They moved with precision.
Unloading crates.
Breaking open weapon cases.
Strapping on equipment.
Suppressors. Thermal optics.
Breaching charges.
Encrypted communication headsets.
Hardware banned in civilian law enforcement.
Weapons that had never seen daylight in the United States.
They loaded into armored vehicles without speaking.
No bravado. No noise.
Professional.
Deadly.
I didn’t wait for the stair platform to fully extend.
I opened the jet door.
Dropped directly onto the concrete runway.
Boots hit hard.
I straightened immediately and scanned my assembled force.
The California night air smelled like jet fuel and salt from the nearby ocean.
But beneath it —
There was something else.
Tension. Anticipation.
Violence waiting to be unleashed.
My men saw my face.
They understood.
This wasn’t business. This wasn’t negotiation.
This was punishment.
I walked toward the lead SUV and stopped.
My voice carried clearly through the quiet airstrip.
“Targets are confirmed.”
