Chapter One
The desert night pressedclose around them, heat bleeding from the rocks even after sunset.Kael “Surge” Makani crouched behind a crumbling wall and studied the glow of the compound through his scope.Everything looked perfect—too damn perfect.
Niko “Reef” Keahi slid up beside him, silent as shadow.Even in the dark, Kael felt the weight of his brother’s stare.They didn’t need words.They never had.
Still, Kael murmured, low enough only Reef would hear.“Intel reads clean.Doesn’t feel clean.”
Reef’s jaw flexed.“Yeah.Feels like somebody gift-wrapped us a corpse.”
Kael huffed a quiet laugh, more exhale than humor.The mission had been straight out of the handler’s mouth—kill a weapons broker feeding cartels across three borders.Satellite recon, blueprints, guard rotations.Everything by the book.But Kael had been doing this too long to believe in tidy kills.
Static cracked in his earpiece.“Black Tide, this is Handler.Confirm eyes on the mark.”
Kael tapped his mic.“Affirmative.We’re in position.”
“Copy that.Stand by for go order.”
Kael signaled the others.Reef shifted to his right flank, checking cover.Torch—Keanu Palani—was a dark shape on the ridge, his rifle balanced steady.Breaker, Luca Alama, muttered into the channel from the east perimeter, voice thick with his usual dry sarcasm.“This guy better be worth the heat.I’m sweating my balls off out here.”
“Stay frosty,” Kael replied, eyes still on the compound.“You know how it goes.The hotter the night, the colder the intel.”
“Copy that,” Mano—Tane Ikaika—added from his overwatch post near Torch.Calm.Controlled.Tane always sounded like he had an ocean inside him—smooth surface, dangerous undertow.
Kael checked his timer.They’d been out here for six hours.The mark—a mid-level arms dealer named Vargas—hadn’t shown his face until twenty minutes ago.Too convenient.
The comm crackled again.“Black Tide, Handler.Green light.Target is confirmed inside main structure, second floor, north-facing window.Execute.”
Kael’s gut tightened.Something in the handler’s voice didn’t sit right—too eager.No hesitation, no ‘verify your shots’.Just do it and disappear.
He flicked his mic.“Copy green.Engaging.”
He signaled Reef.Move.The team flowed like one organism—silent, efficient, lethal.Kael led them through the breach, boots whispering against sand and steel.They reached the second floor without contact, but the silence screamed.
Vargas sat at a table, hands folded, eyes steady.Not surprised—expectant.
Kael raised his suppressed pistol.The crosshairs centered on Vargas’s forehead.
The man exhaled.“You are supposed to kill me.”
Kael hesitated.“Say that again.”
“My family won’t get the money if you don’t.”Vargas’s voice cracked.He looked at Kael almost pleadingly.“They said it had to be you.”
A chill crawled down Kael’s spine.He thumbed his comm.“Handler, confirm.The mark just said this is a setup.”
Silence.
“Handler, do you copy?”
Still nothing.
Reef’s low growl came over the channel.“We’re dark.Comms are jammed.”
Torch’s voice cut in, sharp and urgent.“Movement, east ridge!Multiple hostiles closing fast.”
Kael cursed under his breath.“Mano, status?”
“I’ve got visuals.Unmarked uniforms, but these guys are military-grade, boss.Not cartel, not civvies.”
