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More static, then Murchison’s voice again. “Narrow.”

“The basin opening?” Elena asked for clarification.

“Very narrow,” Murchison repeated.

“Can you breach through?”

“Please,” Murchison begged. “Send help. We need help.”

Elena felt the bottom drop out of her stomach as the line to all comms went dead. Her link to Alpha Team was gone, and they were all alone.

She’d sent them to their deaths.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “What have I done?”

Chapter Two

Atticus Cameron paced the spacious conference room like a caged tiger. He caught his reflection in the large mirror at the end of the room, and his gray eyes shimmered silver with anger. The scar that ran across his jawline was stark white. No one would know he was angry unless they knew him well. He was relaxed beneath the expensive suit he wore, though his skin vibrated with the heat of his rage.

He hated suits. But when he’d left field ops and started Dynamis Security, he’d understood the need for his image to change. People didn’t feel comfortable investing millions of dollars in a company where the president wore BDUs and a thigh holster, even though that’s certainly how he was most comfortable.

He stopped pacing and ran his hand over his closely shorn hair, the military-short cut still a habit after all these years. The carpet was thick and a deep gray, luxurious enough to muffle footsteps but practical enough not to show stains—a metaphor for Dynamis itself. Pale gray walls were stark with the exception of two paintings that had been used for payment on a particularly difficult mission—a Monet water lily study and a smaller Degas sketch of dancers. Both were worth enough to fund operations for a year, but Atticus kept them here as reminders that sometimes the most valuable things couldn’t be measured in dollars. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Dallas stretching out below, the city lights beginning to twinkle in the gathering dusk. From this height, everything looked peaceful, orderly, safe. He knew better.

He’d spent a day in meetings, and his head was pounding. All he wanted was to go up to his living quarters, forget about the day, and curl up next to his wife. Sabrina had been making noises recently about having a baby, and he was more than happy to accommodate her, though the thought of becoming a father again at his age was daunting. His daughter had just graduated with her master’s degree.

But the thought of not being able to keep his family safe was what kept him up at night. He’d already lost his first wife to this job. He couldn’t lose anyone else.

Sabrina was the light to his darkness. And he found that the more he loved her, the more his priorities had shifted. He had a duty to his country to keep it safe. But his first duty was to his family, and he’d do whatever it took to protect his wife and children.

He’d been on his way upstairs to his quarters when he’d gotten the alert from Elena about the loss of Titus Dean. Things had gone downhill from there once he’d started receiving the reports. Now he was stuck in a conference room waiting on his agents to show up and tell him about the mess that was the Somalia mission instead of making a baby with his wife.

Nick Devereaux was the first to arrive. Nick had been a Navy SEAL commander before he’d lost his leg in an explosion a couple of years before. It hadn’t been an easy road to recovery, mentally or physically, but he’d taken his discharge from the Navy and promptly demanded Atticus give him a job.

Nick was a different man than he’d been two years before. Atticus had spent many nights wondering if they’d lose him after the loss of his leg had taken away the career he’d loved more than anything. But he’d battled back, and Dynamis R&D had given Nick the opportunity to try a prosthetic prototype.

As Nick walked down the long hallway toward the conference room, it was impossible to tell he was missing a limb. The prosthetic was a work of art—carbon fiber and titanium wrapped in realistic synthetic skin, so perfectly calibrated to his gait that his stride was as cocky as ever, and there was no limp.

He moved like the operator he’d been before the explosion, all coiled strength and easy confidence, wearing faded jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off arms still roped with muscle despite the months of recovery. His dark hair was longer than regulation now, curling slightly at his collar, and his brown eyes held a mischief that said he’d just come from doing something Atticus probably didn’t want to know about.

“Whew, you look mad as a hornet,” Nick said, clapping him on the shoulder and entering the conference room.

“And I thought I was hiding it so well,” Atticus answered.

“What has you in such a good mood?” Nick’s mouth twitched in a half smile. “It’s my day off. Or it was my day off until you called me in. I went fishing this morning, and then I had a nice long lunch with Tess from your accounting department.”

By the relaxed posture and stupid grin on his face, Atticus was guessing they did more than have lunch.

At that moment, Eden Locke came in and raised a brow at the two of them. “Am I interrupting?” she asked. “I thought we were having a meeting. You two look like you’re about to start kissing. Pretty awkward. Should I come back later?”

“Shut up and get in here,” Nick said, his grin widening at the sight of her.

Eden was tall in stature, and she carried herself with the quiet dignity and grace that some were born with. Her face was flawless, her cheekbones high, and her lips full. Her eyes were dark—almost onyx—and fringed with thick lashes and brows that gave her face an exotic intensity.

Her thick black hair was pulled into a high ponytail that fell to her shoulders, the kind of hair that made you wonder what it looked like loose, spread across a pillow. She wore black BDUs that hugged lean curves, and a gray tank top with the Dynamis Security logo over the breast that revealed toned arms marked with the evidence of her dangerous life. The way she carried herself—spine straight, shoulders back, gaze direct—spoke of someone who’d earned every scar and wouldn’t apologize for any of them.

She was a former intelligence operative who’d been shot three times in the chest by her partner—a man she’d loved, a man who turned out to be the terrorist known as Proteus. She’d died twice on the operating table. After recovery, she’d gone off-grid hunting the man who’d betrayed her. Nate had been assigned to bring her in, and somewhere along the way, they’d fallen in love.

Atticus had recruited her after he’d started Dynamis Security because she was, quite simply, one of the best agents he’d ever seen. It was a bonus that she’d fallen in love with and married Nate Locke, who’d been one of his agents since the beginning of the company.