The morning after the firefight, the desert lay still, washed in gold. Smoke curled from the ruined comms tower like the breath of something dying. Echo Unit had survived the night — barely.Inside what was left of the bunker, the air smelled of dust and gunpowder. Rafe sat against the wall, bandaging a cut along his ribs. He hissed as the gauze touched skin. “We keep this up, Cap, and we’ll need a medic with nine hands.”Mercer didn’t look up from the table where Amir had laid out maps, comm chips, and salvaged ammo. “You’re still breathing. That’s enough.”Jace snorted as he cleaned his rifle. “You always did set the bar low, Cap.”Mercer finally looked up, eyes steady but rimmed with exhaustion. “You’d rather I raise it?”Jace smirked faintly. “Just saying — some of us prefer living goals.”Their banter had the rhythm of men trying to forget what they’d seen. The eight men they’d killed last night had worn the same patch as them — same uniform, same insignia.Echo Unit was now offi

The desert gave way to rock and wire.By noon, Echo Unit reached the edge of the canyon where the old fuel lines once fed the army bases to the south. The place had been bombed years ago, but the tunnels remained — whispers of an older war buried under newer lies.Mercer crouched behind a ridge, scanning the scarred landscape through his binoculars. A thin spiral of smoke rose in the distance, almost invisible against the heat shimmer.Rafe squinted. “That a campfire?”“Could be,” Mercer said. “Or a trap.”Amir adjusted the GPS. “Coordinates match the distress beacon we picked up last night. Local resistance cell, maybe.”Jace grinned faintly. “Let’s hope they’re friendlier than Command.”Mercer lowered the binoculars. “No one’s friendly out here. Stay sharp.”They descended into the canyon quietly, boots crunching on gravel. The air was cooler below, heavy with the scent of oil and dust. Navarro stumbled once, still weak, and Rafe caught him.“You good, kid?”Navarro nodded. “Just di

Moonlight skinned the desert in silver as Echo Unit and Delta Two closed on the relay base. The target sat on a low rise—a ring of concrete bunkers and a central tower bristling with dishes. Its silhouette looked innocuous from a distance; up close it felt like a throat waiting to be cut.Mercer crawled forward on his belly, breath steady, heart a metronome under his chest. Rafe and Jace flanked him in whisper-quiet formation. Behind them, Kellan Ward and two men from Delta Two slid into position. Lena and Lira covered the flanks; Amir crouched fifty meters back with a jury-rigged uplink, ready to turn the relay’s own systems against itself.“Eyes on,” Mercer whispered into the throat-mic. “Phase One—quiet entry. Phase Two—node strike. Phase Three—exfil. No heroics.” He felt the familiar click of faith in his chest when the others acknowledged.Cold cement rose under their fingertips as they approached the perimeter. Sensors pulsed faint red — acoustic nodes, heat grids, pressure plat

The desert blurred beneath the wheels of the stolen transport as Echo Unit ripped across the flats. Mercer gripped the dashboard, eyes locked on the horizon. Behind them, Iron Division vehicles closed the gap, engines howling like metallic predators.“Ten seconds and they’ll be in firing range,” Lena warned from the backseat, rifle braced across her knees.Rafe leaned out the window, shouting over the wind, “Then let’s make this fun!”Mercer scanned the terrain — a jagged stretch of basalt rock up ahead. Narrow ravines. Sharp drop-offs. Perfect terrain for a trap, but only if they hit it fast and clean.“Navarro! How’s Jace?” Mercer asked.Navarro was cradling their unconscious comrade, shielding him from the jolt of every bump. “Still breathing, sir. But he needs a medic. Soon.”Mercer nodded. “Hold on.”He jerked the wheel hard right. The truck skidded onto the rock shelf, tires screaming.Behind them, the first Iron Division vehicle followed — overconfident, heavy, too fast. Its su

The desert night settled over Camp Resolve with a heavy, almost metallic stillness. The air tasted like sand and static, and somewhere in the distance, a generator hummed in an uneven rhythm, sputtering every few minutes like it was struggling to breathe. Captain Mercer stood outside the command tent, helmet tucked under one arm, watching the darkness like it was an adversary waiting to make its next move.Echo Unit slept little these days. The fallout from the ambush still hung over them like a second shadow—silent, persistent, and impossible to outrun. Every man carried it differently. Some masked it with jokes. Some closed themselves off. Some sharpened their blades and cleaned their guns until their knuckles split.Mercer carried it alone.A clipboard rustled inside the tent. Major Roarke’s voice cut through the night. “Mercer, get in here.”Mercer stepped inside. The tent smelled of coffee gone bitter hours ago, sweat, and dust that no amount of sweeping could remove. Maps covere