PART 5
Riley was busy.
Through her scope, the valley narrowed to movement, angles, dust, and threat.
She ignored the heat crawling up her spine.
Ignored the bruise forming under her shoulder.
Ignored the fact that every shot made her location less mysterious.
There were too many of them.
And now they were beginning to understand the same thing.
The main body stopped pushing us.
Twenty fighters peeled away from the wadi and began moving toward her ridge.
Beckett saw it first.
His jaw tightened.
“They found her.”
Evans stared at him.
“Her?”
Beckett didn’t answer.
Maybe he heard something in the silence between transmissions.
Maybe war has a way of telling you when the person saving your life is standing completely alone.
He pointed toward the base of the ridge.
“Suppress that climb.”
Evans looked at our nearly empty ammo.
“With what, harsh language?”
Beckett shoved him a half-empty bandolier.
“Start with that.”
Down below, the fighters changed direction.
Up above, Riley Harper pulled back from her scope and allowed herself one dry smile.
“Well,” she muttered, “now it’s rude.”
Then she adjusted position.
Slow.
Careful.
Controlled.
Not because she wasn’t scared.
Because panic wastes movement.
She saw the first group begin climbing through the rocks.
Eight men.
Then six more behind them.
They were spreading wide now, trying to flank her.
Smart enough to be dangerous.
Then her radio hissed in her ear.
“Unidentified shooter, this is Raven TOC. You are ordered to cease fire and identify.”
Riley ignored it.
A fighter below lifted a radio.
She fired.
He dropped.
The voice from TOC sharpened.
“Unknown asset, you are not authorized in that grid. Cease engagement immediately.”
Riley chambered another round.
“Romeo Two-Zero has wounded and no ammo,” she said.
There was a pause.
Then a colder voice came back.
“Identify yourself.”
May you like
Riley’s eye stayed in the scope.
“Chief Petty Officer Harper.”
