MARCUS REED FALL

6 Months Earlier – Fallujah, Iraq

The desert sun beat down mercilessly on the convoy, heatwaves shimmering off the rocky terrain. Inside the armored vehicle, Marcus Reed adjusted his helmet, scanning the horizon with sharp, experienced eyes. The mission briefing had been straightforward: escort high-ranking officials to a nearby base for classified talks. But something about it felt wrong to him. There was an itch at the back of his mind, a feeling that had saved his life more times than he could count.

“This doesn’t sit right,” Marcus muttered under his breath, gripping the handle of his rifle tightly.

Daniel Cross, his second-in-command and closest friend, glanced at him from the driver’s seat. “You’ve got that look again.”

Marcus frowned. “It’s too quiet. No local traffic, no shepherds... nothing. We should’ve seen movement by now.”

Daniel shrugged, trying to brush off Marcus’s concern. “Maybe it’s just one of those days.”

Marcus wasn’t convinced. “No such thing. This area is alway
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