Chapter 7
The shot cracked through the alarm.
The drone burst apart above the water in a flash of smoke and spinning debris.
The deck went silent.
The alarm kept wailing for three more seconds.
Then it stopped.
No one cheered at first.
They just stared.
At the smoke in the distance.
At the disabled boat drifting harmlessly in the waves.
At Meera still kneeling beside the Barrett.
Calm.
Breathing steady.
Her hand still on the rifle Raskin had called dead weight.
Mercer lowered his radio.
His voice was rough.
“Threat neutralized.”
The first cheer came from a young Marine near the rail.
Then another.
Then the whole deck erupted.
But Meera did not smile.
She looked at Raskin.
He was pale now.
Smaller somehow.
The ocean wind tugged at his uniform, but he no longer looked powerful.
He looked exposed.
Mercer stepped toward him.
“Sir, you ordered her to stand down.”
Raskin’s face snapped toward him.
“I was following protocol.”
“You ignored the only specialist on deck.”
“I had command responsibility.”
“And she saved the ship anyway.”
The words landed in front of everyone.
Raskin tried to recover.
“This is not the time.”
Meera finally stood.
She slung the Barrett carefully, almost gently.
Then she pulled the worn notebook from her vest and opened it to the old page.
3,200 meters.
She held it out to Mercer.
Mercer looked at it.
Then looked at Raskin.
“Sir,” Mercer said, “there is one more matter we need to address.”
Raskin’s eyes went cold.
“Not here.”
Meera’s voice was quiet.
May you like
“Yes. Here.”
Read Part 8 to find out what the sealed Falcon Harbor file revealed about Meera’s impossible shot.
