Page 412 of Broken Oath

“I always do.”

“That is objectively untrue,” Fathom said.

Cobra ignored him.

The armored vehicle closed the distance.

One hundred yards.

Eighty.

Sixty.

Cobra attached the shaped charge to a broken section of metal railing.

Wade watched.

“Should I ask?”

“Probably not.”

“Good.”

Cobra adjusted the angle.

The charge wasn’t aimed at the armored vehicle.

It was aimed at a steel cargo container resting beside the runway.

Inside the container were heavy machine parts.

Dense.

Jagged.

Perfect.

Cobra pressed the detonator.

The charge exploded.

The container tore open.

A piece of metal shot across the runway and struck the armored truck’s damaged fuel tank.

Sparks erupted.

Fuel ignited.

The fire traveled beneath the vehicle.

The armored truck exploded.

Flames consumed the front of the enemy formation.

The vehicle lifted off the ground and rolled sideways.

Soldiers scattered.