her voice on the phone had been easy, steady, the way she always played it. But he’d heard the weight beneath it. Just enough to keep him thinking.
Jug’s voice pulled him back. “Skipper, you drifting on me?”
Talon flipped him off. “No, I’m watching the field. Why are you watching me?”
“He got you there.” Stryker laughed. “But, man, they are improving.”
They were, and it was a damn good thing. Because soon they’d be dropped into the real world without enough reps, without the training engrained into their minds and muscles. As the team exited the last structure, Wolf’s voice came through. “Final room clear. Exercise complete. Time, twelve minutes, thirty-four seconds.”
