“Hand off to Erebus in Arizona,” Viper said, tucking the sat phone cord back against the soldier’s vest. “Then he’s sending us elsewhere.”
Memphis gave a short laugh, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the cold. “Let’s rock and roll.”
Viper said nothing. He trusted Savage and his team, but middlemen always complicated clean work.
They cleared a low rise overlooking the old checkpoint station. The structure was corroded by rust—floodlight poles leaning like snapped spines, the roof torn open to the night.
His breath came out slow, silver in the cold air.
Behind them, the team waited—silent forms, disciplined shadows.
Viper scanned the horizon through NVGs, green static turning the world to grain. Nothing moved except a ripple of dust rolling low across the flats.
Still, his gut said it was too calm.
It was never this simple.
“Cold one,” Law murmured, voice low enough not to carry. He shifted, raising his NVGs for a sweep.
Memphis nodded in agreement.
Viper didn’t answer. The cold didn’t matter. The dark didn’t matter.
Only the mission.
He drew a slow breath; eyes locked on the checkpoint below—on the billow of dust rising.
“Is that them?” Memphis asked.
Viper tracked the dust—too fast, too soon.
“It can’t be,” he said. “An hour early.”
Law’s rifle rose a fraction. “Intel had a time.”
“It did. Zero-three-hundred.” Viper’s words were flat.
Law squinted. “So, who—”
Viper zoomed—too many bodies, wrong vehicle types. A prickled edge at his focus. He’d felt this before.
The team waited for his mark. He didn’t give one. Not yet.
“Hold.” Low. Hard on the comms.
They froze like coiled snakes.
Below, the convoy slowed at the checkpoint. Tarps dropped over vehicles, men spilled out, fanning into shadows.
Ambush. It didn’t matter.
Genesis lived in the shadows.
Viper’s mouth twitched. “Execute.”
They moved as one—precise, absolute.
Nothing and no one would stop them from retrieving the asset.
