Coronado, 0615 Hours
Ghost and his team landed just before sunrise. The sky was only beginning to split gold across the horizon, painting the Pacific in molten light. On any other day, Ghost might’ve noticed. Might’ve let the calm settle in. Not today, the beauty of it felt like a goddamn lie.
The wheels hadn’t even cooled when he stepped off the bird, his boots hitting tarmac like a man already halfway gone. The secure device tucked in his chest rig powered down with a flick of his wrist. He didn’t glance at it again.
He moved through the motions, standard debrief, ops summary, gear check, but none of it landed. The words hit his ears like molasses. It was muffled, distant, because something felt off. Had been since the moment they’d lifted off. A weight he couldn’t shake. Like something was unraveling just out of reach.
As soon as command dismissed them, the team peeled off, Predator cracking a joke, Torch calling dibs on the first cold beer, Echo tossing his pack into the back of a truck.
He walked off without a word, never once looking back. He crossed the lot alone and climbed into his truck, the scent of jet fuel still clinging to his clothes. The early morning air cut clean across his face as he sat there for a beat, hands on the wheel, mind already a hundred miles away.
Then he powered on his phone. It lit up with a dozen missed messages, operational pings, mission syncs, spam, noise, but only one mattered. Missed call. 1:56 AM. Rachel.
His thumb hovered for half a second, then he hit play. Her voice cracked through the speaker, soft and shaking.
“Logan… I don’t know if you’re back yet. I don’t even know if you’ll get this in time.”
His entire body went rigid. Frozen. He recognized this stillness, it came right before he squeezed a trigger.
“There are men in my apartment.” He stopped breathing. His grip on the phone went white-knuckled. Blood roared in his ears.
“I—I saw them outside first. Watching me. I thought maybe I was being paranoid, but then they came inside. They were searching for something.”
He clenched his jaw so tight it clicked. “No way in hell,” he muttered, barely audible.
“They were looking for something, Logan.”
His vision narrowed.
“I got out through my window. I’m hiding outside now in the bushes, but I don’t know how long I have before they realize I’m gone.”
His heart pounded once, hard, then fell into that low, deadly rhythm. Mission tempo.
“I uncovered something… something big. Corruption. Military officers. I—I can’t say more over the phone. I don’t know who’s listening.”
He stood motionless. Her voice trembled, but there was something determined underneath, she was forcing herself to stay composed.
“I don’t know who to trust. I don’t know if they’re watching you too. What if… what if someone close to you is involved?”
The blow landed hard. Ghost rocked back into the seat, stomach turning to stone. Rachel didn’t speculate. She never had. If she said it, she believed it. And if she believed someone near him was compromised… Then this wasn’t just a threat. It was a war.
“You need to protect yourself. If anything were to happen to you, I…”
He closed his eyes. The pause on the line hollowed out his chest.
“If you get this… just know that I—I wanted to hear your voice one more time.”
The message ended. Ghost sat motionless, fury and fear crawling under his skin.
He stared at the phone, thumb still pressed to the glass. Her voice echoed in his mind, strained, trying to stay controlled but failing. He'd heard the fear underneath. She'd called him specifically. Not the police. Not a friend. Him.
She’d known he’d come. That trust hit hard.
She’d been out there alone, hiding God knew where, watching men tear through her apartment looking for something she wasn’t supposed to have. No way out. No margin for error.
He dragged in a breath through his nose. That last part of her message stuck like a blade between the ribs.
“What if someone close to you is involved?”
