Page 2 of Pretend
DAEGAN
THREE MONTHS AGO
I becamea 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.
