Chapter 1
Chapter One
Ben Garrison
Two days before Christmas, and I was walking into Citadel headquarters with a ninety-pound Belgian Malinois who knew something was up.
Jolly had been restless all morning, picking up on my energy the way he always did.
I’d tried to play it cool, but the dog knew me too well.
Every time I checked my phone, every time I ran through the mental checklist, his ears would perk and he’d give me that look—the one that said We going to work, or what?
“Yeah, buddy.” I scratched behind his ears as we crossed the parking lot. “We’re going to work.”
He sneezed—that sharp, deliberate sound he made when he was satisfied about something. His version of finally.
“Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying the couch time. I saw you hogging the blanket this morning.”
His tail wagged once—hard, deliberate—but he didn’t deny it.
Jolly had two modes: elite military working dog and shameless blanket thief.
The switch between them was instant, and I’d long ago stopped trying to reconcile the dog who could track a target through miles of jungle with the one who pouted when I didn’t share my sandwich.
The Citadel Solutions building was quiet, that strange hush that settled over any workplace during the holidays. Half the staff had already scattered to family dinners and ski trips. But as I pushed through the door to the briefing room, the energy hit me immediately.
The whole inner team was here. And everyone was awake in a way that had nothing to do with coffee.
Ethan stood at the front, tablet in hand, but his usual neutral mask had a crack in it—something almost like anticipation.
Logan leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, but the tension in his shoulders was different than usual.
Lighter. Ty had claimed his usual spot, boots up on the table until Jace knocked them off—a ritual so ingrained I wasn’t sure either of them noticed they were doing it anymore.
Andrew sat near the window, flipping through a folder with the quiet focus he brought to everything.
Two days before Christmas, and the whole team had shown up without a single complaint. That was its own miracle in and of itself.
Jolly pressed against my leg as I found a seat, his nose working the air. He could feel it too—the anticipation humming under the surface. The coiled energy before an op.
“Ben. Jolly.” Ethan nodded at me. “Good. We’re all here. Let’s run through it one more time.”
“For the record,” Ty announced, “Charlotte wants everyone to know I owe her a full Christmas movie marathon when we get back.”
“What’s on the list?” Jace asked without looking up from his laptop.
“Die Hard, obviously. Die Hard 2. We were going to debate whether Die Hard 3 counts as a Christmas movie—”
“Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie.”
“It absolutely is a Christmas movie, and I will die hard on that hill. But the point is, Charlotte understands the importance of this particular mission and has graciously agreed to postpone our holiday traditions.” Ty grinned.
“She also helped me with the wrapping, because apparently my technique of guessing how much wrapping paper I need then taping extra strips to it if I’m wrong was, quote, ‘offensive to the concept of gift-giving.’”
“She’s not incorrect,” Logan said. “I’ve seen you wrap things. It looks like you fought the paper and lost.”
“The tape gets away from me. It’s a whole thing.”
Jolly’s tail thumped against my leg. He didn’t understand the words, but he knew these people. He was happy to be here no matter what time of the year it was.
Ethan pulled up a map on the wall screen. Jungle terrain, a river cutting through dense green, and a small cluster of buildings I recognized from mission briefings and Lauren’s stories.
Corazón.
My hand found Jolly’s head without thinking, fingers sinking into the thick fur at the base of his skull. He leaned into the touch, but his eyes stayed on the screen.
Lauren Valentino had been running a medical clinic in that village, doing good work, staying under the radar—until the Silva cartel decided she was a liability.
The Citadel team had gone in posing as a weather research group, in an attempt to get her and the other doctors out ahead of Hurricane Tristan.
It had all worked out—especially for Logan and Lauren—but the extraction had been loud and messy.
The kind of op that ends with bodies and burning buildings.
We’d killed the Silvas—father and son both. Their cartel’s reign was over. But by the time we ended the Silvas’ reign, the village had already paid the price for helping an American doctor.
“Operation Dark Tidings,” Ethan said. “Final review. Target location is the village in former Silva cartel territory. Objective remains unchanged: covert delivery of cargo to designated coordinates. Zero footprint. In and out before first light.”
“Hey, something different than our usual guns-blazing exit. I like it.” Ty shifted his feet over so Jace couldn’t reach them.
Ethan zoomed in on the map. “For those who need the refresher—after our extraction, the villagers faced consequences. Our exit drew attention. The cartel wanted answers, and those people had to provide them.”
The room sobered slightly. Even Ty’s grin faded.
“How bad?” Andrew asked quietly.
Ethan’s pause said everything. “Bad enough. What was left of the cartel made examples, until local law enforcement finally shut them down.” He stopped, reassessed. “These people paid a price for helping us.”
“They sure as fuck did,” Logan muttered.
“Since then, the region’s been hit hard,” Ethan continued. “The Silva cartel’s collapse destabilized the local economy. Then the hurricane took what was left. They’ve been struggling to rebuild.”
“We owe them,” Logan said flatly.
“Yes, we do.” Ethan’s jaw tightened. “And Citadel pays its debts.”
The mood shifted again—focused now. This was the part that mattered. The part where good intentions met hard reality.
Jace stood, taking over the screen. “Cartel remnants are still operating in the region. Not organized like they used to be—more like scavengers picking at the bones. But scavengers can still bite.”
He pulled up satellite imagery, tracing patrol patterns with his finger. “Three groups running regular routes within twenty klicks of the village. They know this village cooperated with outside forces during the Silva takedown. They haven’t hit it yet, but that’s opportunity, not mercy.”
“If they see American operators near that village—” Logan started.
“Then these villagers become targets again,” Ethan finished. “This is still a tactical operation. The stakes are real. If we’re compromised, we don’t just fail the mission—we put those people right back in the crosshairs.”
Jolly shifted beside me, responding to the edge in Ethan’s voice. I felt the subtle tension run through his body. The playfulness in the room had settled into something more familiar—professionals preparing for a job that could go sideways.
“Mission window is limited. December 24th, 0200 hours local,” Ethan continued. “Village will be asleep. Minimal movement, optimal conditions for undetected entry and exit.”
“Rules of engagement?” I asked.
“Standard, with a caveat.” Ethan met my eyes. “If we encounter hostiles and have to engage, the mission is failed. Gunfire wakes the village, draws attention from the patrols, and puts those people right back where they were before us. We’re ghosts on this one. In and out as silent as possible.”
“Flight plan,” Andrew said, pulling us back to logistics.
“Low altitude approach from the east. We’ll use the river valley to mask our signature—same terrain we know from the previous op.
Staged extraction point here.” Ethan marked a spot on the map, a clearing about two klicks from the village.
“Helo holds until we signal. Emergency extract is here”—another mark, farther out—“but if we need it, we’ve already failed. ”
“Sector assignments,” Ethan continued, pulling up a new overlay. “Same as we discussed. Ty and Jace, southern quadrant of the village. I’ve got western. Logan, overwatch and coordination.” He looked at me. “Ben, you and Jolly have the northern sector. Eight drop points.”
I studied the map, counting markers. Eight locations, spread across a maze of narrow paths and clustered homes. One marker was highlighted differently—priority designation.
“Elena, age nine,” I read off the screen. “Is that…?”
Jolly’s ears perked at the name, responding to something in my voice.
Logan’s eyes found mine across the room. “Yeah, it’s her.”
Logan had told me about Elena—the little girl who’d found them hiding in an abandoned hut when they’d missed their extraction window.
She’d brought them food her grandmother had made, a tin cup for water, coffee stolen from her mother’s secret stash.
She’d offered Lauren her one saved dollar—money she’d been saving for a pretty ribbon—because she thought they needed it more.
A nine-year-old kid, risking everything to help people she barely knew.
Logan held my gaze. “Prioritize that coordinate. Get it right. This is important for now and her future.”
There was weight in his words, but it wasn’t tactical. It was personal. This mattered to Lauren, and Lauren mattered to Logan, and that was enough.
“Lauren wanted to be part of this operation,” Logan said quietly to everyone. “Corazón meant a lot to her.”
“No.” We all basically said it in unison. It wasn’t that we didn’t love Lauren. It wasn’t even that we didn’t think she could do it.
Every mission was dangerous. This one included.
Ethan nodded. “Agreed. Too risky. If she’s recognized, if anyone connects her to Citadel, we undo everything we’re trying to accomplish.”
“Telling her no meant maybe I’ll be lucky enough to not be sleeping on the couch by New Years,” Logan muttered.
“Of 2047,” Ty quipped.
A couple chuckles and eye rolls before everyone got serious again. I looked around at these men I’d bled with, fought beside, trusted with my life. We’d done a lot of hard things together. This mission was just as important.
Maybe more. Because it was personal.
“I appreciate you guys giving up some of your holiday to do this,” Logan said. “You didn’t have to and I owe you.”
“Are you kidding?” I grinned at him. “Miss the chance to repel out of a perfectly good helicopter, trek through a South American jungle, and possibly be shot on sight? Who would miss that?”
Andrew folded his arms over his chest. “You don’t owe us a thing, brother. We know you’d do this for any of us if we asked.”
“Wheels up in twelve hours,” Ethan said. “Finish any final prep and staging. We get in, do what we’ve committed to do and get out. Silently. We’re all back home by late Christmas day. Questions?”
“Just one,” Ty said. “Does anyone know where to get some Grinch themed lingerie? I think Charlotte would look amazing in fuzzy green—”
Jace threw a pen at him.
“Dismissed.”
The team dispersed, but the energy lingered—focused, ready. I stayed in my seat for a moment, running through my sector in my head. Eight drop points. Narrow paths. Sleeping civilians who couldn’t know we were there. Cartel patrols who’d love an excuse to make the village pay.
The stakes were real. The danger was real.
But, as always, we were ready.