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A slight elevation change.
Barely visible.
I adjust around it.
No trigger.
Good.
“Scout,” Logan says, sharper now.
I pause instantly.
“What?”
“Right side. Tree line. Third position up.”
I shift my gaze.
Find it.
Nothing.
Then—
There.
A reflection.
Scope.
Not moving.
Watching.
“Sniper,” I confirm.
“Yeah.”
A beat.
“Not firing.”
“No.”
Because again—
Not the goal.
They don’t want us dead.
They want us—
Directed.
“Can you take it?” Logan asks.
I study the angle.
