PART 6
I dragged myself out of the river and collapsed in mud under a sky full of stars.
Above the valley, the Blackhawk was gone.
Crowe would report equipment failure.
A fall.
A tragedy.
Poor Reeves.
Couldn’t handle the mission.
Just like her father couldn’t handle the truth.
I rolled onto my back and laughed once.
“Not tonight.”
The recorder in my vest was still blinking.
Waterproof.
Ironwolf never sent cheap toys.
Crowe’s confession was alive.
So was I.
That made two problems he had not planned for.
The river led east.
The extraction route led west.
The safe route led south.
So I went north.
Toward the caves.
Toward the place Crowe had actually come to protect.
By 0300, I was crawling above a goat trail with mud in my hair, blood on my sleeve, and one knife between me and a very bad morning.
Below me, two armed men smoked outside a cave entrance.
Not Taliban.
Contractors.
American boots.
May you like
American rifles.
American arrogance.
