The convoy rolled out just after first light, engines growling low and steady as Echo Unit took its places around the civilian trucks. Dust rose in pale clouds behind the tires, catching the early sun and turning the air hazy gold. To anyone watching from the hills, it might have looked almost peaceful—a line of vehicles moving with purpose, soldiers alert but calm.Captain Daniel Mercer sat in the lead MRAP, headset snug against his ears, eyes fixed on the narrow road ahead. Chapter 61 still weighed on him—the uneasy night, the intercepted chatter Pike had translated, the sense that someone out there knew exactly where they were going. This wasn’t just an escort anymore. It was a test.“Spacing looks good,” Sergeant Lucas Hale said from the gunner’s seat above. “No movement on the ridges so far.”“So far,” Mercer replied. He glanced at the tablet mounted beside him, the map glowing faintly. The river corridor curved ahead, flanked by low stone walls and clusters of scrub. Plenty of p

Morning did not bring relief. It brought clarity.The valley woke under a thin veil of dust and smoke, the sun climbing fast, already promising heat that would sap strength and patience alike. Echo Unit broke camp with practiced efficiency, engines rumbling low as the aid convoy re-formed. The rescued driver was loaded into a medical vehicle, unconscious but breathing, an IV taped to his arm like a fragile lifeline.Captain Daniel Mercer stood beside the lead MRAP, helmet under his arm, eyes scanning the horizon. Chapter 63 lingered in every movement—the weight of the night rescue, the near miss, the reminder that principles weren’t abstract things. They were choices made under pressure, paid for in sweat and blood.Lieutenant Aaron Pike approached, tablet in hand. “Intercepted more chatter at first light,” he said. “Same voices as last night. They know we pulled someone out. That changed the tone.”“From harassment to intent,” Mercer said.Pike nodded. “Looks that way.”Sergeant Luca

The road opened into a wide plain that shimmered under the late-morning sun, a deceptive calm stretching in all directions. Low scrub dotted the land like punctuation marks, and beyond it, the hills pulled back just enough to make the convoy feel exposed. Captain Daniel Mercer didn’t trust open ground any more than narrow passes. Each demanded a different kind of vigilance.“Spacing to one hundred meters,” Mercer ordered over comms. “No bunching.”Engines adjusted. The convoy lengthened, becoming a deliberate line instead of a tempting cluster. Drones continued their lazy circles overhead, optics feeding quiet reassurance and constant warning in equal measure.Inside the lead MRAP, Lieutenant Aaron Pike tracked the feeds, fingers tapping the tablet’s edge. “Thermals are clean for now,” he said. “But there’s intermittent signal noise. Someone’s trying to listen.”Mercer nodded. “Let them hear discipline.”Behind them, Corporal Ben Ortiz checked on Private Jonah Reed, who rode with his

The relay point vanished behind Echo Unit in a haze of dust and engine noise, replaced by a stretch of broken terrain that looked harmless from a distance and treacherous up close. The road fractured into shallow gullies and dry channels, scars carved by seasons of flash floods. It was the kind of ground that punished complacency.Captain Daniel Mercer rode in the lead vehicle, eyes moving constantly—mirrors, horizon, instruments, then back to the land. The rules had shifted again. Higher command’s message still echoed in his head: increased latitude for force. A loosened leash could be as dangerous as a tight one.“Spacing tightens here,” Mercer ordered. “Seventy-five meters. No faster than we can see.”The convoy complied, engines settling into a measured pace. Drones were back in the air, their quiet hum barely audible beneath the wind.Sergeant Lucas Hale’s voice came through calm but edged. “Terrain’s bad for wheels. Worse for reaction time.”“Then we slow,” Mercer said. “We don’

The valley disappeared behind Echo Unit as darkness claimed the road, replaced by a stretch of high ground that forced the convoy to climb in long, grinding pulls. Engines strained, headlights cut narrow tunnels through the night, and the air grew cooler with every meter gained. The silence inside the vehicles was heavier now—not fear, but the kind of focus that followed too many near misses in too short a span of time.Captain Daniel Mercer rode with his helmet off, resting against the seat, eyes open and alert. The last engagement replayed in fragments—the civilians’ panic, the probing fire, the way the enemy slipped away as soon as Echo Unit refused to overextend. It was becoming a pattern. And patterns, Mercer knew, always evolved.“Terrain levels out in two klicks,” Lieutenant Aaron Pike reported quietly. “Satellite shows an abandoned quarry up ahead. Hard ground. Good sightlines.”Mercer nodded. “We stop there. Short rest. Reset.”The quarry emerged gradually from the dark, a sh