The Judas Cradle

By Choose An Ending - Interactive

They called him the ghost in the machine. Now, he's the only one who can stop the fire.

Chase "Clean Shot" Bennet isn't just a sniper. With 217 confirmed kills, he's a strategic asset, a record-holding instrument of precision deployed when the world is at its most fragile. When diplomacy fails and armies dare not move, they send Bennet.

His new target is General Dmitri Volkov. A hardline nationalist who has seized control of a nuclear arsenal in Eastern Europe, Volkov's coup threatens to ignite a conflict that will consume continents. All official channels are closed. All options are exhausted.

Except one.

Deployed on a solo, unsanctioned mission that his own government will deny, Bennet must infiltrate hostile territory alone. Evade Volkov's elite hunters. Navigate a landscape where every shadow could hold a threat. And make the single most critical shot in history—a shot that stands between peace and nuclear fire.

But this mission is different. With no backup, no support, and no hope of rescue, Bennet's legendary patience and skill will be tested like never before. Every choice he makes—from his path through the forest to the allies he trusts—will dictate the global outcome.

In the crosshairs of destiny, will he become the silent hero who saved the world, or its forgotten sacrifice?

The Judas Cradle is a relentless, immersive military thriller that plunges you into the high-stakes world of a lone operative facing an impossible choice. Perfect for fans of Vince Flynn, Brad Thor, and the tense, tactical action of the Sniper Elite video game series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Choose An Ending - Interactive
• Release date: Dec 15, 2025
• ISBN: 9798232277383

Book preview

Scene 1

The wind screamed past at terminal velocity as Chase 'Clean Shot' Bennet plummeted through the darkness at twenty-five thousand feet. Below, the patchwork landscape of Eastern Europe spread like a tactical map rendered in shadows and scattered lights. His oxygen mask fogged with each controlled breath, the HUD display in his goggles tracking altitude, wind speed, and the rapidly approaching drop zone with mechanical precision.

Two hundred and seventeen confirmed kills. Twelve years of service across four continents. Zero failed missions. The numbers ran through his mind like a mantra, a reminder of what separated him from the corpses he'd left in his wake—precision, discipline, and an almost supernatural patience. Tonight would add to that count, or it would end it permanently.

The mission briefing had been sparse, delivered in a windowless room in Langley by people whose names he'd never know. General Dmitri Volkov—hardline military commander, nationalist zealot, and as of seventy-two hours ago, the man with his finger on enough nuclear warheads to turn half of Europe into radioactive ash. Diplomatic channels exhausted. Sanctions meaningless. Military intervention impossible without triggering the very war they sought to prevent. Which left one option: a surgical strike. One man. One shot. One chance to stop World War III before it started.

No support team. No backup. No official acknowledgment if things went sideways. The mission didn't exist, which meant neither did he. He'd signed on for black ops before, but this was something else entirely—a razor's edge between hero and ghost, between salvation and damnation.

His altimeter beeped. Fifteen thousand feet. Time to start thinking about the canopy. The landscape below clarified as he dropped through the cloud layer. Forest, mostly, with a river snaking through the terrain like a silver scar. His target area: a clearing two kilometers from the nearest village, four kilometers from Volkov's outer security perimeter. Intel suggested the general was holed up in a former Soviet command bunker, surrounded by layers of security that would make Fort Knox look like a convenience store.

Ten thousand feet. He pulled his ripcord. The drogue chute deployed with a crack that he felt in his bones, followed by the main canopy blossoming above him. The violent deceleration always felt like God's fist slamming into his chest, but he'd made over a hundred jumps. His body knew the rhythm, even if it never stopped hurting.

The ground rose to meet him as he guided the canopy toward his LZ. Trees resolved into individual shapes, shadows deepening into canyons of darkness. He could see the clearing now, a wound in the forest canopy that looked far too small for comfort. His hands worked the toggles with practiced efficiency, bleeding off altitude and adjusting for the crosswind that tried to push him off course.

Five hundred feet. Three hundred. The tree line rushed up at him. He flared hard, felt his boots kiss earth, and rolled with the impact. The canopy collapsed behind him, whispering against the grass like a dying breath. He was down. He was alive. And somewhere in the darkness ahead, General Dmitri Volkov was waiting to die—he just didn't know it yet.

Chase shed his jump gear with practiced efficiency, burying the evidence in a shallow cache he'd excavate on exfil—if there was an exfil. His rifle came out next, a custom M24 SWS that had been with him for six years and ninety-three kills. He assembled it by touch in the darkness, each piece sliding into place with the certainty of old lovers reuniting. Scope. Suppressor. The weight of it in his hands felt like coming home.

The forest waited. Volkov waited. And Chase 'Clean Shot' Bennet, the ghost who didn't exist, began to move.

Ahead, two paths diverged through the darkness. Intelligence had marked both routes as viable, each offering different advantages and challenges. The northern route would take him through denser forest—better concealment, slower movement, but approaching the bunker from an angle with fewer observation posts. The eastern route followed the river valley—faster progress, more exposed, but intelligence suggested a potential ally in a village along the way, a former asset who might provide critical updated intel on Volkov's security.

What would you do now?

1. Take the northern forest route for maximum concealment

2. Follow the eastern river valley to reach the potential contact

Choice 1

Choice 2

Scene 2

Clear the room first. That was basic doctrine—eliminate all threats before focusing on the primary objective. Volkov wasn't going anywhere, and rushing to confirm his death while guards might still be hiding in corners was exactly the kind of mistake that got operators killed in the final moments of successful missions.

I swept the command center with methodical precision, checking every position where a threat might be concealed. Behind consoles, under desks, in the shadows where emergency lighting didn't quite reach. Two more guards revealed themselves during the sweep, dying before they could engage. A staff officer who might have been reaching for a weapon also died—I couldn't take chances, not this close to completion.

Volkov watched me work, his breathing becoming more labored with each passing minute. The general was dying—that much was certain—but dying men could still cause damage if they had the will and the means. My sweep was as much about ensuring he couldn't trigger anything as it was about eliminating hidden guards.

Thorough, Volkov said as I completed my circuit of the room. Very thorough. Your trainers would be proud.

They trained me to finish what I start.

And you will. I can see that now. He shifted slightly, wincing at the pain. The contingencies I mentioned... they were real, once. But I disabled them three days ago, when I realized that negotiation was still possible. I never intended to use these weapons. I just needed the threat to force your government to the table.

And the threat got you killed instead.

Yes. Volkov's eyes closed for a moment. The irony isn't lost on me. I created a situation so dangerous that your people had no choice but to send someone like you. And now here we are.

The room was clear. No more threats, no more contingencies, nothing between me and the confirmation that would end this mission. I approached Volkov with my rifle ready, prepared for any