Chapter 8
Then Cross saw it.
A fuel drum near the gate.
Half hidden beside a wall.
She keyed her radio.
“Harper, mark east gate.”
“Marked.”
Cross dropped to one knee.
Willis had said she was emotional.
But emotion did not measure wind through smoke.
Emotion did not calculate angle against stone.
Emotion did not wait until the truck passed the drum by exactly two feet.
Cross fired.
The drum burst.
A wall of fire cut the truck off from the courtyard.
The mounted gun spun uselessly into flame.
The rescue team vanished into the irrigation trench with Hale alive between them.
At 4:27 a.m., they reached the dry creek bed.
At 4:31, the extraction helicopter dropped low behind the ridge.
At 4:33, Hale was loaded onto the bird.
Cross climbed in last.
Only then did she let herself look at him.
His eyes opened again.
“You came fast.”
Cross strapped in beside him.
“You were on a deadline.”
He breathed a weak laugh.
Then his face turned serious.
“Willis knew.”
Cross leaned closer.
“What?”
Hale swallowed with difficulty.
“I heard them talking. The convoy route. The leak. They said the major delayed rescue because he didn’t want the route change traced back.”
Cross went still.
The helicopter lifted into the dark sky.
Below them, the compound burned.
May you like
Above them, the first pale line of sunrise touched the horizon.
Read Part 9 to see what happened when Cross walked back into the room that had humiliated her.
