Chapter Thirty-Three
Having active military and assassins put them at an advantage.
Tatum didn’t have the numbers—or the discipline—Dave and Will had at their disposal.
Dave wiped a hand across the dirt on his face. When Stone handed him a dust rag, he tied it over his mouth and nose. The grit clung to sweat, the air sharp with fuel and metal.
Behind them, the Chinook had gone silent, rotors stilling one by one. A handful of soldiers stayed on guard.
Dave moved out. Stone fell in beside him—quiet, steady, solid as the rifle he carried. With Stone at his flank, Dave felt invincible. Felt like maybe, for once, they could take back something good from all this wreckage.
Will and his commanders spread the teams wide, hand signals sharp against the heat haze. Genesis advanced west in a staggered line.
Out here, they were one—no rank, no distinction. Only the mission.
The desert swallowed them whole. Boots ghosted over the sand-colored earth, the men moving like they belonged to it.
Encroaching on the enemy in broad daylight—exactly when Tatum would never expect it.
Then the world cracked open.
The first volley tore through the quiet, gunfire shredding the stillness. Genesis surged forward, the impact so fierce it felt like the ground itself split under them.
Tents collapsed in clouds of grit. Men shouted. Bullets whined. Sand jumped in bursts around their feet.
Dave leaned into cover, raised his weapon, and fired. One merc hit the dirt. Another tried for cover—too slow.
“Left ridge!” Stone barked. Dave swung his aim, covering the flank as Stone advanced low and fast.
Across the field, Will’s voice carried sharp commands, the calm of a man who’d led a hundred fights before this one. The soldiers fanned wider, cutting through the camp like a blade through cloth.
A grenade arced through the air—Stone saw it first.
“Grenade!” he shouted, shoving Dave to the ground as the explosion hit. The blast shook the earth, sand and heat raining down over them.
“Still breathing?” Stone’s voice came low, steady, grounding.
“Still here,” Dave rasped, rolling to one knee. He squeezed off another round, the recoil jarring through his arm.
The camp was chaos now—Tatum’s men breaking formation, some scattering, others firing blind into the storm.
But Genesis didn’t scatter. They closed in, methodical, ruthless, pushing Tatum’s forces into the open.
Through the smoke, Dave caught a flash of movement—Tatum himself, retreating toward the far ridge.
“Stone—”
“I see him.”
They locked eyes across the chaos, the understanding instant.
Time to finish this.
Dave rose from cover, Stone matching his step for step. Together they advanced through the wreckage and fire, the desert burning around them, the mission narrowing to one clear point—
Find Tatum.
End it.
Over the crest of the rise, Dave spotted Tatum and Viper locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat.
“Shit,” Winter hissed, moving forward.
Dave threw an arm out, stopping him. “I think this is one fight Viper needs.”
“Agreed,” Stone said beside him—voice low, steady—but his rifle was already up, ready if things went south.
Viper drove a heavy fist straight into Tatum’s mouth, dropping him hard. Dust and heat exploded around them. Tatum hit the ground grinning, his smile red with blood.
He rolled, lunged low, trying to sweep Viper’s legs. Viper dodged clean and countered—a brutal roundhouse to the gut. Tatum folded, air blasting from his lungs, and Viper’s next strike caught him square beneath the chin.
Tatum hit the ground hard.
Out cold.
Viper stood over Tatum’s prone body, chest heaving.
He spat blood into the dirt beside the man’s head, then turned toward where Stone and Dave stood a few paces back.
“Gun!” Sage shouted, voice cutting through the chaos.
Stone’s rifle cracked an instant later—sharp, close enough to jolt Dave’s nerves. Viper spun, weapon up.
“Fuck.”
He would’ve been too late anyway.
Tatum jerked back from the hit, blood blooming across his chest as the gun slipped from his hand. When he hit the dirt, the sand drank deep, turning dark beneath him. His eyes stayed open—empty, fixed on Stone—as the light bled out.
“He was aiming for Viper’s back,” Sage said, motioning toward where Tatum had fallen.
Stone gave a short nod. “You did good.”
Soldiers jogged down the embankment, boots sliding in the loose sand. The lead man knelt beside Tatum, pressed two fingers to his neck, and shook his head.
“He’s gone,” the soldier called.
They lifted the body, hauling it out of the gully and toward the waiting Chinook. By the time they reached the birds, Tatum was zipped into a bag.
With Stone at his side, Dave walked over to Will.
“You doing the paperwork on him?” he asked, cracking open a canteen.
“Hell no,” Will snorted and clapped him on the back. “You’re the one who said you wanted to slow down. So, paperwork is right up your alley.”
“I wouldn’t classify this as slowing down.” Dave smirked and gestured toward the wrecked camp.
Will chuckled, the deep sound drawing a few smiles from his men.
“You’re right, this is definitely not.” He clasped Dave’s shoulder firmly. “You, my friend, might want to take some vacation time.”
Dave glanced over at Stone—solid, silent, steady as ever, waiting for him.
“That,” he said, a faint smile pulling at his mouth, “sounds like a great idea.”
They parted ways—Will taking Tatum’s body, his men aboard the Chinook before lifting off in a storm of dust and sound. Real jumped inside the other helicopter along with the rest of Genesis and YA.
Dave climbed into the Blackhawk with Stone right behind him and leaned back against the metal wall. The hum of the engine built beneath them, steady and low.
Across the small space, Stone’s eyes caught the light—steady, unreadable, that familiar storm behind them. Dave wondered what was running through his head.
He didn’t have to wonder long.
Stone leaned in, fisted a hand in the front of Dave’s vest, and yanked him forward until their faces were inches apart. The engines roared, the blades churned, and over the rising noise came Stone’s voice—low, certain.
“I love you.”
Then his hand was gone.
Dave sank back into the seat, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something deeper. The words—and the look in Stone’s eyes—hit harder than any mission ever had. They made him want to reach out, pull Stone close, and never let go.
He didn’t. Not yet.
But as the Blackhawk lifted into the burning light of the desert, one truth settled deep and immovable in his chest.
Stone owned him—heart and soul.