LOGINWhen the mission ends, the real war begins. Captain Jack McCormack has lost everything that mattered. His partner, Lieutenant Michelle Richards, was killed during a covert operation in Iraq—her death a brutal reminder that even the best can fall. Months later, his ASIO team—friends, family in all but name—were systematically executed during a routine bonding session at a suburban paintball park. It wasn’t an accident. It was a message. Now isolated and hollowed out by grief, Jack tries to disappear into the shadows. But when a dangerous new synthetic drug called Supernatural starts flooding the city streets, he’s forced back into action. Jack knows this drug. He’s seen what it can do—what it did before, in a mission buried so deep it was meant to stay forgotten. With ASIO compromised and political forces tying his hands, Jack turns to the only people he can trust—his retired SAS brothers, elite operators with scars of their own. Together, they launch a black-ops investigation to uncover who’s behind Supernatural… and why the same shadows keep reaching into their past. But some ghosts aren’t just memories. Some are still alive.
View MoreThe Galleria – NightThe galleria was dark and echoing, lit only by flickering neon signs and the occasional security lamp. Jack’s team moved like shadows, weapons raised. Ahead, the lifts to the tower glowed—cold, white beacons beckoning them upward.“Clear,” Bruno whispered, sweeping his rifle across the marble floor.Pauly slipped away into the security room. The door clicked shut behind him.Inside, a dead guard slumped in his chair, throat cut clean. Pauly grimaced, shoving the body aside to focus on the bank of monitors. Two sentries at the lifts. Everything else—empty.He keyed his comms. “Two sentries at the lifts. Appears clear otherwise.”The GalleriaJack’s team fanned out. Overhead, security cameras swept the vast, empty floor.Suddenly—CRACK!Bruno and Sonja staggered, sniper rounds slamming into their chests—Kevlar absorbing the worst of it.“Sniper! Sniper!” Will shouted—A round punched through his skull. He crumpled without a sound.Jack dropped to his knees, cradlin
The sprinklers finally coughed to life, a fine mist settling over shattered glass and smoking carpet. Red strobes pulsed against the skyline, painting the room in emergency heartbeat.“Wolf, sweep the bodies,” Jack said, already moving. “Bruno—cordon the lift bank. If they’ve left a rear team, I want to know before they know I know.”Wolfgang toed a downed operator, rolled him. Unmarked plates, micro PTT taped under the collarbone, a throat mic spliced into a short-range relay. He plucked a coin-sized transceiver free and passed it to Pauly.“Same mesh as the Chinatown jammer,” Pauly muttered, turning it in his fingertips. “Short-hop, line-of-sight. Someone outside the building was the real brain.”“Michelle,” Sonja said, already cutting Heidi’s bindings clean. “Or whoever she’s answering to.”Heidi stood, jaw set, eyes on Jack. “We’re fine. Go.”Jack squeezed her shoulder once—gratitude, apology, promise—and looked to Alicia. “With Sonja. Safe House Beta.”Alicia’s voice didn’t quite
Police Compound – Storage Dock — Same TimeThe utility truck idled with a cat’s purr, hazard lights wink-winking against brick. A magnetic city-logo decal clung a shade too straight to the rear doors. Michelle stepped into the exhaust haze and scanned the length of the service lane—dumpsters, a chain-link gate, a blind bend to the street. Her people rolled the first PX-5 crate down the aluminum track, wheels thudding in perfect count: one-two-three-four, lift—one-two—push.“Jackson, you’re rear security. Roe, ride the lip. Nobody drops a million-dollar migraine,” she said, voice cool as tile.“Copy.”Heavy latches clacked. Ratchet straps sang. A second crate slid in beside the first with a hollow whummp that vibrated the truck’s frame. Condensation bled under the seals—sickly green, a heartbeat in vapor.“Jammer status?” Michelle asked without looking.“Solid,” Roe replied, tapping the small black brick strapped to his vest. “Blanketing UHF, VHF, GSM. We’re a rumor.”From deeper in th
Drug Factory – Outskirts, NightFloodlights carved vicious lines across the gravel perimeter, slicing the darkness into shards of white and black. Guard dogs snarled behind cyclone fences, teeth flashing as they lunged at every shadow. Armed sentries stalked the grounds of the isolated industrial facility, boots grinding over oil-stained concrete. Smoke belched from chemical vats, curling into the starless sky.Inside the main office, Phil Barker sat hunched over a cold steel desk, sweat glistening on his brow in the jaundiced glow of a flickering lamp. Across from him, a figure leaned back in a chair, face hidden in darkness. Only the glint of an army ring on his knuckles caught the light—cold and hard, like the voice that sliced the silence.UNSEEN MAN: “What is the report?”Phil swallowed hard, adjusting his cuffs. “The drug is in circulation. Distribution’s on schedule… but we lost a shipment.”A beat of stillness. The silence turned heavy, almost electric.UNSEEN MAN: “Then get i
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