Page 336 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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Just a minute.

Weapon across my lap.

Fire low.

Team resting in shifts.

I pull the patch from my pocket.

Turn it over again.

Black Division.

Ghost unit.

No rules.

No oversight.

Perfect enemy.

I think about Aspen.

About the Tavern.

About Ace standing watch.

About the promise I made.

I’ll come back.

I tighten my grip on the patch.

Because I don’t break promises.

Not like that.

Not ever.

Day five—

We get lucky.

Or they get sloppy.

Same difference.

A signal ping.

Short.

Encrypted.

But not perfect.

CIA picks it up.

“They’re moving again,” the agent says.

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