I never meant to become a thief. I was a soldier, then an advisor—fighting the war on drugs from the inside. But when Yovanna came to me, desperate, offering Lorea’s location for passage out, I saw a way to win. Not just for me, but for all of us who’d been left behind.

I called the brothers I trusted most: Redfly, Ironhead, Benny, Catfish. We were Delta once. Now we were broken, scattered, surviving in civilian life. I told them it was a government op. I lied.

We hit the house at noon. Family at church. Guards down. Money in the walls. More than we dreamed. Redfly’s eyes went wide—he didn’t want to leave. We argued, but we got out. Lorea ambushed us. I killed him. We burned the house. We drove away with a fortune.

Now we’re in the Andes. The chopper groans under the weight. Catfish says we won’t make it. Redfly won’t listen. And I can’t shake the feeling that we’re not escaping with the money.

We’re being buried by it.

The engine sputters. The peaks loom. And I have to decide—do we dump the cash and pray to fly, or keep it all and crash?