Chapter 1: Extraction Gone SidewaysLocation: Helmand Province, AfghanistanTime: 0430 HoursThe desert didn’t make a sound. That’s what always unnerved Gabriel Knox. In warzones, you came to expect a certain noise: engines, distant gunfire, the hum of life waiting to die. But here, in the thin silence before dawn, the only sound was his own breathing.He lay prone on a rocky ridge, M4A1 rifle fitted with a suppressor and ACOG scope tucked into his shoulder. The compound below was a disjointed sprawl of tin roofs and broken mud walls, lit by a weak lantern in the courtyard. Knox adjusted his thermal optics.He saw her.Jessa Ward, CIA field asset. Her wrists were zip-tied. Blood matted her blond hair, and her khaki blouse was torn at the shoulder. Two men dragged her into a steel shack at the north end of the compound, laughing.Knox’s jaw clenched.“Bravo Team, confirm position,” he whispered into the mic embedded in his throat plate.“Northwest ridge. No movement from exterior,” rep

SHADOW OPS: BLOOD DEBTChapter 3: Kill ListSoviet Outpost – Helmand Wastes0630 HoursFor a long moment, Gabriel Knox said nothing.His name. On the list.His breath slowed, deepened. Not from panic—but from calculation. Every operator knew what it meant when your name showed up on a burn list.You were marked.Not as a threat.As an asset gone rogue.He met Jessa’s eyes. “Start talking.”She was pale, sweat running down her temple. But her voice was steady. “Two weeks ago I intercepted an encrypted file buried in a dormant CIA relay node—one we abandoned five years ago.”“Which would’ve been wiped,” Knox said.“Exactly. But something got missed. The file had no name. Just a string code. When I decrypted it, I saw ops logs. Black missions. Executions. Disappearances. Most were scrubbed from every system... except this one.”“And my name?”She nodded. “Not just yours. Yours was tagged with a greenlight protocol.”Knox’s face hardened. “Authorized termination.”“By someone with Level 9

SHADOW OPS: BLOOD DEBTChapter 5: Istanbul GhostsIstanbul, Turkey — 0812 HoursThe moment Dmitri Halvorsen saw the woman in the heavy coat, he moved.Coffee overturned. Chair slammed back. The quiet rooftop café erupted into startled shouts as patrons scattered.But he didn’t run blindly.Dmitri had survived two decades of covert hell because he understood one truth:SIGMA never sends just one.He dropped down the fire escape behind the café, vaulted over a fruit vendor’s stand, and disappeared into the tight, twisting alleys of Fatih—old city Istanbul. He kept his pace steady, not fast enough to draw attention but quick enough to vanish.Behind him, footsteps. Two sets.Trained.Coordinated.0815 Hours – The List is ActiveHalf a world away, Knox sat with Jessa under a canopy of rock, the sun finally creeping into the cave’s outer lip. Reece still hadn’t woken.Knox checked his GPS.“The drop in Istanbul—your contact. Who is it?”“Name’s Halvorsen,” she said. “Russian expat. Ex-GRU

Chapter 7: Dead Man’s SignalIstanbul, Turkey – 2100 Hours (Local Time)Sultanahmet DistrictThe Grand Bazaar never truly slept. Even in the cool hush of night, lights glowed dimly through antique windows, and a few wandering merchants kept vigil in doorways, sipping tea and watching shadows.Gabriel Knox walked fast but deliberate, head low beneath a faded hoodie. Jessa trailed two steps behind, disguised in a long tan coat, a bandage taped along her cheek where a rock had nicked her in the cave fight.The air smelled of spice, sweat, and tension.Knox turned the corner into a dead alley.At the far end, a steel door. Scratched. Unmarked.He raised his fist.Three knocks.Pause.Two knocks.Pause.One knock.The door clicked open.2102 Hours — Halvorsen’s SafehouseThe room beyond was lit only by a single bulb. Concrete walls. Weapon racks. Satellite maps pinned to boards. Half of the gear was Russian Spetsnaz surplus, the other half American black ops.Halvorsen stood at the far tab

Chapter 9: Echo ChainAthens, Greece – 1400 Hours (Local Time)Underground Safehouse, Thiseio DistrictThe walls were sweating. Beneath the clatter of tourist footsteps above, Knox sat at a rusting metal table, staring at the encrypted drive Lena had pulled from Istanbul.Jessa patched up her arm in silence nearby. Every breath she took was labored, every movement careful. She was running low—on blood, energy, hope. But not resolve.Lena leaned against the wall, watching Knox. She hadn’t said much since the explosion. Not since her father.Knox finally broke the silence.“Who were you before Seoul?”She flinched.“Don’t,” she said, barely above a whisper.“Because Vance has footage of you,” he said evenly. “Younger. Same scar. Same eyes. They didn’t just use you. They built you.”Lena’s eyes darkened. “I don’t know what he showed you, but I—”Knox cut in, sliding a datapad across the table.It showed a schematic.Biometric enhancements. Memory grafts. Hormonal conditioning.All bearin