The Red Dot of Betrayal
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Craig spent the next two days calling families and warning them of the coming calls. Eventually, a mother reported a ransom demand and a cash drop in a park at midnight.
He watched a courier take the bag and disappear into the shadows of the city. Craig followed the signal on his phone, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
The GPS dot finally stopped at a rotting house in the “Golden Street” district. Craig’s blood ran cold as he recognized the sagging porch and the chipped blue paint.
The traitor wasn’t a high-ranking officer in a far-off office. He was the man Craig had shared a bunk with for months.
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