CHAPTER 1
The humid air of the Kachin Hills in northern Myanmar wrapped around the team like a second skin—thick, hot, and suffocating. The scent of damp earth and decaying leaves seeped into their lungs as they trudged through the underbrush. Morning fog hung low over the jungle floor, curling around twisted roots. The dampness clung to their boots, sucking them into the ground. Each step was a battle, the ground boggy from the rainstorm that had swept through just hours before.
Deacon Alexander swiped at the sweat dripping into his eyes, his gloved hand leaving a streak of dirt across his cheek. Ahead, Ranger, his point man, with a machete strapped to his back—paused, motioning for the team to stop with a raised fist. The jungle, alive with the constant buzz of cicadas, seemed to hold its breath. Somewhere, a gibbon howled, its eerie cry echoing through the trees like a warning.
Deacon glanced at Rip, his explosives specialist, who was scanning the treetops. Deacon looked heavenward, his eyes catching every twitch of the branches above. His jaw tightened. This place wasn’t just a jungle; it was a predator, alive andwaiting for them to make a mistake. It would give no mercy to anyone who didn’t know how to survive.
Ranger lowered his fist, pulled his machete from its sheath, and pushed forward, moving them westward. Deacon caught the distant smell of smoke. A small village or tribal settlement was nearby. They’d seen it on the satellite images. Ranger led them away from the locals, who would sound the alarm at the presence of an armed group.
Deacon glanced at his watch’s GPS as they moved forward. The lack of a clear trail made progress difficult. The sound of distant rolling thunder sent every eye on his team to the almost impenetrable canopy above them. At the bottom of the steep terrain, any rain would make the land impassable.
Ranger glanced back at him, and he nodded. They would push on. Their mission was to destroy a cache of military-grade weapons intended for a terrorist cell that Guardian, in conjunction with other intelligence agencies, had determined was planning an imminent attack in a neighboring country.
Hours later, they kneeled behind cover and looked at the abandoned mine where the cache of weapons was hidden.
Silence hung as heavy as the humidity. Even the cicadas had stopped their song. Several gibbons played on trees near the entrance, unbothered by the scattered crates and empty ammo boxes at the mouth of the mine.
Deacon surveyed the area. “I don’t like it.”
“Yeah, my gut is telling me this isn’t right,” Ranger said beside him.
“Bandit, run a thermal.”
“On it,” Bandit whispered from his location about ten meters away.
Deacon stared at the opening. “Rip, charges on the outside, too. No one’s going to use this as a cache again.”
“Roger that, Cap,” Rip whispered from his location about ten meters away, but once again, their comm devices relayed the words clearly.
“Bandit, anything?”
“Looking now,” Bandit replied.
“Click, anything on satellite?” Deacon asked their computer specialist for an update.
“Negative, but I got to tell you, Cap, that canopy could be hiding a fucking battalion, and I might not see it.” Click’s Southie accent was a constant. He was Cobra Team’s specialist and just as much a part of the team as anyone on the ground with Deacon.
“Yeah, I know.” Deacon glanced over at his second in command. “Ranger, you and Ace will go in first, set perimeter defenses. Rip will put up the charges when you’re set. Bandit and I will have his six. When we’re ready for entry, I’ll signal.”
Ranger nodded.
“Copy,” Ace said from where he was watching their six.
“Cap, I got nothing except a family of monkeys. I can’t read anything in the cave. The rock is blocking the thermal,” Bandit said and secured the handheld imager to his pack.
Deacon heard the rain before it hit him. The sound of the drops through the canopy was loud, which was why the insects had stopped.Fuck.
“I don’t like it, but we have an objective and a timeline.” Deacon put his helmet on and glanced at his men. “On my mark.” He looked at each of his men. “Whatever it takes.”
“As long as it takes,” they answered as one.
He looked at his team one last time before giving the command, “Go.”
Ranger lifted at the same time as Ace, and they advanced into the small opening. The gibbons started whooping as they noticed his people exiting.Damn it.Once Ranger and Acecleared the area, Rip moved forward. Deacon and Bandit were on his six, setting up the small confines of their perimeter.
Every leaf amplified the sound of the rain as it fell harder, drowning out the rest of the jungle noises. The family of gibbons whooping at them under a thick branch jumped, and every last one of the bastards looked left and then leaped from the branches, swinging into the jungle. Deacon shifted his focus to see what had taken the monkeys’ attention off them.Fuck.
“We’ve got company.” Deacon couldn’t tell who was coming through the jungle. The downpour obscured the figures, but they were men, and they were coming to the mine. Therefore, they were enemies until identified otherwise. “Take cover, move!” His priority was getting his men to safety.