Page 1 of Broken Trust
ONE
The war room hummed with the type of energy that only existed when things were breaking bad. Blue light from the monitors cut hard shadows across the faces of the men around the table—men Liam Mason knew better than his own family.
This was Blackout. The team didn’t exist on paper. The operatives had been declared dead, their files sealed and their families told they’d died serving their country. In a way, they had.
The men they’d been before didn’t exist anymore. No social security numbers, bank accounts or digital footprints.
Just ghosts who moved through the shadows, doing the work no one else could claim.
Some days the weight of the choice to join Blackout pressed down on Mason like a physical thing. Most days, he found ways to remind himself that men like him stood between the world and the monsters who’d burn it down without a second thought.
Intel scrolled across screens showing satellite imagery and intercepted communications, a world most people never saw. After three days in the trenches, they were all grubby and tired, yet riding the high of a successful op.
Sinclair, aka Sinner, propped his boots on the conference table and jerked his jaw toward the screens. “We keep pulling ops this clean, they’re gonna have to invent new medals just to keep up with us.”
“Dead men don’t accept medals, and Sinner sure smells like he’s dead.” Mason’s jab sent a ripple of laughter through thegroup. Dark humor kept them sane in a world that wanted them broken.
Mason leaned back in his chair, feeling the tendons in his shoulder groan. He’d driven it into a man’s gut, rolled through the momentum and tossed him clean over his back. The move left him aching, but the expression on his enemy’s face right before he breathed his last was worth any injury.
The room relaxed into the usual jokes and ribbing that came with the unshakeable certainty that the man next to them would take a bullet before he’d let the others fall.
He’d earned his place here. Bled for it. Died for it, at least on paper. But he’d never forget what he sacrificed to get a seat at this table.
His gaze drifted to the end of the table where their newest team member sat. His shoulders were rigid and his eyes were fixed on the screens. When everyone laughed, his lips twitched at one corner, but he didn’t smile.
Mason knew what Ash was going through. Before Ash signed on, Mason had been the rookie of the Blackout Charlie team. The position came with feelings of segregation and even resentment at times. But Ash had an advantage over Mason—he replaced a SEAL who left on medical. Mason’s replacement left in a body bag.
Still, Ash didn’t have it easy. If Mason heard the whispers around base, Ash did too.
Seven years behind a desk? Ash is a pencil pusher playing soldier.
Except if Ash didn’t have the skill set, he wouldn’t be sitting here.
“I saw Ash from the corner of my eye.” Sinner’s recounting of their mission made Ash’s head turn. “The guy was on him, and Ash pulled his knife.”
Sinner slapped a pocketknife on the table and gave it a nudge, sending it whizzing down the center of the table toward Ash. “You remember which end of this thing is which? Pointy end goes toward the bad guy.”
The room went quiet in that specific way that meant everyone was watching, waiting to see if the new guy would crack or crumble.
Ash stood without a word. Two knives materialized in his hands so quickly that Mason barely saw him pull them. In one fluid twitch of his wrists, both blades were airborne.
The first left his hand a split second before the second. The point buried deep in the corkboard on the far wall. The second buried itself so close to the first that they kissed with a ring of steel.
Ash sank to his seat again as if nothing happened.
Impressed, Mason caught his gaze and gave him a nod. “I know knives, and everyone better watch it. He could shave the hair off your nuts.”
Constantine, aka Con, pushed to his feet, positioning himself at the head of the table. Just like that, they were down to business.
The seriousness in Con’s expression said whatever came next wasn’t going to be as easy a win as the last op.
He swept the group in a weighted glance. “As you all know, our favorite terrorist, Cipher, has been silent since Steele shot him. That silence just ended.”
Steele’s lips compressed into a fine line that proved a war raged inside his teammate. Killing Cipher would have resulted in countless deaths around the globe.Notkilling him went against everything a SEAL was trained to do.
Cipher was damn near a ghost like the rest of them. He always seemed to be three moves ahead and continued to slip through their fingers more times than they liked to admit.
Con went on, “It’s been almost a month since we had a trail to follow. There are whispers in the underworld suggesting Cipher’s alive. Recently, we learned that a veterinary clinic was broken into and medical supplies stolen.” He pointed to a screen with a street view of the clinic. “The perpetrator disabled the cameras so his face was never recorded. But he stole supplies needed for an emergency field surgery.”
