1. daegan

THREE MONTHS AGO

1

DAEGAN

I became a Navy SEAL at twenty-eight years old, and the adrenaline I get when I'm about to jump out of a plane never changes. I'm thirty-four now, and my dedication to this career has become an obsession, always striving to do more and to be better.

I was working for one of my step-brothers, Graves. He runs a private security company. The services that Graves provides make his job title an understatement. It is a very abnormal private security company. He also does various other businesses; I haven't asked what they are.

But I craved more. I wanted to do more. Joining the Navy was my ‘more.'

We're high in the sky, ready to bring hell on a mission I'm the center of. Somebody will be in my crosshairs, and I'll wish them a good night. Another high-value target. Another evil soul that won't be able to hurt another person again. And we're jumping in this time.

Oh, what fun.

This is my favorite. Jumping in the middle of the night as darkness surrounds me, getting lost in the stars as I float and fly down like a dragon, ready to unleash fire.

Everyone has jumped. Rooker, Lopez, Grim…except Kane. I'm smiling big underneath my mask as he hesitates to walk off the plane.

"You good Bane?" I coo deep and wickedly.

I haven't been on SEAL team executioners for long, but I know Operator Bane is the one who has a heart that gives. Mine only takes.

"Of course. I'm good." He shouts over the airplane's engine and harsh winds. He stands just at the edge. If he steps forward once, he's airborne. I look over his shoulder, standing beside him. We can't see shit, just clouds. "Just never been a fan of jumping, bro." He shrugs.

Time is running fast, and we can't waste any more time. The mission has begun.

I roll my eyes.

"Get the fuck out." I snarl.

He arches a brow, confused. His eyebrows are narrowing, as always when I talk. I grab him by the arm, "You're not jumping; you're flying."

"Creature, don't you fucking dare, don't you–" He tenses over my hold. I know he's infuriated.

I push him out of the plane, forcing him to shut his mouth. His attempt to escape my execution fails. A roar of dark laughter floods my ears as I prepare to jump with my equipment and rifle.

"Asshole!" He screams into the mic as he descends. I can barely decipher his yelling anymore; now it's my turn to fly.

After we landed, I took out a target on the most wanted list. Anyone who's a high-value target has committed tragically evil crimes. Another successful secret mission has been completed. Now, we were sent to assist in Overwatch.

That's what most of my missions consist of as a Navy SEAL sniper.

Thunder erupts, striking the earth's core and reverberating through my body.

I can feel the lightning strike in my bones, vibrating as it shields the sound of my sniper going off, and another bad guy falls to the floor.

I hum the same tune as I look through my crosshairs to verify the target has been eliminated. He's dead. Half of his head has fallen off, and an RPG falls to the street. Ten marines were saved tonight because I don't miss...ever. I see everything. Sniping has always come naturally to me. I passed Sniper School with flying colors, graduating at the top of my class.

Rain patters my masked face, lightning bolt after lightning bolt, and the world thunders like a damn celebration. Death is happy. Another soul he gets to guide to hell.

My black mask has half of a smile and sharp teeth engraved as a design. It covers the scars on my face. There are more scars on my body that my uniform disguises.

It's late at night, and Marines are on their way out of a dangerous village that should have been evacuated months ago. I'm not surprised there are still threats that linger, waiting to take them out.

"Hey, Creature."

Slaughter calls out from behind me. He's my spotter, making sure no one comes up from behind me as I look for threats, scouring and watching these men vacate safely. I'm their eyes in the sky.

I turn my head for a second, giving him a bored expression through my eyes, unamused to carry on conversation.

"Look, man, I know you probably don't like me. Everyone's been giving me the cold shoulder since I kind of overstepped with Ari. But–"

I cut him off, scoffing.

"You did overstep with the girl. You crossed a line, loverboy. You're lucky Grim granted you mercy because I wouldn't have." I spit, readjusting my sniper rifle and looking into the scope.

He grows quiet and shifts in his spot in the corner of the rooftop.

Entering the military did something to me. Like it does to all of us who make it through, even more so making a SEAL team, we're all bonded in a brotherhood of blood, sweat, and tears. We fight for our fucking lives together, creating unbreakable bonds. We always have each other's back, no matter what, even when it comes to who we share our private lives with.

You just don't cross lines when it comes to wives or girlfriends. And Slaughter did.

"Look, I don't give a shit about drama. I could care less where any of you guys put your dicks. All I'm saying is, learn what loyalty means." I scold him.

"I do know what loyalty means." He spits back with rage. His tone is rising, and he's on the defensive end. "It's complicated with Ari. I've been there since Paul passed away. I shared my condolences to her and her mother on the day Paul Alvarez was buried when Grim couldn't even face them. I kept the promise we all made since day one. And I don't fault Grim for that. I'm just saying. He couldn't look them in the eyes, and I understood why. Someone had to face them, and I did. And that's when I met her. I love Ari. I always will. I made the same promise Grim did. Paul's team and our team promised to watch over his family." He pauses after inhaling a sharp breath. "But I'm moving on even if it hurts. It's not an excuse for my actions this past year, but I've apologized to both of them. Grim hasn't talked to me since the military ball, really, and I know I fucked up." He pauses, choking up. "I— I know I did." He stutters. I can tell he's fighting the urge to spill his emotions over his raspy voice.

I roll my eyes.

It's getting too emotional on this rooftop.

"No need to get all sappy on me, Bane. I truly don't give a shit. You'll learn sooner or later that love doesn't exist." I tell him as I watch Marines make their last rounds, vacating the village, that it's about time for Kane and I to leave as well.

"Slaughter." I address him over my shoulder, clearing my throat. "Your mistakes don't define who you are. It is what you do after you make them that matters."

I can't see Slaughter anymore, but I know he's having a moment. Because of this, I don't involve myself with getting attached to any girl. Grim is good at his job for a reason, and so am I. Emotionless creatures, strong-willed and dedicated to our careers.

But he gave in to his now wife and the life of a family man.

I will not. Not ever.

"Fuck, it's raining hard," Clark chimes in from my side, changing the tone of the conversation. Clark is a Navy SEAL on Zeke Akana's team. He's assisting Kane in giving me cover and joining the overwatch.

Chills prick at my skin, and I'm tempted to shiver. Something doesn't feel right.

Thunder strikes in the distance. The rain gets louder and more persistent. Strong winds hit my face, and I swallow the ominous dread on my shoulders.

Something is about to happen. I can feel it.

I've always had this sixth sense. I can sense if danger is about to unfold. I can tell if someone is good or bad. Just by looking at them and when they speak it just confirms this weird ability I have. And right now, alarm bells are going off, and I'm searching for it.

"How's the weather up there, boys?" Grim asks through comms.

"Sunny with clear skies." I sarcastically remark with a chuckle. Rain continues to fall harshly, and lightning strikes in the distance, flashing the village and Marines like a camera going off with a blinding flash.

"The rain isn't letting up," Lopez responds in the mic. Cobra and Texas are somewhere down there with the Marines.

Zeke and Kane engage in a conversation about the superbowl and who they think will win, and I'm tuning everyone out because I'm on high alert, looking at other streets, buildings, and trees. Anything.

I shift my scope, and my heart begins to pound, but still. I'm calm.

"Something's wrong," I whisper.

Kane and Zeke stop laughing and slowly move into silence.

"Nothing is wrong. We're almost done here, mission accompl–" Zeke begins but doesn't finish.

A loud pop sends my heart sinking. I know this sound too hauntingly well. A shot has been fired, and it's not from us. A Marine goes limp and falls to the ground, screaming in agony, causing chaos to spread. Everyone raises their rifles, and Kane hisses behind me, "What the fuck just happened?" Everyone covers while I clutch my sniper, trying my hardest to find the threat.

"We've got contact!" Grim shouts.

The way the Marine fell...I know what sound this is, and it's from another sniper.

"Everyone, take cover!" Zeke shouts. The marine holds onto his nearly severed leg, blood pouring out of his wound, and it leaves a bright red trail as he gets dragged to safety by Rooker.

I get to work, holding my damn breath, investigating every possible location.

"Where is this guy? He has to be far. It sounded far away." Kane asks from behind me, panic laced in his tone.

"I'll find him...I always find them." I deadpan. I'm focused, and the whole world gets tuned out. I can't hear the rain anymore. I can't hear the screams of an injured marine or the shouts of leadership.

I can't hear anything but my even-paced breathing.

As promised, I find him.

I see the enemy sniper. Yards away on another rooftop, and I grit my teeth. He's hiding underneath a built-in tent that blends in with the night and building. He has his sniper pointed at the marines below, smirking confidently, with his hand on the trigger about to take another one of the marines out, or he's going to finish the job. He's holding his breath and has his finger on the trigger, but so do I.

I send it.

The rifle recoils into my shoulder, thunder striking, and the silencer stops the ringing of what you would typically hear once a non-muzzled shot is fired into a warzone.

My eyes never leave his body. A flash of red sprays everywhere around him, and his rifle immediately falls to the ground along with his spiritless flesh and bones.

Humming the same tune, I always do when I get a kill confirmed, I whisper into the mics, "Target eliminated."

"Why do you hum the same song?" Kane asks softly, barely decipherable over the rain and thunder.

I tilt my head to the side and crack my stiff neck.

"Maybe one day, I'll share the story with you, loverboy."

"Great job tonight. I can't believe you found that sniper. You saved all those men tonight." Admiral Ravenmore crosses his fingers, intertwining them as he leans in his chair.

The mission is over. A job well done.

"Because of you, that marine who was shot gets to live another day. They all do."

I nod, not sure what to say. I'm not good at these things. I stand in a small office room in front of his wooden desk with neatly piled paperwork and one photo framed of him and his wife. We're back on base and returned safely after taking fire. I stand in my uniform, my half mask on, and my hands crossed behind my back.

Fuck, I'm tired. My uniform is still soaked from all that rain.

"Just following orders, sir...how is he doing?" I ask.

"He's stable. He might lose his leg, unfortunately."

I swallow the guilt forming in my chest. My hands turn into fists, and the demons start to scream. Even though I eliminated the threat, I failed. I failed because blood was spilled. I know shit happens, and it's out of my control.

But I like to be in control.

That's war.

Seven years in, four deployments later, I've learned and seen who the true monsters are in this world.

Humans.

They're people inflicting pain and evil on others because they can.

War is unforgiving, brutal, and, most of all, unfair.

"Grim left," He stands, walking towards a closed cabinet with a lock on it.

Damn, already? We just got back.

"I wasn't aware."

He plugs in a keycode, and the cabinet opens. A nice, tall, beautiful glass of bourbon sits there along with other whiskey bottles, sending my dry mouth-watering.

My favorite.

"Yeah, the team leader is gone. Grim is a family man now. He flew back home not too long ago after receiving word his wife was in labor, and he's rushed home. I still can't believe he married Paul Alvarez's sister." He shakes his head in disbelief. "Can you believe that shit? Danny Rider? Operator Grim Reaper, a husband and now father?"

I haven't known Danny Rider too long, but what I do know is he's the military's most lethal operator. Smart and cold, he embodies his operator name…Death.

After witnessing Kane get his shit kicked in at the military ball months ago, which was one of my favorite highlights of the year, I was unfortunately caught up on the drama that involved Paul, Ari, Danny, and Kane.

Paul was known as Operator Slayer. He was a Navy SEAL killed in action a few years ago during a mission that went wrong that Rider was in charge of. Operator Slayer's little sister, Ari, a nurse from Bloomings, has the reaper wrapped around her finger.

I take a deep breath, and my shoulders relax.

What does he want me to say?

I couldn't care less about Grim's personal life. Being married and having children has never piqued my interest.

Killing bad guys is what I live for.

I don't believe in love. I don't care for it.

Ravenmore pours himself a glass of bourbon with ice and then does the same with another one. He lifts it, offering me a drink. He clears his throat, waiting for me to take it.

"Thank you, sir,"

"It's well deserved after taking out multiple targets tonight. The sniper that never misses needs a drink." He collides his drink with mine. The glasses chime, and a smooth burn rolls down my throat in seconds. Ravenmore does the same, finishing it on two gulps.

Macallan Bourbon is my favorite.

"I called you in for a reason."

Another mission? Another evil that needs to be hunted?

I'm always game.

"What is it, sir?"

"I'm like the rest of you all. I like to keep my personal life private. Family is sacred, and as you're well aware, it's insinuated when you join special operations." He serves himself another glass of bourbon. "I have a daughter. She's in intelligence, and she's on a list. Now, Grim was my number one choice. But he's…not available. He told me to go fuck myself pretty much when I asked. He's a changed man now that he's married with twins."

"Where is this going, Ravenmore?" I retort, impatience riddled in between my words.

"She is set to deploy…and I need you on a different kind of assignment."

Shit.

I don't like this.

As Ravenmore explains what he needs from me, I know he's abusing his power by assigning me this kind of task. And because I'm a workaholic, I never say no.