Brother Shadow

The moon hung low over the jagged mountain ridge, its pale glow guiding Marcus and the others as they climbed out of the narrow river gorge. Their clothes clung heavy and drenched, boots slipping on wet rocks as they pulled themselves upward. The climb was brutal—no path, no markers, just instinct and grit. By the time they reached the ridge, all four were exhausted, breaths white in the freezing desert air. The wind cut like knives, sweeping across the barren landscape. The world around them was silent, no signs of life, no hint of civilization. Just endless mountains and black sky. Aria exhaled sharply, rubbing her arms. “You said Ghost Squadron was here. I’m starting to think they’re a myth.” Marcus stared ahead, expression unreadable. “They’re here. And they’re watching us right now.” Eli shivered, glancing at the shadows between the rocks. “Watching? From where? I don’t see anything.” “That’s how you know they’re good,” Jax muttered. Then—a sudden metallic click echoed in the darkness. Aria froze. “Don’t move.” A red laser sight appeared on Marcus’s chest, then another on Aria, then Jax, then Eli. Four dots. Four rifles aimed from unseen positions. A voice boomed from somewhere above them. “Marcus Kane. You’re trespassing.” Marcus stepped forward slowly, hands raised. “I need to speak with Commander Wraith,” he said. “Tell him it’s about Stratos.” A long silence followed. The wind howled through the rocks. Then the voice replied: “Wraith is dead.” Marcus’s jaw tightened, pain flashing across his face. “When?” he asked softly. “Two years ago. After the Syria operation. He named a successor.” Footsteps echoed as figures emerged from the darkness—six operators in matte-grey armor, rifles trained steady. Their movements were silent, precise, deadly. The lead soldier removed his helmet, revealing a hardened face with sharp steel-blue eyes and scars slashing across his brow. “Captain Rook,” Marcus said. “You’re in command now.” Rook studied Marcus coldly. “You left us, Kane. Walked away. We don’t take kindly to deserters.” Aria stepped toward him. “He didn’t desert. He was saving his brother’s life.” Rook’s eyes shifted to Eli, then back to Marcus. “You expect sympathy? You know the rules. No one leaves Ghost Squadron.” Marcus didn’t flinch. “I’m not asking for forgiveness. I’m asking for help.” “Help with what?” “Stopping the Stratos launch. Raine is activating the weapon. Eli is the biological key. If they complete the sequence at dawn, the world changes forever.” Rook’s expression turned dark, calculating. “We’ve heard rumors. Satellite anomalies. Scrambled transmissions. But nothing solid.” Marcus tossed the encrypted data drive to Rook. The captain caught it reflexively, spinning it once in his fingers. “Everything you need to know is on that,” Marcus said. “Blueprints, targets, launch timetable. We don’t have time to argue.” Rook stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Even if I believe you—why should we risk our lives for yours?” Marcus’s tone shifted—deep, cold, unwavering. “Because Raine killed Wraith. And he’s building a world where Ghost Squadron has no place. You think he wants control? He wants obedience. He wants to choose who survives.” Silence. Rook’s jaw flexed, anger simmering beneath the surface. Then Rook nodded once. “You want our help? Prove you still belong.” Two soldiers stepped forward, throwing a combat blade at Marcus’s feet and clearing a flat circle in the dirt. Aria tensed. “Rook, this isn’t—” Marcus raised a hand to stop her. “What’s the challenge?” he asked. Rook nodded toward a towering operator stepping into the circle—massive, armored, face like carved granite. “Trial by steel,” Rook said. “Defeat Titan. No weapons. No mercy. If you can still survive a Ghost trial, we’ll follow you into hell.” Eli’s breath caught. “Marcus, don’t—” Marcus picked up the blade, spinning it once in his hand. His voice was low and deadly calm. “I already live there.” --- The c

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