Page 98 of Specter Bred

The truck jerked and swerved, Graves adjusting course as Cutter and Alvarez opened fire on the distractions, trying to pick them off. Their focus shifted, and that was our opening.

Hayes shoved a stack of flags into my arms.

"Go."

I ran low, cutting between barriers while the truck chased the decoys. My boots pounded dirt, lungs burning, every nerve sharp with adrenaline. At the next transfer point, I slid behind a concrete wall where Teller waited, breathless.

He shoved his flags into my arms.

"Move."

I did.

Again and again, the pattern repeated. Distractions broke cover. The truck followed. Instructors fired. The carriers moved quietly, hiding behind cover as flags changed hands. With every exchange, the pile in my arms grew heavier.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the instructors to catch on.

Over the roar of the convoy engine and the crack of training rounds, I heard Alvarez shout from the back.

"None of the recruits we’ve tagged have flags!"

Cutter cursed, scanning the field.

"Then where the fuck are all the flags?"

Graves’s voice cut through the chaos, calm and sharp.

"Someone’s collecting them."

He gripped the wheel tighter, eyes narrowing as he tracked the movement between obstacles.

"They’re passing them off, then breaking cover as decoys."

Cutter yelled, "Who’s carrying? Maybe Redwood?"

"I don't know. Don’t shoot," Graves ordered.

Both Cutter and Alvarez looked at him, confused.

"Watch," Graves ordered. "Track the movement. Find the flag runner."

"Fuck," I muttered.

"What?" Hayes whispered beside me, crouched low behind the barrier. He couldn’t hear their conversation without alpha senses.

"They know what we’re doing," I muttered. "They’ve stopped shooting because they’re looking for the flag runner."

Hayes glanced at the stack of flags in my arms, then back at me.

"Okay."

I frowned. "Okay, what?"

"Use me as cover."

"What?"

He leaned closer, voice low and steady despite the surrounding chaos.