Page 1 of Everest

1

EVEREST

I glance at the stars scattered across the expansive sky.

This place is barren, nothing more than dust and rock. It’s a forgotten patch of hell, the devil’s playground, where men like us come to do the dirty work others won’t.

When I saymen like us, I’m talking about the Riggs, Thors, Preachers, and Cowboys of the world. The ones who dive headfirst into the heart of chaos, living on the edge of life or death. Not to say that the MC lifestyle doesn’t include all the same elements where danger is a constant companion, but for me, this mercenary shit is a first. For them, it’s just another day in the office.

I run a hand over my jaw, scanning the terrain through the night vision scope, every breath feeling like inhaling sand. During the day, the heat is oppressive, dry, and relentless, the air smelling of scorched earth and sweat—nothing like Louisiana’s thick humidity I’ve known over the years.

When night falls over the vast desert landscape, the air cools dramatically, transitioning from the day’s scorching heat to a refreshing chill. As the landscape is swallowed by darkness,silence becomes palpable, broken only by the occasional murmurs from the men we’ve been sent here to take out.

We’ve been out here for three days, tracking, waiting, and barely sleeping. The mission is taking its toll with heat exhaustion, dehydration, and the constant weight of danger riding our backs. There isn’t much around to keep us hidden from the enemy, just a bunch of rocks and sage bushes. We lost our shot at an ambush yesterday when one of the hostages was dragged out front and beaten bloody while the cartel recorded it. We had to sit, watching and holding our position, knowing that making a move would jeopardize not only the life of the man being brutally attacked but also the safety of the other hostages being held inside.

I roll my shoulders to ease the soreness. My body aches from pushing it far beyond anything I’ve done before, yet I welcome the feeling.

I’ve been craving something to jolt me out of the relentless funk I’ve been in, so when Wick had to bow out of the mission, I half-jokingly offered to take his place. To my surprise, Riggs took my offer seriously, and here I am.

It’s not that I don’t like my life, I do. I have the club and my brothers. I’m also involved with my community, giving back and helping the youth as much as possible. Yet, beneath all that lies a deep-seated desire for more. But I’m not sure whatmoreis just yet.

Hunkered down in the dirt, rifle locked and loaded, I tell myself that this is what I signed up for—a challenge and a chance to chase the high it gives me.

“Two gunmen at the front. A couple more on the east and west sides of the villa,” Preacher’s voice crackles through my earpiece, low and steady, breaking through my thoughts. “Could be more around back,” he adds.

I adjust my grip, shifting against the uneven ground and loose rock. The abandoned compound sprawls out in front of us, an old stone villa used as a makeshift fortress in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by rusted-out vehicles and barbed wire. The bastards inside, members of the cartel, have five hostages, three women and two men, high value, names classified. This mission is a government job. All we know is that a covert operation went south, and the cartel retaliated. And if we don’t get them out, their next stop is a shallow grave, or worse, knowing what these men are capable of.

Riggs kneels beside me, his gaze locked on the compound. “Intel says they want a prisoner exchange, and they want all DEA and CIA operations targeting them shut down. We don’t move soon, and those motherfuckers start sending body parts to prove they mean business.”

“What’s the plan?” I ask, scanning the compound’s layout for the hundredth time.

“The compound is sealed tighter than a gnat’s ass,” Riggs says. “They have men at every entry point. Sneaking in isn’t just difficult, it’s damn near impossible,” he says in a low, tense voice, the weight of the situation clear in his tone. “Our window of opportunity is closing. Our only option is to go in quickly, aggressively, and hope like hell we kill them before they kill the hostages or us.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Thor whispers.

The fact that we’re stepping into the unknown heightens the tension.

Nearby, Cowboy lets out a measured exhale as he methodically checks his rifle. “Good thing we’ve got a few surprises of our own.” He grins confidently, patting a tan-colored pack strapped securely to his back, which also has a miniature grenade launcher. “What do ya say we show these knob gobblers what we’re made of?”

I smirk. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years from being with the club and spending time with Cowboy, Thor, and Preacher is the fact that they thrive in chaos, relishing the hunt as they wipe out humanity’s scum with ruthless precision.

They also enjoy blowing shit up.

Another adrenaline rush floods my veins, and tension crackles in the air, paired with an insatiable hunger for action. We all know what’s at stake, and lives are on the line. There’s no room for hesitation, no time for second-guessing. You either embrace the chaos or you get left behind.

Riggs signals, and a stillness washes over me as we silently move. A faint breeze rattles loose panels of corrugated metal used for fencing surrounding the villa. The distant sound of muffled voices becomes louder as we close in. So far, the cartel is oblivious to the death moving toward them.

We fan out.

I move in on a target.

My pulse slows.

My breaths are steady.

The motherfucker never sees me coming.

One second, he’s scanning the darkness, the next, my arm is locking around his throat, cutting off his airway. He claws at my forearm, attempting to break free. The only sound he makes is a choked gurgle before his body goes limp. I lower his lifeless body silently to the ground and press forward, coming up on Thor, swiftly extinguishing the life of another target, leaving the corpse slumped over a metal barrel.

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