The team scattered without a word, boots crunching on loose rock. Dust hit the back of his throat, gritty and metallic. The valley dropped away below them, black except for the faint orange glow ahead.
Ghost lifted two fingers. Torch and Rogue peeled off east, disappearing into low brush without a sound. Frost and Reaper went left, their silhouettes fading between scattered rocks. Years of working together meant Ghost didn't have to watch them go, he knew where they'd be.
The compound squatted against the hillside like something that had been there long before any of them were born. Cracked stone walls, patched metal roof, the whole thing looking like one good storm might flatten it. A weak light flickered through a warped doorway, barely enough to illuminate the dirt beneath it.
They moved in pairs, spreading out in a pattern Ghost could've drawn in his sleep. He took cover behind a boulder, the stone still warm from the day's heat, and lifted his NVGs. The world turned green and sharp-edged. Two guards stood at the entrance, rifles dangling at their sides, shoulders slouched. They weren't paying attention, which made them more dangerous, bored men did stupid things.
Ghost tapped his earpiece twice.
Rogue moved first, keeping low as he closed the distance. Torch circled from the opposite side. Ghost watched them work, breath moving slow through his lungs, counting the seconds in his head.
One—two—three. A heavy thud, a short grunt, then nothing.
Frost had already positioned himself along the west wall. Reaper watched the opposite side, rifle steady. Ghost pressed against the stone beside them, feeling the warmth seep through his gear. Movement caught his eye, another sentry, closer than Ghost liked.
He stepped in behind the man before the guard knew he wasn’t alone. The knife went in clean, and Ghost felt the body go heavy in his hands before he lowered it to the ground. He wiped the blade on his sleeve and moved back to the wall.
Across the compound, Carver's Rangers swept through their sector with hard-earned discipline. Ghost had worked with Carver enough to know the man ran a tight team.
A rifle lifted to the right. Brick's suppressed shot cracked softly, and the target dropped against the stone.
Ghost signaled again.
They pushed through the opening and the compound swallowed them. The temperature jumped immediately, heat trapped in narrow hallways, thick with the smell of old sweat, smoke, and something metallic that Ghost recognized as dried blood. He'd smelled it enough times to know it on instinct.
Something else layered beneath it. Cardamom, maybe sandalwood. The scent of whoever had lived here before tonight turned it into a battleground.
His NVGs turned the hallway green. The walls were rough, scarred from weather and bullets, twisting without any clear logic. Broken doors hung crooked. Glass crunched under his boots, sharp and unpredictable.
Predator led them forward, pausing every few steps to listen before moving on. Ghost watched the tension in his shoulders, awareness, not fear.
They cleared rooms in silence. Ghost moved with Brick at his flank, trusting Reaper to cover their six without looking back. Four rooms gave them nothing but empty space and shadows.
Lanterns hung overhead, most dark, a few barely flickering. The courtyard ahead looked hollow in their dim light, a dry basin in the center, cracked and forgotten, with brittle plant remains stirring in the breeze.
Footsteps echoed somewhere deeper in the compound.
Predator's fist went up. The team melted into doorways and broken walls.
Ghost tightened his grip on the rifle, breath moving slow through his teeth. Every doorway drew his eye, every shadow a potential threat. The air felt charged, raising the hair on his arms.
Static crackled in his ear.
"Found him," Echo's voice came through quiet. "Rear cell. Two hostiles."
Ghost and Predator moved together. Rogue fell in behind them, keeping low along the wall.
Voices drifted toward them, one man laughing, another tapping his rifle against metal bars in a lazy rhythm. Not paying attention.
Rogue glanced at Ghost, waiting for the call.
Ghost nodded once.
He pressed his back to the wall beside the doorway, stone cool against his shoulders despite his elevated body temperature. Rogue mirrored him on the opposite side. Through a gap in the warped wood, Ghost saw both guards standing close, relaxed.
He lifted his rifle and fired. Two suppressed rounds. The first man dropped, legs giving out. Rogue was already moving, blade finding its mark in one clean motion as he eased the second body down without letting it crash.
Then Ghost saw him.
