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I recognize the voice.
Even through the noise.
Even through the haze.
“…Cross,” I mutter.
A figure drops in front of us—
Weapon up—
Eyes sharp—
Then he looks at Mila.
Really looks at her.
“…you must be the problem,” he says.
Mila blinks.
“…excuse me?”
I almost laugh.
Almost.
Mila
Another man movesin beside him—
Calm.
Controlled.
Assessing everything in seconds.
He looks at Jase—
Then at me—
Then back at the incoming threat.
“We’re not staying,” he says.
“We extract. Now.”
“Good plan,” I mutter.
Jase
They move fast.
Too fast for the enemy to adjust.
Covering fire.
Tight formation.
