We poured out of our hide, boots hitting the ground with the soft, practiced rhythm we’d honed since dropping out of the sky, firmly in place. We moved in pairs, low and quiet, advancing on our target without losing our line of sight.
Marcus and Dom peeled off for elevation, climbing high to provide overwatch. Sammy and Jason split off to the left. Josh and Parker continued forward, Josh adjusting his pack as he moved, double- and triple-checking his kit as he moved.
“Looks like you drew the short stick,” I joked, following Chris to the right, widening our net.
“Try not to be an idiot,” he muttered.
“Can’t make any promises,” I said, joking a second time. He didn’t take the bait either time.
At the end of the alley, we paused. Our target stood outside his building like he didn’t have a care in the world. Where he’d been, how he got back into the compound without the team seeing him, escaped me.
“Echo Two and Four have overwatch. Target appears clueless about what’s coming his way,”Marcus said.
This voice lived inside my skull. Even months of rolling with these guys, listening to them through our comms unit, it unnerved me in a way I couldn’t explain.
Stretching.
Checking his phone.
Lighting a cigarette.
“How’d this fucker get past us?”Sammy asked.
“What’s it matter?”Dom asked.
“He’s alone,”Jason muttered.
“For now,”Parker said.
Forty-eight hours of rotting in place for this asshole to sneak past us, only for him to step out of the building to take a stroll through the marketplace.
“He must’ve needed some fresh air,” Chris murmured.
I nodded, inching forward. All of us followed the guy as he moved through the town. Even under the cover of darkness, there were vendors out on the streets. Our guy paused at a fruit stand, speaking with the man behind the table before moving off.
Everything appeared normal.
Too normal.
The man meandered through the streets and shops. Then a kid on a bicycle cut between him and us, circling through the market. He looked straight at Parker, then over his shoulder toward Sammy and Jason, then toward Chris and me.
Then at the target, before he pedaled off. Fast.
The target’s posture changed instantly.
Shoulders tight.
Head up.
Cigarette dropped.
No warning. No obvious compromise. Just a look from the kid, and he bolted like someone had fired a starter pistol.
“Move,” Parker ordered.
We surged forward, keeping him in sight but not closing too fast. Civilians scattered as he shoved through them. He wasn’t just running. He was heading somewhere.
Marcus said from above,“Y’all watch your sixes. This guy knows these streets. He may be navigating blind, but there’s no hesitation.”
