March bit hard out here on the southern edge of Arizona, right up against the Mexican border.
The desert wind came like a knife—dry, sharp, cutting through layers of gear and grit alike.
Viper moved through the dark with his strike team fanned behind him, boots silent in the sand. He’d chosen a small, exclusive unit for this mission—seven men, including himself.
But he didn’t movewiththem—he moved ahead of them.
Leadership wasn’t company. It was distance.
Law apparently didn’t see it that way and joined him a moment later—pace matched, silent, steady, unbothered.
Officers at his level didn’t usually work in the field, but Viper answered directly to the Secretary of Defense and led Genesis his own way—hands-on, boots down, not behind a desk.
The air was thin and restless, humming with static. Viper could taste it—dust, sage, and the faint metallic tang that always came before violence.
To the west, the fence line glinted under a slivered moon. The border looked quiet, but it never was. Nothing about this stretch of ground was clean.
Law’s rifle hung low, his posture easy but alert. Army once, now Genesis. Viper had pulled him in personally—hadn’t known him long, but Law was one of the few he trusted to hold a line without flinching. Steady as ever.
Former Special Forces, but he belonged here, with them. Law radiated calm—every motion deliberate, efficient, and quiet.
A soldier moved up on his left—one Viper trusted with his life.
Memphis Rivers. Major.
They weren’t blood brothers, but they might as well have been. They’d served on the same dark Special Forces unit before their paths split—different commands, different continents. Memphis had only just come back stateside after a string of international ops.
Memphis had been on the verge of retirement when the Secretary of Defense called. Genesis needed men who could move through fire and keep walking. Viper hadn’t hesitated—hell yeah.
A week in at Nightfall Drifters Ranch, and Memphis fit like he’d been there from day one.
Tall, muscled, inked. Dark shaggy hair, intense green eyes that caught everything. A hulk of a man with a lazy grin that never quite reached those eyes. Dangerous and sharp, but loyal to the bone. His voice—low, rough, commanding—could cut through chaos like a blade.
“Sir,” one of his men jogged up, holding a sat phone.
Only two people ever called on that line.
Viper took it, his glove brushing sand from the receiver before lifting it to his ear. “Sir?”
“Viper? It’s Will.” Secretary of Defense William Caldwell’s voice came through, steady and calm. “There’s been a change in plans.”
“Go ahead.” Viper stood still, eyes sweeping the horizon. Orders were orders—always subject to change in a heartbeat.
The desert air moved the dust around them, soft and restless.
“You’ll be handing the asset off to Erebus,” Will said. “Savage will send a few men. The location’s still in Arizona.” Viperfrowned, shifting his weight, his gaze narrowing toward the dark line of the border fence.
More and more lately, since Caldwell had taken over the President’s specialty teams, things were shifting. Not that Erebus couldn’t handle it—Savage ran a tight group—but Viper didn’t see the sense in passing off a job Genesis could finish themselves.
He said nothing. Just waited.
“You’ll get new orders once the drop’s made,” Will continued, voice still calm, though Viper could hear the strain underneath. The man was under pressure; Viper didn’t need to add to it.
“Yes, sir.”
The line went dead. Viper handed the phone back to his soldier.
Law stepped up beside him, his steps drowned by the wind. “What did he want?”
