STRATOSPHERE ABOVE THE NORTH ATLANTIC — 02:20 AM
The C-130 Ghost Raven shook like a wounded beast as it flew through the storm. Lightning lit up the sky, showing three figures standing at the open ramp. The wind howled into the hold, carrying ice and salt.
Aris Van Thorn stood at the edge, his night-vision goggles turning the world green. Below, through clouds, the ocean churned, a dark pit eager for bones.
"Drop zone in 60 seconds!" Nyx's voice crackled in his earpiece. The hacker was already syncing their heads-up displays to the Leviathan's coordinates.
"Remember, Atticus's guards have thermal scopes. Hit the water silent and deep."
To Aris's left, Rook adjusted his oxygen mask. He was a tall man, a former Spetsnaz soldier whom Aris had helped escape from a Mongolian prison. To his right, Wraith checked her chute lines. She moved like smoke, an assassin he had recruited. They both knew tonight's mission: Get Silas or drown trying.
Aris held his nanny's locket under his wetsuit. "Soon, justice will be served," he said.
"GO! GO! GO!"
Rain poured down not as drops but as sharp ice, hitting the C-130's fuselage like a thousand frantic fists. Lightning split the night, freezing the chaos in place. Turboprop blades twisted against hurricane winds. Clouds churned like boiling pitch.
Ocean waves far below snapped at the void, dark and liquid. The wind howled through the open ramp, not a howl but a war cry. It clawed at Aris's gear, trying to rip off his vest, his weapons, his resolve. He braced against the bulkhead, his boots slipping on the slick steel.
Aris's night-vision goggles painted the world a sickly green. Lightning flashed, blinding him for a half-second. He tasted ozone and salt, sharp as blood, cold as the grave.
"Wind shear! Hold position!" Nyx's voice crackled, disrupted by static.
Below, the Crimson Leviathan appeared and disappeared, a sinister red spot in the dark sea. One moment it was visible, the next it was swallowed by the clouds. A steel scarab bristled with guns. Rook cursed, his knuckles white on a support strap. Wraith stood ready at the edge, her silhouette sharp against the storm. Rain ran down her black mask like tears.
Aris held his grandfather's tanto, thinking the storm was not an obstacle but an ally.
Chaos to hide their fall.
Noise to mask their chutes.
Rage to match his own.
He touched his nanny's locket beneath his wetsuit.
Lightning flashed again.
In that instant, he saw it:
A gap in the clouds.
A path.
A reckoning.
"JUMP!"
They leaped. Three shadows were consumed by the night. Freefall felt violent. Wind tore at Aris's gear as he shot downward, rain stinging his exposed skin. He spread his arms to stabilize. The plane disappeared above, leaving only the howl of the void.
Aris, Rook, and Wraith fell. The wind howled. Rain sliced sideways, icy needles against their helmets. The world was chaos: black clouds, lightning strikes, and the ocean below a churning abyss.
<< THERMAL SWEEP DETECTED >> flashed on Aris's display.
The Crimson Leviathan was on the hunt.