Chapter 15: Trauma and Terror
[Memory Sequence – Operation "Ghost Wind" | Syrian Border, Nightfall]
The wind howled like it had teeth, kicking sand into every crack of my gear. I crouched low behind a rusted pipeline, finger resting near the trigger. My thermal visor lit up four heat signatures in the room ahead—tight formation, too comfortable.
"Ghost Unit, report," I said into the comm, voice barely above the wind.
"West flank secure," Nova responded. "Three down. No movement."
"East team’s in position," Vek added, steady as always.
I marked the wall and tapped my wristpad. My drone above blinked green. Flashbang primed.
Three... two...
Pop!
I moved before the echo faded. Breaching the thin wall, I put two suppressed rounds into the first pair of targets—headshots, clean and fast. The third turned just in time to see me before my blade found his throat. I caught the fourth as he raised his weapon, swept his leg, and drove the knife through his chest before he hit the ground.
"Room clear," I said, standing as if I hadn’t just killed four men.
No hesitation. No wasted breath.