Page 66 of Silent Target

Caleb could have killed him.

He chose not to.

Cobra crashes through the gate like controlled destruction. An enormous mercenary charges him, and they collide against a parked vehicle hard enough to dent its door.

Cobra remains standing.

The mercenary does not.

Fathom moves behind them, plugging small devices into exterior access panels. Cameras rotate away from Shadow Division. Electronic locks spring open. Radios fill with static.

Each man has a purpose.

Each trusts the others completely.

It’s beautiful.

Terrifying.

And impossibly efficient.

Gunfire tears through the trees below us.

Caleb remains motionless behind his rifle.

Watching.

Waiting.

His breathing never changes.

But blood continues spreading along his side.

“You need pressure on that wound.”

“I’m working.”

“You can bleed and work simultaneously.”

“I’m aware.”

I remove a compression bandage from his medical kit.

Before I can touch him, he catches my wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Preventing you from passing out.”

“I’m not going to pass out.”

“That’s wonderful. Hold still.”

For a moment, I think he’ll argue.

Then he returns his attention to the scope and raises his left arm enough for me to reach the wound.

I open his torn jacket.