Chapter 3
The A-10 Warthog dropped into the canyon like a storm with wings.
It screamed between the walls so low that dust and loose rock blasted over the SEALs.
Every man ducked.
Even the enemy stopped firing for half a heartbeat.
The aircraft passed overhead, gray and scarred, its wings rocking between the cliffs.
Emily’s voice came through the radio.
Cold.
Focused.
“Get low. East ridge first.”
Mercer’s eyes widened.
Briggs whispered, “Who the hell is flying that thing?”
Inside the cockpit, Emily lowered the nose.
Her thumb found the trigger.
The GAU-8 began to spin.
The sound came a fraction before the destruction.
Not gunfire.
A roar.
A metal scream that tore through the canyon and shook every chest below.
The east ridge disappeared in dust and fire.
Enemy fighters who had been laughing seconds earlier were thrown backward from their positions.
Rocks split.
Weapons shattered.
The entire cliffside seemed to cave in on itself.
The SEALs stared upward in stunned silence.
Then Mercer shouted, “Move! Move now!”
The team dragged the wounded behind a deeper rock shelf as Emily banked hard through the canyon.
Her aircraft shuddered.
Warning alarms shrieked in her ears.
The canyon walls filled her vision.
Too close left.
Too close right.
No room for error.
Overlord shouted, “Hayes, pull out! You are below safe altitude!”
Emily’s eyes stayed locked on the next ridge.
“Negative.”
“Major, you are out of fuel margin.”
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“Then I’ll make this quick.”
Read Part 4 to see why the enemy commander stopped laughing.
