The Joint Task Force Base felt different today, almost electric. My team and I walked through the long, sterile hallway toward the secured briefing room. The usual buzz of preparation and conversation was replaced by a heavy silence. Every step we took felt amplified against the quiet, the sound of our boots echoing off the walls.
As we passed through the base, I could feel the eyes of the soldiers on us. Conversations stopped when we walked by. I heard whispers, some too quiet to catch, others sharper:
"High-priority op."
"Is it really her?"
"Doubt it. She's a ghost."
"This is the one. We get this right, we're on the map."
The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. I couldn't help but feel the weight of their scrutiny. The whispers followed us down the hall, heightening the pressure with every step.
Sloan noticed it first. "They're either hyped... or about to piss themselves."
Logan, always perceptive, grumbled, "Hope they're not expecting us to babysit another extraction team."
I couldn't help but agree. The vibe in the air felt off like something big was looming.
I pushed open the door to the briefing room, and we snapped to attention immediately. At the head of the long table sat General Rafael Ortega, his gloved hands folded in front of him. His dark eyes were already on us, scanning each member of my team like an X-ray machine, sizing us up. He wore an all-black combat uniform, the sharp cut of it making him look every bit the part of the intimidating figure he was.
"At ease. Sit. You've all been briefed on high-value targets before. This one's different."
His voice was calm, but the weight of his words hit hard. I immediately felt the gravity of the situation.
"You're being pulled for Operation Gorgon—classified Level Alpha. Confirm understanding."
We all confirmed, a murmur of acknowledgment passing among the team.
"Primary objective: Capture a Tier-One international asset alive. Medusa. Codename only. You've all heard the stories. Now you'll help end them."
The room went deathly quiet. Medusa. The world's most wanted assassin. I had heard the stories before—whispers in the shadows, legends, myths. But the thought that she was real... that we were being tasked with bringing her down, made my gut tighten. The weight of Ortega's words was enough to freeze the air in the room.
He gestured to Nadia, who tapped a console next to her. Immediately, holographic projectors flickered to life, displaying the image of a silver snake mask and a black trench coat. The room seemed to breathe in collectively, all attention now on the projected images.
The screen showed a list of Medusa's kills—heads of state, warlords, syndicate bosses, all of them crossed off with chilling efficiency. The list went on, too long to fully take in. Known aliases were listed, but none were confirmed. The last confirmed sighting? Wyoming.
The chill in the room deepened. This wasn't just a mission—it was a reckoning.
Ortega didn't wait for anyone to speak. His voice hardened as he continued.
"This woman has destabilized regimes, assassinated officials, and cost us assets we can't replace. We do not fail."
As he spoke, the room grew even quieter, the air thicker with the pressure of the task ahead. Nadia's voice cut through the tension, her tone a sharp contrast to Ortega's hard delivery.
"But with your team's skill and precision," she added with a warm smile, "we're confident success is inevitable."
Ortega didn't acknowledge her attempt to soften the moment. His voice remained steady, unwavering. He leaned back slightly, his fingers tapping once on the table as his eyes fixed on me.
"Captain Brown," he said, the pause between the words heavy with meaning. "Your team was selected for this because I expect results. I also expect... discretion. I would prefer no civilian casualties and no information about the target to leave this room."
My back stiffened at the word, and I felt the weight of his gaze. I didn't flinch, but it took everything in me not to shift in my seat. I knew what he meant—he wasn't just testing our abilities, he was testing our loyalty.
Jasper added his own spin, stepping up with a barely contained air of self-importance.
"We've been tracking Medusa for years," he said, his voice tinged with arrogance. "This is the closest we've ever gotten. If you encounter civilian interference—contain it. We can't afford liabilities."
He glanced briefly at me, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"She's operating near Falkirk. This isn't random. She's hiding something. Someone."
He pressed harder than needed, and I noted it, but chalked it up to his usual arrogance—not yet anything personal.
Ortega leaned forward, his voice firm again.
"What kind of intel do we have on recent activity?" I asked, trying to mask the anxiousness in my voice.
"Satellite pings. Energy signatures tied to System anomalies. Nothing public. But we've got six missing persons reports that match Medusa's MO. Unconfirmed," Ortega said.
I nodded grimly. "Understood."
"The mission will commence next Friday at the Falkirk Mall. Until then, you'll receive updates on movement and intelligence. Dismissed."
The finality of his words rang in my ears. His gaze swept over us one last time, lingering on me for just a second longer. I couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a mission for him. It was a test—one we hadn't yet passed.
We stood in unison, the briefing now over. As we turned to leave, the door slid open, and I could feel the weight of the room pressing down on me. Ortega wasn't just watching us for this mission. He was measuring us for something more.
The hallway outside felt different as we made our way down it. The low buzz of base activity surrounded us, but I couldn't shake the feeling that we were being watched. Ortega's eyes had felt like more than just a scan—they had been testing us, probing for weaknesses.
"That guy's a monster," Logan muttered under his breath as we walked.
"Yeah," Sloan added, glancing back at the door. "He doesn't miss a thing."
I said nothing, my mind reeling with the information we'd just received. The moment Ortega said, "near Falkirk," something cold slid into my gut.
Falkirk. Jasmine's home. Jasmine and the kids.
But… No. Jasmine isn't involved in this.
Jasmine is a mystery, sure. She's got secrets. Big ones.
My gut tells me Jasmine's not a typical single mom or farm owner. The security on that property is military-grade. And some of the people I've met at Jasmine's place—people she calls friends—are former criminals. Probably the cartel, gangsters, or mercs. Hell, I even recognized one guy who'd done time in Leavenworth before going MIA.
But that didn't scream international assassin. That screamed shady favors or maybe covering for friends who want a clean start. Small crimes. Not global terrorism.
I've been waiting for Jasmine to tell me the truth. I'm giving her time because Jasmine's good.
I've seen how she is with her kids. I've seen how she mentors the troubled teens who hang around the bar and farm. I've seen her kindness, patience, and control.
But now…
Now, there's a global-class assassin somewhere near Jasmine's town. And that puts Jasmine—and her family—at risk.
I clench my jaw, a deep protective instinct flaring.
"Whatever Jasmine's mixed up in… I'll keep her and the kids safe. She'll tell me when she's ready."
For now, though, my focus has to be on the mission. They're hunting Medusa. And I have no idea how close things are about to get.
The elevator doors slid shut, and I pressed the button. As we descended, my thoughts drifted to the team, to Ortega, and the ever-present shadow of Jasper. His smirk had been barely restrained during the briefing, and I knew he was thinking of this mission as more than just a job. But it wasn't just him. It was Nadia, too. The sweet but calculating assistant who had once been a part of the very betrayal that had torn apart my marriage.
I glanced briefly at Logan, his expression unreadable, and then to the rest of my team. This mission was going to test us all. I didn't know how close to home it would hit, but I was about to find out.