Location: Kandahar Province, Afghanistan – Pre-DawnThe desert was silent but restless. The kind of silence that presses against your ears until you start hearing things that aren’t there—the crunch of boots that don’t exist, whispers that ride the wind, rifles being cocked just out of sight. Lt. Michael Rockefeller knew better than to trust quiet. Quiet out here was a predator.He crouched by the jagged ridge, peering into the vast stretch of dunes fading into charcoal gray as the night bled toward dawn. His NVGs painted the landscape in eerie green, but there was nothing. No movement. No life. Just sand, shadow, and the ache of uncertainty gnawing in his gut.Behind him, the team was breaking apart in slow motion. Holt was still breathing—barely. Every inhale was a strangled rasp, every exhale weaker than the last. The medic worked tirelessly, his hands steady but his eyes hollow. Monroe hovered nearby, chain-smoking despite the rule against light d