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đź“–đź“– Chapter 9 - Shadows in the Sand
Location: Deep Desert, South of Helmand Time: 20:47 Hours The desert at night was a different beast. The heat bled out of the ground and the cold crept in, sharp and cutting, slipping beneath clothes and biting skin. The horizon had disappeared, swallowed by a black so complete it pressed down like a physical weight. The convoy had halted hours ago, engines silenced, the trucks half-buried against the slope of a dune to mask their outlines. A small fire burned low in the sand, giving off more smoke than warmth, its glow licking at the hollow faces gathered around it. No one spoke much. The silence was broken only by the wind, carrying whispers across the dunes, and the occasional cough of grit in a throat. Rockefeller sat apart, canteen balanced between his knees, his eyes scanning the void beyond the firelight. Every time the wind shifted, the darkness seemed to move with it—shapes forming, dissol
đź“–đź“– Chapter 8 - Into the Sand
Location: CIA Safehouse, Kandahar Outskirts Time: 04:58 Hours The safehouse door groaned open, spilling a band of shadows into the pale half-light of dawn. The desert air was sharp, bitter with dust and the faint copper tang of rusted wire. Above them, the sky was bleeding from black into bruised purple. Rockefeller moved first, rucksack strapped tight, rifle slung across his chest. Behind him, fifteen figures filed out, ghosts in tactical gear, their boots crunching over gravel. The mercs wore smirks that never reached their eyes. The operators stayed silent, their faces carved from stone. No words were exchanged. None were needed. Kruger dragged one last breath from his cigarette, dropped it to the dirt, and crushed it under his boot. His gaze lingered on Rockefeller a heartbeat too long before he fell into step with the others. The safehouse door slammed shut. Whatever safety it had of
đź“–đź“– Chapter 7 - The Break
Location: CIA Safehouse, Kandahar City Time: 02:35 Hours The safehouse had gone quiet, but it wasn’t the kind of quiet that brought peace. It was the brittle silence of men wound too tight, of wolves pacing the same cage for too long. Bear sat at the table, polishing his shotgun for the third time that night. Across from him, one of Kruger’s mercenaries leaned back in his chair, chewing khat leaves, spitting into a tin. He hadn’t looked away from Bear in twenty minutes. Finally, the merc spoke. “Big man cleans his toy more than he uses it. Afraid it won’t work when you need it?” Bear’s hands stilled. He set the weapon down slow, deliberate. “Say that again.” The merc grinned, showing green-stained teeth. “You heard me.” The chair screeched as Bear surged forward. His fist connected with the merc’s jaw, sending him crashing back. The room erupted. Chairs overturned, boots sl
đź“–đź“– Chapter 6 - Fractures
Location: CIA Safehouse, Kandahar City Time: 18:20 Hours The safehouse felt smaller with each passing hour. The walls pressed in, the air stifled, and the silence between Rockefeller’s team and Kruger’s mercenaries had thickened into something sharper, heavier—something dangerous. Dinner was spread across the common room table: flatbread, tins of beans, a pot of lukewarm rice. Nobody touched it. The mercenaries smoked instead, their eyes flicking toward the operators with smirks that carried too much meaning. Naomi broke the silence. “You planning to keep glaring, or do you want to say something?” One of Kruger’s men—a scar down his cheek, teeth stained from chewing khat—leaned forward. His voice was low, taunting. “Just wondering how many of you walk out of this alive. Odds aren’t great. Pretty sniper won’t help when the bullets start flying.” Naomi moved before anyone else could. In one
đź“–đź“– Chapter 5 - Shadows in the Safehouse
Location: CIA Safehouse, Kandahar City Time: 20:40 Hours The safehouse was supposed to be secure. But Michael Rockefeller had been in enough warzones to know walls were only as strong as the men guarding them, and he didn’t trust these walls one bit. The operators filled the operations room in uneasy silence. The fan creaked overhead, the lightbulb flickered, and the heat pressed down on them like a second enemy. On one side of the table sat Rockefeller’s team—Sarah, Naomi, Bear, the hardened special forces agents whose loyalty had been tested in fire. On the other side, lounging like jackals in borrowed gear, sat Kruger’s mercenaries. The divide was obvious. The air between them thick with contempt. “Cute maps,” one of Kruger’s men drawled, tapping the satellite photos spread across the table. His beard was patchy, his smirk lazy. “But we all know we’re walking into a meat grinder. Tell me, Colonel, wh
đź“–đź“– Chapter 4 - The Dust Of Kandahar
Location: CIA Safehouse, Kandahar City Time: 22:15 Hours – Two Days Later The C-130’s ramp groaned open, and a blast of hot desert air flooded the cabin. The smell hit first—diesel fumes, dust, and something faintly metallic that clung to the back of the throat. Kandahar was no welcoming city. It wasn’t built to embrace strangers. It was built to swallow them. Michael Rockefeller led his team down the ramp, boots crunching on the cracked asphalt. The airfield was dimly lit, guarded by men in mismatched uniforms with rifles slung too casually over their shoulders. Afghan National Army, maybe, or some militia paid to look official. Michael didn’t care. He’d seen enough borderland armies to know their loyalty could be bought with dollars—or bullets. A pair of black SUVs idled near the runway, engines running, headlights cutting through the haze. A man in a gray suit stepped out, his tie loose, his face drawn from to
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