Page 308 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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94

Havoc

Iturn the patch over in my hand.

Black.

Worn.

Not decorative.

Not symbolic.

Functional.

Which means it matters.

The stitching is clean.

Precise.

Military-grade.

But it’s the insignia that locks my focus.

A split triangle.

Broken down the center.

With a thin line running through it.

I’ve seen it before.

Not in the field.

Not officially.

Which is exactly the problem.

Behind me, the CIA agent exhales slowly.

Too slowly.

Like he already knows what this is.

“Say it,” I tell him.

He doesn’t answer right away.

I wasn’t surprised.

Because whatever this is—

It’s not something he wants out in the open.

I don’t turn.

Don’t look at him.

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