Reaper nodded and masked all of his fraught emotions behind stoic resolve. Here, he was solely Volcano Four, and his job was to protect these men who would fight at his side.
“Comms check, Four.” Zero sounded in his earpiece.
“Four has you loud and clear.”
“Roger.”
They all understood the silent cadence of preparing for war. It was a rhythm they’d honed by repetition over the years. Each action was measured and deliberate for the same reason they ran practice runs through the training grounds at base. When shit hit the fan, knowing exactly where your weapons were attached to your body was key.
Juice whipped open the door, and the air that rushed in was freezing cold. Reaper exhaled sharply, centering himself, before launching into motion. His boots hit the ground with a muffledthud, the impact vibrating up his legs as the team spilled out around him like a well-oiled machine fueled by controlled chaos.
The squat structure ahead made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. There was something all kinds of wrong about this place, aside from the obvious threat of enemy combatants. He shook off the sense of foreboding that prickled against his instincts. Now wasn’t the time for gut feelings. Now was the time for precision.
Viper’s voice cut through the static in his earpiece. “Breach in three… two…”
The explosion tore through the night, a deafeningcrackthat sent a shockwave rippling outward. He surged forward on pure adrenaline, weapon shouldered, his finger hovering over the trigger as he swept the room. His NVGs barely worked enough to see that the place was empty. His stomach twisted. The HVT—the high-value target they’d been sent to extract—was gone.
“Clear!”Juice called from the adjacent room. Reaper could hear the underlying tension in his voice.
“TOC, Volcano One, we’ve got a ghost town here,” Viper growled into comms. “Where the hell is he?”
There was a slight pause, then the disembodied voice of their tactical operations center crackled back, “Moving east through the field behind the structure. IR’s got him—wait—shit, he’s going to ground.”
Reaper adjusted his NVGs, but the fucking clouds had shifted to cover the moon, “Negative visual,” he muttered, teeth gritted. “One, are we blind out here, or are my NVGs fucked?”
“All blind, Four. Walk arm-in-arm,” Viper ordered, his tone brooking no argument. “No one gets separated.”
The team formed a tight line, shoulders brushing, weapons at the ready. Trace’s grip on his shoulder was like iron, his breath hot against the back of Reaper’s neck. “I could shi—” he started, the words a low rumble, the wolf beneath his skin practically vibrating with the need to hunt.
“Negative,” Viper cut in before Reaper could even process the suggestion. What he didn’t say was what they were all thinking.
Is he fucking mad? TOC’s got eyes on us. We don’t need them seeing a goddamn wolf on the IR.
“TOC, talk to us,” Viper snapped. “Where’s this asshole hiding?”
“Four is right on top of him. He’s—fuck—he’s right there.”
Reaper’s blood turned to ice.“I’m not standing on anyone,” he snarled, sweeping his rifle left to right, his fingers itching to be on the trigger. “And if I was, I can’t see shit, so I’d never know it.”
Machine gun fire ripped through the darkness, muzzle flashes lighting up the night in stroboscopic bursts. He lunged for the nearest cover, a gnarled, half-dead tree trunk, and pressed his back against it, bark splintering and raining down as rounds chewed into the wood. His breath came in sharp, controlled bursts as his heart pounded like a war drum against his ribs. “Fuckers.”
Viper and Trace hit the dirt behind a rusted cow feeder, their rifles barking in response. The air was filled with gunfire.
“Contact!” Zero’s voice cut through the chaos.
No fucking shit.
Kaze grunted, a wet, pained sound that sent a jolt of dread down Reaper’s spine. “Fuck—I’m hit!”
Reaper didn’t give himself time to think. His body acted on pure instinct. He shot out from cover and sprinted through the hail of bullets toward Kaze. A round grazed his arm, a hot, sharp sting that barely registered over the roar of adrenaline in his veins. But something else surged through him…something primal that almost felt like a tidal wave of fury, that then switched to a blast of power. It crashed down the mating bond like a live wire. His vision sharpened, the world snapped into hyper-focused clarity, and his muscles coiled with unnatural strength, his movements faster and stronger, as if Cian’s essence had bled into his own.
This shit is the fucking bomb.
He reached Kaze in three long strides, grabbing him by the vest and hauling ass back toward the feeder. Bullets kicked up dirt at their heels, the night alive with the scream of incoming fire. His breath burned in his lungs, but he didn’t stop, and refused to falter until they were both pressed against the rusted metal and the questionable measure of safety the cattle feeder offered.
“TOC, One…” Viper barked into comms, his face streaked with blood. “TOC, how bad you want this fucker alive?”
The response was immediate, crackling with static. “Prefer alive, but we’ll take dead.”
