Chapter 6 - One Shot
Avery did not think of tin cans or Montana or her father’s fear. She did not think of Morse at the range or the way men stopped seeing her when she stood behind the supply counter. She did not think of what would happen if she missed.
She thought of Marcus’s hand reaching for Sullivan.
She thought of the gunner’s rhythm.
She thought of the cost of not acting.
The rifle settled.
She fired.
The shot cracked through the valley, sharper than the chaos around it. Downrange, the muzzle flash disappeared behind a burst of dust. For half a second, the battlefield seemed to inhale.
Then the radio came alive.
“Threat suppressed.”
Marcus moved.
He reached Sullivan, dragged him behind stone, and started working with both hands. Another operator threw smoke. Hayes shouted new positions. The SEALs, stunned for only a breath, adapted instantly. That was what made them dangerous. Once the impossible became real, they used it.
Avery worked the bolt again.
A second ridge flash appeared near a broken wall.
She adjusted.
Fired.
Dust swallowed the position.
“Second threat down,” someone called.
No body. No celebration. No time.
Just space.
Space for Marcus to work. Space for Sullivan to breathe. Space for Hayes to move the team out of the trap inch by inch.
Avery did not become fearless.
Her hands were steady because fear had somewhere useful to go.
When the armored vehicles finally pushed through the dust and helicopters dropped low over the valley, Hayes looked at her like he was seeing the supply window for the first time.
“Cole,” he said. “How many times have you done this?”
May you like
Avery kept scanning the ridge.
“Enough to know I don’t want to.”
