Page 1
Chapter One
Elena Navarro knew fear. She knew what it tasted like—metallic and sharp, like blood on the tongue. What it smelled like—acrid sweat mixed with the ozone tang of overheated electronics. And she knew what it felt like for silent screams to echo relentlessly in the mind, reverberating through every conscious thought until they became white noise you couldn’t escape.
Her fingers moved across the keyboard with efficiency as she studied the bank of electronic screens covering the wall inside the Dynamis Security HQ Command Center. The room was tomb quiet except for the soft hum of cooling fans and the rhythmic pulse of her own heartbeat in her ears. Cool air whispered from overhead vents, but sweat dampened the small of her back, her body betraying the calm her voice projected. Her heart pounded as she watched the situation in Somalia deteriorate, each red pixel on the screen representing a life she was responsible for keeping alive.
“I don’t care what it says, Alpha One.” Her voice was calm and commanding despite the tension coiling in her gut. “I’m telling you to go straight ahead.”
“HQ, we’re getting overrun out here. I can’t afford one wrong turn.” Titus, or Alpha One, was the newest team leader of highly trained operatives that Dynamis Security had dispatched across the globe. Expanding operations was an experiment, and it was failing.
She typed quickly, studying data and images scrolling across the screens. Her mind stayed focused despite the rattled transmissions. She’d heard his fear, recognized it, and discarded it. Fear would only get them killed. Her job was to provide an escape route.
The mission should’ve been simple—rescuing petroleum researchers from Somali pirates. The team was more than capable. But what started as a quick grab-and-go had turned into a fight for survival.
“Get us out of here, HQ.” Titus’s voice broke as he pleaded with a woman he’d never met but now entrusted with his life.
“I’m working on it,” she assured him. “Stay with me, Alpha One. Stay calm. I’ll get you out.”
Elena was head of logistics and support for Dynamis Security, a role she’d carved out through sheer determination and countless sleepless nights working under Cal Cruz’s demanding tutelage.
Cal was Dynamis’s head of technology—a thirty-something genius with a South Carolina drawl and forearms covered in intricate tattoos that told stories he never explained. He’d recruited her into the tech division seven years ago when she’d needed purpose more than she’d needed kindness, and he’d trained her with the same ruthless efficiency he applied to everything else.
“You’ve got the mind for this,” he’d told her after her first week. “Now let’s see if you’ve got the stomach for it.” She’d managed high-threat communications for years from this very room—a windowless chamber three levels belowground, climate-controlled to exactly sixty-eight degrees to keep the equipment from overheating.
Cal’s domain occupied the entire sublevel, but this operations room was hers, the space where she’d proven she had both the mind and the stomach for work that kept people alive. The air always smelled faintly of ozone and the industrial-strength coffee that fueled twenty-four-hour operations. Banks of screens created a semicircle of blue-white light that turned everything ghostly, ethereal, like working inside a technological cocoon removed from the real world above.
Cal’s main tech vault was two doors down, where he built weapons out of code and turned information into power. Here, Elena used those weapons to keep Dynamis operatives breathing.
Technology was a beautiful thing, especially the kind Dynamis had access to. Although she was over nine thousand miles from Merca, she was completely plugged in to Titus and the nine other warriors running blind through the East African jungle.
“Alpha One, maintain your course,” she said. “I’m programming new coordinates into your navigator that will allow you to meet the next chopper evac from a less hostile position.”
“Screw that. Send in backup. We need more guns on the ground, HQ.”
She shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. The team was on their own. You never risked more men to rescue the rescuers.
“Alpha One, are you there?”
“Go, HQ.”
“You’re it. There’s no backup.”
Her eyes scanned the geographic navigation maps and live-feed satellite image of the ten men—each one a blur of red on the screen. She was responsible for getting them out.
Somali rebels had far outnumbered the staff and agents assigned to protect them. The mission had political and financial implications, but right now her priority was the men on the ground.
“Turn left,” she told him.
“Repeat. Taking gunfire. Repeat command.”
“Turn left, Alpha One.” She kept her voice steady.
“You want us to turn left?” He laughed. “Screw that. Straight ahead is a cliff and left is a giant rock wall. Right looks like the better option. Sorry, HQ, but your eyesight is warped. Thanks for nothing.”
Elena stood, anger burning beneath her skin. He was going to get them all killed. She studied the bank of touchscreens, her finger tracing the detailed images of where Alpha Team was stranded. What was she missing?
She pressed three fingers against the screen and zoomed in. The narrow gap appeared—barely visible between the rock formations.
“HQ to Alpha One, if you proceed to the right, you will die. If you disobey my instructions, you’ll be acting on your own. Our contract is very clear about your duty to follow directions. This isn’t a standard military op. If you manage to stay alive, I can assure you it’ll be the last mission you’re assigned to.”
