Chapter 3 #2
Their targeted heat signature was now stationary, only seventy meters ahead.
Intel showed the other two runners were circling back—one closing in from the north and the other in positional distance in a wide flank from the first. Their movements confirmed what he had speculated earlier: these were guards, lookouts, or both.
The bastard knows he’s being hunted.
Too fucking bad .
Viper touched his comms. “Split and close. Zero and Reaper sweep the left flank. Kaze hooks right. Juice and Trace, with me. Silence until breach. Hard kill if engaged.”
He listened for the confirmation clicks from his guys as he checked his rifle one last time.
Suppressor secured.
Optics clean.
Mag full.
The weight of the weapon in his hands steadied the pulse screaming in his blood. This was what they were made for. This was why the US Government called his team up when their target needed to vanish from the planet.
I will not fail those with whom I serve.
Viper and his team moved fast and low, skirting a half-dry gully that wound through a grove of stripped palms and into a bowl-shaped hollow formed by ancient lava collapse. The humidity climbed with every meter, curling around them like a wet towel soaked in ash.
Then he spotted the four camo-netted tarps strung between tree trunks, barely distinguishable from the undergrowth.
Beneath them: crates, jerry cans, satcom gear, one portable stove, three bedrolls, and a folding table with a laptop, paper maps, and a field radio.
And standing in the center of it all was the bastard he’d been searching for.
Al-Rami.
The asshole looked older than the image in the intel packet. His beard was shot through with grey. He was still thin, and unfortunately still very much alive. Viper’s jaw locked, and every rage-filled exhale burned his lungs.
You son of a bitch.
Al-Rami turned slightly, talking quietly to the guard with the earpiece and a semiautomatic over his shoulder who stood beside him.
Viper exhaled slowly, then tapped once on his trigger guard.
Go.
There was no shout and no call to arms—just three suppressed shots from Trace, Reaper, and Zero on the left.
Both patrol guards dropped before their weapons cleared their shoulders.
Then he and Juice hit the camp like a fucking hurricane.
Viper cleared left, taking two shots in a tight grouping, removing both guards from that side of the field of play.
Juice flared right and caught another guard coming out of a tent. He dropped him with a round to the chest.
Al-Rami ducked low and scrambled behind the makeshift comms table, one hand going for a sidearm strapped to his thigh.
Too late.
Viper was on him in three strides. “Motherfucker,” he spat, and drove the butt of his rifle into Al-Rami’s shoulder before the man could level his weapon.
Bones crunched, and Al-Rami screamed as his gun fell from his grasp.
Viper followed him down, boot to his chest, rifle pressed under the chin.
“Gabe Lansing sends his regards.” He had zero regrets as he squeezed his finger around the trigger.
I got him, Gabe.
He’s done.
Just like I promised.
Rest easy, brother.
Until we meet again to feast in the halls of Valhalla.
Reaper stepped over a body and crouched beside the laptop. “Clean hit. No pings on uplink. This was off-grid.”
Zero scanned the horizon. “Perimeter clear. One runner almost made it to ground, but we got him before he spooked the trees.”
Kaze paced the edge of the camp, eyes sharp. “Three down. Plus the target. Six bodies total.”
Viper didn’t speak. He knelt beside Al-Rami’s corpse, staring down at the asshole’s open eyes and the blood pooling beneath the man’s head.
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.
But it was done. He reached into his vest and pulled out a small, battered patch.
SEAL Team Five. Gabe’s old team. He pressed it into the blood-soaked fabric on Al-Rami’s chest. “Payback’s a bitch, motherfucker,” he whispered.
“Fuck you and fuck your cause.” He straightened and glanced at the guys.
“DNA them. Gather all the intel, and leave the assholes to rot.” He gave the area one last sweep and moved to help the guys get everything they could from the camp.
But as he moved behind one of the tarps, something shifted under his boots, and he stilled.
It wasn’t much—just a subtle tremor, a vibration low in the soles of his feet, as if the jungle had taken a deep breath and hadn’t decided whether to exhale yet or not.
Trace moved to his right. His head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. “You feel that?”
“Yeah.” Viper shook himself to remove the echo of the memory of Mount St. Helens, but the ground shook again. This time it was hard and sudden, like a freight train barreling beneath the surface. It lasted less than four seconds, but it was enough to send horror through his veins.
Shit.
Two of the gear crates tumbled over, dust rose in a sudden puff from the forest floor, and every member of Volcano Team snapped into readiness like goddamn lightning rods.
“What the fuck was that?” Reaper growled, coming up from his crouch.
“Earthquake?” Kaze pointed to the flock of birds that had risen from the treetops and were rapidly disappearing from view. “But it didn’t feel right. Almost like it was kinda too shallow or something. It moved hella fast, too.”
Viper dropped to one knee and pressed his palm to the moss. “It’s not moving now.”
“That didn’t feel like it was tectonic.” Trace’s voice was low and tight.
“You’re saying this was a coincidence?” Zero asked. “We kill the bastard, and ten minutes later the island hiccups?”
“No.” Trace looked at them with ancient eyes—deep, unreadable, like something half-forgotten had stirred behind them. “I’m saying it feels like there is something on this island and it’s waking up.”
Viper caught the glance and shoved it aside.
He didn’t have time for fairytale shit. But hell, life as he knew it was already on its ass.
He was standing here on an unmapped island with a man who could turn into a wolf on a fucking whim.
He glanced up at the peak of Mount Abalos.
It didn’t look like it was about to do anything.
But what did he know? He wasn’t a volcanologist. He turned to his second in command.
“Juice, get the drone in the air. I want a thermal read on that volcano. Reaper, sweep the perimeter. Kaze, double-check gear integrity. We need to know if this was a one-off or a warning shot.”
They moved fast. Every man there was running the same math in his head: if that volcano blew… the chances of getting off this island were slim to none. No comms would matter. No evac would make it. It would be ash, death, jungle, and a raging mountain breathing fire around their ears.
Viper stared up into the canopy as the silence pressed in around him. Something deep in his gut curled into a cold, hard knot. Warning him. Screaming at him to run. “Leave it.” He yelled the order. “Leave everything. Let’s go.”