Page 139 of Exposé

"He got a slap on the wrist."

I've worked for the very man who got my team killed.

Glancing toward the door, I forewent Callie's direct warning and pulled out my keychain, stuck a blank USB stick into the computer, and transferred every folder I could find, my blood saturated with venom.

"Come on," I growled, my jaw aching as I ground my teeth. My eyes moved from the door to the computer screen over and over, willing the process to speed up.

Sweat breaks out on the back of my neck despite the wind biting through my collar.

The contrast creates a haze of disillusionment.

We're in the desert, but the air is cold, wintry even.

I glance around at the team, our boots barely sinking into the sand. It’s harder than normal, thanks to the rain that poured last night and the colder temps. The sand doesn't shift like sugar beneath us, making each step feel like a battle.

The night is as quiet as a tomb, except for the sound of our weapons clicking, the mechanics on our gear shifting.

We move in formation in the endless sea of darkness—my team in tight formation, except Baker, who lags behind checking our six.

Silence lingers like an oppressive weight.

Where is everyone?

“Bravo checkpoint in two clicks,” I say, my voice low over the comms, eyes fixed on the terrain ahead.

The others keep pace without a word.

I don’t need to say much.

They know their jobs.

"Baker, tighten it up."

It’s a small thing, but it matters.

Precision.

Discipline.

No room for mistakes.

Baker moves forward. His hand drops down onto Stover's shoulder, and the ground shakes beneath me.

The world splits open with a deafening roar.

The first explosion hits with a searing blast of heat and force that hurls me backward, knocking the breath from my lungs. My body slams into the jagged edge of a building.

My head rings, my vision swims as I push off the wreckage, trying to regain my footing.

Smoke, fire, the crackle of my comms in my ear...

Baker's body is crumpled on the ground, his helmet half-blown off, blood mixing with the sand beneath him. His eyes, wide and glassy, are staring at nothing.

It’s over.

It’s too late for him.

The world around me spins as I fight to stay in control.

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