“Oh.”
Good damned thing it was dark—Titus couldn’t see the heat climbing Viper’s neck.
He pushed to his feet. “We can’t go back for the vehicles, so we head north. We’ll meet up with—” He patted his pockets.
Fuck.
His cell phone was still on the kitchen counter—right where he’d left it, distracted as hell. Now it was ash.
“Here.” Titus held out a burner.
Of course he did. Always prepared.
Viper squinted, clenched his jaw, and dialed Law.
“Hey Colonel,” Law answered on the first ring.
“How’d you know it was me?”
“Who the hell else would call me right now?” Law said dryly, sounding out of breath but alive.
“Fair enough. Memphis and I got separated.”
“Don’t worry,” Law cut in. “Memphis tried you first, then called me when you didn’t answer. He’s headed for the rendezvous point.”
Viper was glad Law hadn’t asked about his fucking phone.
“Everyone okay?” he asked, scanning the horizon, forcing a steady breath.
“Yeah, all good here.”
“Titus and I are right behind you,” Viper said. “Get to the rendezvous point outside Shoshone. We’ll head that way. Call Genesis and have them pick you up at first light.”
“Copy.”
The line went dead.
Shoshone was more than sixty miles from Pahrump—an easy drive, but a hell of a walk. Genesis would reach Law, Memphis, and the asset first, then come for him and Titus.
They just had to stay alive long enough for the cavalry to arrive.
Titus turned north without a word. Viper fell in beside him.
The fight behind them might’ve been over, but the war ahead wasn’t done—not by a long shot.
And until they linked back up with Genesis, the man beside him was his only backup.
He still wasn’t sure if that was a comfort… or a problem.
The desert outside Pahrump stretched flat and endless, a sheet of dark sand and shadows rolling toward the mountains.
They’d been on foot for miles, moving fast and quiet across the flats, keeping low through the scrub and dry washes. Too risky to take a vehicle—too easy to track.
Now the world was quiet. No headlights. No engines. Just wind and the faint hiss of grit against metal.
Too close once already. They’d been skirting the road, walking the sand flats a few hundred yards off the shoulder—close enough to hear engines, far enough to vanish if they had to.
A cartel truck crawled past, two men in the bed, rifles out. Titus could almost taste the diesel when it rolled by, the sound grinding low across the flats. He and Viper had gone still behind a rusted tank, waiting it out.
