PART 5
Within six minutes, I had four men face-down in the sand.
Two were zip-tied to a bumper.
Their commander was sweating through his shirt while I opened a locked case in the lead vehicle.
Inside were satellite phones.
Cash bundles.
Burner IDs.
And a black folder stamped with a contractor logo I knew too well.
Kestrel Ridge Security.
A private defense company that had spent three years getting rich from “border stabilization contracts.”
Contracts that somehow always required more funding.
More equipment.
More silence.
I opened the folder.
There was my name.
VASQUEZ, LENA M.
Under it:
LIABILITY REMOVAL — FIELD ATTRITION.
I laughed once.
Not because it was funny.
Because Webb had actually put murder in a spreadsheet.
The commander swallowed hard.
“I don’t know what that is.”
I looked at him.
“Then today’s your lucky day. You get to learn.”
His radio crackled.
Not through his network.
Through mine.
A voice came through, young and scared.
“Staff Sergeant Vasquez?”
Hurley.
I crouched beside the dead drone and adjusted the antenna.
“Sergeant Hurley,” I said. “You picked a rough time to grow a conscience.”
His breathing shook through the line.
“I didn’t know they were sending a cleanup crew.”
“But you knew they were leaving me.”
May you like
Silence.
That silence told the truth better than words.
