Jesus Christ.
Now is not the time for this argument.
Another sniper round punches through the loading dock wall inches above our heads.
Concrete explodes everywhere.
Russ fires controlled bursts toward the entrance while Miles drags civilians deeper into cover near the office corridor.
“We’re losing the exit!” Lucas shouts.
He’s right.
The loading dock is becoming a kill box.
Outside, black-clad operators flood between vehicles with terrifying coordination.
One of them drops three militia fighters in under two seconds.
Headshots.
Clean.
Efficient.
My stomach tightens.
Not because they’re skilled.
Because they’re too skilled.
Who the hell are these people?
The militia commander ducks behind an armored truck outside the loading entrance while shouting rapid orders into a satellite radio.
He’s trying to escape.
No.
Absolutely not.
I rise slightly to take the shot—
And Hannah grabs my vest hard.
“Clay!”
I look down sharply.
Her eyes lock onto mine instantly.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for herself.
For me.
