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l eaders didn’t show fear, even when they were scared shitless.

“Drop your weapons!” one of the insurgents yelled in some shitty, broken English. “Now!”

We had no choice. The sound of our guns hitting the dirt felt like our own fucking death bells ringing. They quickly patted us down, stripping away everything—guns, gear.

I winced as a particularly zealous bastard wrenched my arms behind my back, binding them tight enough to cut off circulation.

“Move!” another shouted, jabbing me in the back with his rifle.

They herded us back into the village, rifles pressed against our backs like we were cattle being led to the slaughter. I could feel Red behind me, her breath uneven. The rest of the team didn’t look much better—sweat dripping down their faces, but they held their ground. We weren’t the type to beg.

They shoved us down to our knees in the middle of the village square, the dirt grinding into my legs, but that was the least of my problems. I scanned the area, trying to spot a way out, some crack in their formation, but it was all looking bad.

The locals—those we’d come to help, goddammit—were hiding. Doors closed, windows barred. They weren’t coming to save us. Hell, it wasn’t their problem. Nobody wants to catch a bullet for some poor bastards who had walked into their territory unprepared.

A murmur went through the crowd of insurgents. Then their leader strutted out from behind some half-collapsed building, slow and deliberate, like he had all goddamn day. Older guy, scarred face, sun-baked skin—looked like life had kicked him around, and he loved every second of it.

And when he came into full view, my blood fucking froze. I knew him. I’d recognize that ugly mug anywhere. He was the same bastard who had ambushed us—he had put a knife to Red’s head and yanked her necklace right off her throat.

His lips curled into this smug little grin as he caught the look on my face. He strolled up to me, taking his sweet time, his boots crunching in the dirt, his men parting for him like he was some goddamn king. He stopped in front of me, his gaze flicking from me to Red, then back to me.

“Ah, the American soldier,” he sneered, his English mangled but clear enough to get the point across. “You remember me, yes?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to. The hatred burning in my eyes probably said enough.

The bastard grinned wider, enjoying this. He squatted down in front of me, getting right in my face, close enough that I could smell the rot of his breath, could see the ugly scar running down the side of his cheek.

“I remember you,” he said, tapping a finger against his chest. “You... and your woman.”

He glanced at Red again, and I tensed, wanting to rip his throat out. But with my hands tied and a dozen rifles pointed at us, I couldn’t do shit.

“You think... you save village?” he asked, mockingly. “You bring supplies... food. Hm. But who will save... you?”

I kept my eyes locked on him, trying to keep my breathing steady, but every word out of his mouth was stoking the fire in me.

The bastard stood up, pacing in front of us like he owned the place. Maybe he did, for now. His men snickered, poking us with their rifles any time we moved. The whole situation was a goddamn joke, and we were the punchline.

“You... kill my men,” he continued, turning his gaze back to me. His expression darkened, and he spat onto the ground at my feet. “You think you... strong? Brave? Hm. You will see.”

He barked something in Pashto to one of his guys, and the dude handed him a pistol. He waved it in my face.

“Maybe... I start with... her,” he said, motioning toward Red with the gun and his grin widened when he saw me tense up.

My heart was thudding in my chest, anger pulsing through my veins. This prick was screwing with me, and he knew exactly how to do it. Red stayed quiet, her eyes locked on the ground, but I could feel her fear.

“Please, don’t,” she finally said.

The leader’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, you beg?” he said, leaning down to her level. “No need... beg. I am... merciful.”

“Fuck you,” I spat, unable to hold it in any longer.

His smile vanished and he walked over, slamming the butt of his rifle into my gut. Pain exploded through my stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs, but I didn’t let out a sound.

“You... shut up,” he hissed, his voice low and full of malice. “You... no power here.”

Then he chuckled, low and dark, before motioning to one of his thugs. The guy stepped forward, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back so I had no choice but to stare up at that piece of shit in the face. He crouched again, slower this time, reaching into his pocket.

My gut clenched when he pulled out a small object—Red’s necklace. That familiar, tiny chain swung between his fingers like some sort of sick fucking trophy.

“You remember this?” he asked, waving it in front of my face like I was supposed to grovel.

Then he dangled it in front of Red, letting the pendant swing in front of her like a goddamn tease.

“You want this, yes? Maybe you beg, I give it back.”

Red’s eyes flicked up, locking onto the necklace, and for a moment, I saw something in her expression—something fragile, broken. But it was gone as quickly as it came. She looked away, biting her lip, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

The fucker let out a disappointed tsk, shaking his head before shoving the necklace back into his pocket.

“Too bad.”

He straightened up, turning to his goons and rattled something off in his guttural language. I didn’t need to understand it to know what he was saying. This was it. We were done.

I scanned the area, looking for any chance—anything. But we were screwed. There was no way out.

But if I was going down, I wasn’t going to make it easy for the bastard.

I shifted slightly, trying to gauge how tightly my wrists were bound. The rope was tight, cutting into my skin, but if I could just—

Before I could act, one of the insurgents stepped forward, rifle aimed squarely at my head. My heart hammered in my chest, but I didn’t flinch. If this was how it ended, I was taking at least one of these fuckers with me.

“Last words?” the boss sneered, looking down at me, clearly relishing this moment.

I met his gaze, my lips curling into a cold smile. “Yeah. Go fuck yourself.”

The gunman’s finger twitched on the trigger, and time seemed to slow.

This was it. The bastard was going to take me out right here, and all I could think about was how fucking helpless I felt, with my hands bound behind my back like some loser and no way to fight.

Then, the gunshot rang out.

But it wasn’t my skull that got blown apart.

The guy holding the rifle jerked violently, his head snapping back, blood spraying in a fine mist before he collapsed to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up. He was dead. And I was still here.

My eyes shot upward, scanning for the source of the shot, and there she was—Raven. She was up high, perched on some broken-down tower or rooftop, her rifle raised, smoke still curling from the barrel. Two more of my crew were up there too, covering the high ground. They hadn’t abandoned us, after all. They had been waiting for the right moment.

“Cavalry’s here, boys!” Raven’s voice crackled over our comms, which those dumb bastards had stupidly left active. “Sorry we’re late to the party!”

For a moment, everything stood still as the insurgents around us realized what just went down. Their leader’s cocky grin faltered, replaced by a look of pure confusion as the panic spread among his men.

That was my opening.

I didn’t waste a second. My wrists were raw from the rope cutting into my skin, but the distraction gave me the chance I needed. I twisted, feeling the rough fibers scrape against my flesh, but the adrenaline surging through my veins made the pain fade into the background. With a final pull, the rope gave way, and my hands were free.

The fight was on.

“Go, go!” I shouted at my team, shoving myself off the ground and snatching up the rifle from the dead bastard next to me.

Pyro was already on his feet, ripping the rope from his own wrists. His hand slipped into his belt to grab his pistol, while Viper charged the nearest insurgent, tackling him with the ferocity of a goddamn animal. I watched as he disarmed him, then used the man’s own weapon to cut down two more.

Even Red, who should have been running for cover, was in the thick of it, ducking behind one of their trucks and picking up a gun from the ground. I cursed under my breath, knowing I should tell her to get the hell out of there, but now wasn’t the time. We were fighting for our lives.

And these fuckers were about to learn what happens when you corner a pack of wolves.

Raven and the others were laying down fire from above, and it was an absolute bloodbath. Every shot they fired was dropping these assholes like flies. The whole thing turned into a full-blown shitshow. The enemy didn’t know where the fuck to run—every time one of them tried to make a move, one of my team would cut them down.

I was in it now, my rifle tucked against my shoulder as I squeezed the trigger over and over, sending rounds through these fuckers. Blood splattered across the dirt, bodies piling up.

I ducked behind cover, sucking in a breath before popping off another round. My pulse was through the roof, muscles tense as hell, but I couldn’t stop now. Not until every last one of these bastards was rotting in the dirt.

“Viper, flank right!” I shouted over the noise, seeing a group of insurgents trying to regroup near our vehicles.

He didn’t even wait for the full order—he was already moving, circling to the right with military precision, his assault rifle barking as he dropped them like fucking dominoes.

Pyro was already on the move too, flamethrower strapped across his back, switching to his sidearm and putting two clean headshots through those pricks before they even realized they were dead.

Red wasn’t far behind, right in the goddamn thick of it, hauling the wounded out of the line of fire. I could see that look in her eyes—focused as hell—but it scared the living shit out of me. She was in the thick of it, right where she shouldn’t be. One wrong move, one stray bullet, and she’d be lying in the dirt next to these bastards.

“Red, fall back!” I yelled, but she didn’t listen. Of course she didn’t. Her green eyes were locked on some villager she was dragging out of the crossfire, like I wasn’t even there.

I forced myself to keep my eyes ahead, but my brain wasn’t getting the memo. Every damn gunshot that wasn’t one of ours, every body that hit the ground from the corner of my eye —my gut clenched, and I had to fight the urge to whip my head around and check if she was still standing.

My men needed me, goddammit. They were counting on me, and I couldn’t afford to fuck this up by letting my mind wander. Every second I wasn’t focused on keeping them alive was another second I was screwing them over.

But my blood was boiling, and I didn’t have time to deal with it. Another wave of these pieces of shit came charging from the edge of the village, rifles blazing like amateurs. We had to keep moving. I threw myself into the fray, ducking and weaving through the gunfire, my rifle kicking against my shoulder with every shot.

I was a soldier. A goddamn leader. Not some idiot with his head full of bullshit feelings at the worst possible time.

We were taking them down, one by one. The fear was spreading across their faces as they realized they’d walked right into a slaughter. Raven and the others had them pinned from above, and the rest of us tore through them like mad men.

But then I saw a flash of red and my heart fucking stalled. Red was darting between cover, no body armor, no gun, just that same stubborn look on her face as she tended to some wounded villager.

Jesus Christ, what the hell was she thinking? She wasn’t a soldier. She was a doctor. She shouldn’t even be here, but she was right in the middle of the goddamn warzone.

I forced my gaze back to the insurgents, fired another shot, hit my target. Keep your head on straight, Rogue. Don’t lose your shit now . But no matter how hard I tried to shake it, the worry gnawed at me. If something happened to her… if she got caught in the crossfire while I was standing here like an idiot, I’d never forgive myself.

“Focus, goddammit,” I muttered to myself, squeezing the trigger again and watching another piece of shit drop to the ground.

I couldn’t let myself get sucked into this spiral. I had to lead, had to fight. Red could take care of herself. She wasn’t my responsibility, not right now. Right now, my job was to make sure the rest of these men stayed alive.

I ducked behind cover, reloading my weapon, trying like hell to focus. But there she was again, moving out into the open, and this time I couldn’t stop myself. I glanced over, just for a second, to make sure she wasn’t doing something totally fucking suicidal.

My heart hammered in my chest as I watched her kneeling beside one of the locals, hands moving too fast, trying to stop the bleeding while the bullets whizzed past her head.

“Red, get the fuck down!” I shouted, my throat raw.

But she didn’t react, too goddamn focused on saving some stranger’s life to give a shit about her own.

Fucking red-headed lunatic.

I gritted my teeth, turning back to the fight. We needed to finish this, fast. And I needed to stop letting her screw with my head.

“Viper, on your six!” I called out, pointing toward an insurgent flanking him.

Viper spun, took the guy down with a clean shot, nodding in thanks before moving to his next target.

The insurgents were losing their shit—scrambling like cockroaches, some running, others desperately firing back. One of them rushed toward me, his rifle swinging wildly. I ducked under his pathetic swing, driving my fist into his gut, then finished him off with a shot to the head. His body crumpled, and I didn’t even stop to watch him fall.

I spotted the boss through the chaos, standing back, barking orders to his men in his guttural language. His face was twisted in rage, but there was something else there too—fear. He knew he was fucked. He thought he had us cornered, but now he was watching his men drop like flies.

“Cover me!” I shouted, pushing forward through the gunfire, making a beeline for him.

Pyro and Viper laid down suppressive fire, keeping the remaining insurgents pinned while I charged ahead. The boss saw me coming, and for a second, his eyes widened. He turned, trying to bolt, but I wasn’t going to let that bastard get away. Not this time.

Raven took out another insurgent from her high position, the guy dropping before he could even turn his gun on us. We were cutting them down, one by one, and it was glorious. But it wasn’t over yet.

I reached the boss just as he was trying to make his escape, grabbed him by his filthy shirt, and slammed him down to the ground. He grunted and before he could recover, I had my knee pressed into his chest, my rifle aimed right at his face.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I growled, breathing hard, my heart pounding in my ears.

I wanted to blow his fucking head off right then and there, but I held back. There was something else I needed first. Answers.

Around me, the battle was winding down. The last few insurgents were either dead or on the run, and the gunfire was fading to nothing. My guys were regrouping, catching their breath. But my focus was on this piece of garbage squirming beneath me, his eyes wide with panic.

“Come to finish job?” he spat out, a mocking smile on his bloody lips.

The bastard was a mess—blood soaking his shirt, breath coming in ragged gasps. But the fucker still had that look in his eyes, that smug defiance that made me want to put a bullet between them.

I needed information, not just the satisfaction of beating him to a pulp.

“How the hell did you know we were coming?” I asked, crouching down in front of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, dragging him closer until his face was inches from mine.

He stank—sweat, dirt, and arrogance, and it made me want to choke the life out of him right there.

The fucker just laughed, a wet, gurgling sound that sent flecks of blood spraying from his lips, like I’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

“You Americans,” he wheezed, “so predictable. Like dogs chasing stick.”

My vision went red. The butt of my rifle connected with his face with a satisfying crunch. His head snapped back, fresh blood pouring from his now-broken nose.

“I’ll ask again,” I snarled, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him closer. “How. Did. You. Know?”

He spat blood at my feet, a red grin stretching across his busted mouth. “What matter now? You dead soon anyway. All of you.”

I slammed him back against the ground, ignoring his grunt of pain. “Wrong answer, asshole. We just wiped out your entire fucking squad. You’re the one who’s dead soon.”

His laughter turned into a hacking cough, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. “You think you win? This just beginning. My death... will start something you cannot stop.”

I snapped. My fist connected with his jaw before I even realized I was throwing the punch. His head jerked to the side, and the crunch of bone echoed through my knuckles, and he groaned, spitting blood onto the dirt.

“All right, you fucker,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “You wanna play it like that? Fine.”

I grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head back so he had no choice but to look me in the eye. “Tell me who tipped you off. Who told you about our mission?”

“You have... traitor,” he croaked. “In your own ranks. Someone who wants you all dead.”

A cold chill shot through me, but I didn’t let it show. “Names,” I demanded, pressing the muzzle of my rifle under his chin. “Give me names, or I swear to God, I’ll make your last moments on this earth a living hell.”

More blood dribbled down his chin as he coughed. But there was a glint in his eye that I didn’t like. Like he knew something I didn’t.

“We knew,” he whispered, his breath foul in my face. “We always know.”

“Start talking, or I’ll break every bone in your goddamn body,” I snarled, grabbing him by the throat.

He licked his lips, glancing around nervously as if he expected something to happen.

“You are not safe. None of you are. We have—inside—”

The rest of his sentence was cut off by the sharp crack of a gunshot split the air, and I felt the hot spray of blood splatter across my face. His body went limp in my grip, his head slumping forward as a gaping hole appeared right between his eyes.

“What the fuck?!” I roared, dropping him as he crumpled to the ground in a lifeless heap.

I whipped around, eyes scanning for the shooter. That was when I saw him—Pyro, his rifle still raised, about fifty yards away.

“Pyro!” I screamed into my comms. “What the hell was that? We needed him alive!”

Pyro’s voice crackled back, tense and defensive. “Boss, he was reaching for a weapon. I had to take the shot.”

I wiped the blood from my face with the back of my hand and glanced back at the dead fucker. There was no weapon in sight. No pistol, no knife, not even a fucking rock.

Maybe Pyro was right, maybe he wasn’t. Either way, the bastard was dead, and so was any chance of getting more out of him.

As I turned to leave, my boot crunched on something. I looked down and spotted a silver necklace half-buried in the dirt. Must’ve fallen out when I roughed the guy up. I bent down, picked it up, the chain slipping through my bloodstained fingers.

It was Red’s. No mistaking it. My fist tightened around the delicate metal. For a second, I just stared at the damn thing, the little piece of jewelry feeling so fucking out of place in this hellhole.

My fingers curled around it, the metal cold against my skin, and I shoved it into my pocket without another thought.

We’d been so close. So goddamn close. And now, it was all slipping through my fingers like fucking sand.