PART 3
The Rangers reacted fast.
They dove behind roots, rocks, and fallen trees.
Rudd shouted positions into the radio.
Staff Sergeant Ben Carver dragged Grant behind cover while bullets ripped the ground where he had been seconds before.
Ava and Holt were separated from the main squad by distance, terrain, and the cruel shape of the ambush.
Through her scope, Ava saw what the Rangers below could not.
Three enemy elements.
Maybe fifty fighters.
Maybe more.
The first blocked the trail ahead.
The second had slipped behind them.
The third held the high ground to the west.
It was not random.
It was disciplined.
Timed.
Patient.
Whoever planned it had waited until the Rangers stepped into the ravine.
Then he closed every door.
Holt ranged the closest movement.
“Four hundred meters. Maybe five. North side. Multiple targets.”
“Not first,” Ava said.
He looked at her.
“What?”
“They’re not first.”
The radio screamed with overlapping voices.
“Reloading!”
“They’re moving left!”
“Raven, we need fire now!”
Then Rudd’s voice cut through.
“Stroud, if you have eyes, I need suppression north. They’re about to overrun us.”
Ava did not answer.
Her scope moved past the obvious targets.
Past the men firing from the trees.
Past the visible threat.
She searched a ridge almost hidden behind fog.
Then she saw it.
A flash.
Not muzzle fire.
Metal.
“Holt,” she murmured. “West ridge. High shelf. Eleven o’clock from Rudd’s position.”
Holt adjusted his scope.
Then cursed under his breath.
“I barely see it.”
May you like
Ava’s voice stayed calm.
“Machine gun team.”
