PART 1
CHAPTER ONE
HUDSON
Hudson Hale had earnedthe right to be here.
That was what he kept telling himself, standing at attention in freezing Montana while the wind came off the peaks in long, flat gusts that found every gap in his gear. Mountains pushed up on three sides, looming over him with a complete indifference to his ambitions.
Four years in the Army. Six months of pre-Selection. Three rounds of physical testing and a psych eval where some guy had asked him, with a straight face, whether he heard voices. He had even broken up with his girlfriend, Julie, upon coming here.
He’d made it. He was focused. He was ready.
So were twenty-nine other soldiers freezing their balls off. Thirty candidates in total. Twenty spots by the end of Selection. Hudson had never been particularly great at math, but even he knew those were pretty decent odds.
Master Sergeant Chen paced the line without looking at anyone directly. Broad-shouldered and in his mid-fifties, with the kind of thousand-yard stare that made you wonder what he’d seen. His boots hit the frozen mud in thesame measured rhythm every step, as if he had all the time in the world.
“Listen up.” Chen’s voice carried without him raising it. “You wouldn't be standing here if you weren’t among the best.” His eyes swept the line. “But that means dick. Ten of you will still fail.”
Hudson kept his breathing steady, shoulders squared but not stiff, hands loose at his sides.
Still, decent odds.
"Twelve weeks," Chen continued. “Only the top twenty get special ops assignments. Delta. Special Forces. 160th SOAR.” His lips tightened into a straight line. “Assignments thatmatter."
Hudson wanted top twenty.
Except that was a lie—he wanted top three.
No. Screw it—he wanted to be number one.
Badly.
He'd spent four years working toward this, and he wasn't about to settle for second-tier assignments because he couldn't handle twelve weeks of pressure.
Chen’s voice dropped. "This is not Basic Training. This is not Ranger School. This is not me holding your hand while you figure out if you’ve got what it takes.” His gaze cut across them. "Selection starts now. Any questions?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Good. Let’s move on.”
Chen stepped back, and Sergeant Kowalski stepped forward. He was shorter than Chen but twice as intimidating, with a Chicago accent and a face that instantly made you want to stand up straighter.
“Navigation exercise. Four hours. Teams of two. You have one map: figure it out," Kowalski announced, glancing at his clipboard. “When your name is called, step to the side and get your gear.”
Too focusedon his own name being called, Hudson barely processed the pairings.
“Lieutenant Hale. Lieutenant Shaw."
Hudson's head snapped up.
A guy two spots to his left stepped forward at the same time he did. He was tall, about Hudson’s height but leaner, dark hair cut short, defined profile. Everyone around him was fighting the cold in some small way, but this guy didn’t seem to.
They fell into step beside each other without a word, heading toward the table where Chen was handing out materials. The mud crunched under their boots.
“Hale,” Hudson said, extending his hand.
The guy shot him a brief, dismissive look. “Shaw.”
Hudson waited for more. A hand. A first name maybe. A nod. Something.
Nothing came.
