Target one is one of our snipers, Paul.
A father. A husband. And a good fucking man.
It takes everything I have to hold myself still as Maverick glances our way.
Clinton doesn’t notice.
He’s too busy smiling at the screen.
“Watch,” he says proudly.
Maverick takes a step forward. His clenched fists the only sign of his emotions.
“Clinton,” he says quietly.
The man keeps watching the feed.
“Yeah?”
“Call them off.”
Clinton blinks.
“Why? Don’t you want your revenge?”
On the screen, the crosshairs settle. Perfectly centered on my friend’s head. Pulling out my phone, I send a quick message to Paul.
GET DOWN. SNIPER.
“Men, can you hear me?” Maverick says, voice sharp now. No warmth. No civility.
“Uh…yeah?” one of them answers through the feed.
“I am ordering you to stand down,” Maverick says. “I repeat. Stand down. Do not fire those weapons.”
“Boss?” David asks uncertainly.
“Ignore him,” Clinton snaps. “What the hell are you doing? These are the men responsible for your dead and injured. We can take half of them out before they know what’s happening.”
“Clint?” David says. “What are your orders?”
I watch the screen through the sniper scope camera as Paul pulls out his phone and looks down.
“Do your fucking job,” Clinton barks. “Call me when it’s finished.”
Paul’s eyes widen, and the feed cuts.
But not before the first shot cracks through the speakers.
And I lose my fucking mind.
All self-control gone…I move.
Clinton barely has time to turn before I slam into him. The chair goes flying. He hits the floor hard, the air exploding out of his lungs.
Maverick is on him a second later…brutal in a way I’ve never seen from him before.
His fist connects with Clinton’s jaw once. Twice. A third time, that sounds like bone cracking.
