Chapter 50
Aiden
Five sets of eyes land on me, and I give a short, decisive nod.
The other members of my Delta Force squadron fan out according to plan, moving soundlessly through the wooded area.
I don’t know who this target is, other than the fact that they’re a direct threat to national security.
When Alastair Kendrick, the director of the CIA, and Vincent Dalton, the Secretary of Defense, send us somewhere, we complete the op.
It’s not our job to know why; simply to execute without a single casualty in my squad.
I’ve never lost an operator. That won’t change tonight.
This has jackpot written all over it. All six of us will be back in our own beds in North Carolina by tomorrow night.
The helmet doesn’t do much to warm my shaved head, but I hardly notice the frigid temperature. If we do our jobs well, we won’t be here long enough to even feel the cold.
The six of us move more silently than the snow falling around us as we approach the dark-painted home.
The moon is bright tonight, which makes for great conditions for our night vision goggles.
It makes it easy to spot the bodies lying motionless in the snow.
While collecting these soldiers is part of this operation, it’s our secondary objective.
Like we planned, Powers, Johnson, and Greer fan out around the house, securing the perimeter.
With our HK416 carbine rifles clutched tightly in our hands, we slip effortlessly into place like a well-greased timing chain.
Wellington and Miller mutely access the front, while I gain entry through the rear.
The house is silent, which is what I expected at ten past four in the morning.
According to the intelligence, there are other people asleep in this house, but they won’t know we’re here.
Miller and Wellington nod to me as we approach the target, who’s thankfully on the couch. He’s asleep with a bottle of something clutched loosely in his hand.
I trade my assault rifle for my Winkler knife.
Our practiced steps are light as the three of us move like a soundless blizzard.
Miller slaps a black gloved hand over his mouth at the exact moment my blade slices through his carotid artery as easily as moving through water.
He has enough fight in him to wrestle Wellington to the floor with only a single thud until his body goes still.
I proceed through the tedious task of removing his head.
It’s easier than it sounds with this knife.
When it’s clear that we haven’t woken the rest of the house, we begin collecting the bodies, which have been conveniently grouped together.
Once we have them outside, I clutch the target’s head in my hand by the hair and shove it into the bag I brought then exit the home, closing the door behind me.
Outside, Powers, Johnson, and Greer already have men on their shoulders, and the six of us swiftly leave the premises.
As far as operations go, this was as easy and short as they come. Fun, even, but they’re all fun, if you ask me. The best part is that it served to calm the violent thunderstorm that’s always moments away from raining controlled hellfire down on my surroundings.
Miller smirks at me as we all pile into the waiting SUV down the street. He’s feeling as high as I am. I could go for a fuck…or a real fight. I’m sure he’s thinking the same.
Wellington plays music as we begin the drive toward the Army base in Kazakhstan so we can report to Joint Special Operations Command, then board a flight.
“You good, Vandy?” Powers asks from the back, using my nickname.
I don’t know what he sees in my demeanor that makes him think I might not be, but I need to do a better job of locking myself down.
This is my eighth year with the First Special Operations Detachment, and I’ve been wondering for a while if it might be time for a change.
Since even before I could walk, the military has been the only constant in my life.
I don’t know what my life looks like without it. God knows, I don’t do boring.
I roll my head from side, releasing the tension that always builds before an operation. “Ready to get home.”