Page 162 of Broken Oath

“Three shooters west. Two near the fuel-storage fence. Movement above the northern repair building.”

“Take the high ground.”

“With pleasure.”

Sniper’s rifle cracked.

A silhouette disappeared from the roof.

Rook looked toward Cutter.

The retired captain had taken cover behind a marine engine block near the center dock.

“Sam, your people?”

“Evacuating through the southern workshop.”

“Can you secure the exit?”

Cutter fired toward the ridge.

A mercenary stumbled backward into the snow.

“Already doing it.”

Rook returned his attention to the woman.

She crouched beside him with her back against the winch.

Her breathing remained steady.

Too steady.

No panic.

No hesitation.

No surprise.

As though she had expected the attack from the moment her boat entered the harbor.

No.

Not expected.

Prepared for it.

“You knew they were coming,” Rook said.

“I knew they were close.”

“How close?”

She leaned around the winch and fired twice.

A man near the northern repair building dropped.

“That close.”