No second guessing.
We cut across the ridge, angling toward thicker cover as the enemy advances.
“Three—no, five hostiles!” Jonah calls.
“I’ve got two!” Ronan says calmly.
Shots ring out from above.
Two drop.
But the rest—
They keep coming.
“They’re closing distance!” Lance warns.
I see it now.
This isn’t just pressure.
This is a push.
They’re trying to force us into close quarters.
Mistake.
“Hold the line!” I order.
We stop retreating.
Turn.
Engage.
Mila is beside me again, already firing—clean, controlled, deadly accurate.
One down.
Another.
She moves like she’s done this her whole life.
Like she was built for it.
A hostile breaks left—
I track him—
Fire—
He drops.
“Clear right!” I call.
“Left still active!” Mila snaps.
Then—
