The assault helicopter cut through the night air, its engine a relentless, deafening pulse that rattled the fillings in my teeth. I was fully geared—Kevlar, suppressed primary, and a cold, absolute certainty in my eyes. Paros was directly ahead, a dark, mountainous silhouette waiting to swallow us whole.

My eyes were glued to the tablet fixed to the bulkhead. It showed only a blank space where Ivan’s encrypted locator beacon should have been pulsing. Three hours ago, I had ordered my most ...