Page 73 of Scars of Fate

Hawk lay prone behind a broken ledge, firing measured shots toward the enemy below.

He never rushed.

Never wasted ammunition.

Every time his rifle spoke, another fighter stopped advancing.

“Status?” Adam asked.

“Three moving along the eastern wall. Two behind the ridge. One trying to flank us through the wash.”

“Trying?”

Hawk fired.

The shot echoed between the mountains.

“Not anymore.”

I dropped beside him and scanned the trail.

The enemy fighters moved differently now.

Slower.

More carefully.

They had learned what happened when they rushed the Brave.

“They’re buying time,” I said.

Adam studied the valley.

“For what?”

I adjusted my scope.

Then I saw him.

A man crouched behind a rock nearly four hundred yards away.

He wasn’t advancing.

He wasn’t firing.

He held a radio in one hand and binoculars in the other.

The binoculars weren’t directed at us.

They were pointed toward the extraction site.

“He’s watching the civilians.”

Hawk shifted his scope.

“I see him.”

“Don’t shoot.”