Page 97 of Unmade

I sat straighter.

“Well, we’re sure as shit comin’ for themnow,” he said. “How far out are the others?”

It frustrated me when he only hummed or said “received” and “copy that” to whatever River said, because I wanted to be in the loop. Since we were traveling on a dirt road, we had to be getting fairly close to our destination, right? So I wanted to be clued in and given orders.

“No, it’ll be better since I have a recruit with me,” he answered. “I’d rather not risk his life unnecessarily.”

How nice of him.

“Copy. I’ll call you in one minute.” Coach pressed the button in his earbud again, and he locked eyes with me. “Change of plans. When I get the green light from River and Shira, we will shoot the tires to slow down the van.” He pointed at the back tires under the bench, and I lifted my eyebrows. Was he serious? “They’re heading for a bunker, and we can’t let them drive down there,” he said. “It’ll give them the advantage back.”

Yeah, no, fuck that. I wasn’t disappearing underground!

“Okay, so we blow out the tires, and then what? Drop and roll?” I peered under the bench and aimed the flashlight to see where I could fire for direct impact. It was impossible for me to know exactly where the tire sat in the wheelhouse, how thick and reinforced the material was in that area of the vehicle, and how many rounds we’d waste on getting through. “Are we sure it’s not better to shoot through the shell into the cab? We could get the driver.”

“They already did the math on that,” Coach replied. “If they’ve reinforced that wall in any way, we’re down five or six rounds, the driver’s been alerted to what we’re doing, and he’ll accelerate to get below faster.”

Fair enough.

“I’m glad you mentioned drop and roll,” he continued. “That’s exactly what we’ll do. When the van loses speed, we’ll jump out at my signal—I’ll be right behind you. And you don’t fucking break your legs. Keep the knees bent, let your side take the fall, protect your head. You can run with a broken elbow or fractured wrist. You can’t do that if you break your foot—fuck. Hold on.” He clenched his jaw and pressed the button again to take a call. “It hasn’t been a minute—what? He’s in position now?” He blew out a long breath and nodded to himself. “Roger. Okay, yeah. I’ll fill him in. Thirty seconds.” He made eye contact with me once more. “Forget what I said. We have our sniper in position. He’ll take out the tires. Once the vehicle slows down, we jump out. Moment you hit the ground, you fucking run, Watts. Are we clear? You head for the closest tree line, and you take cover in the forest.”

“Yes, sir. What’re the surroundings gonna look like?” Remembering I had earplugs in my pockets from target practice, I dug them out and inserted one of them.

“Their bunker sits in the center of a clearing that’s roughly ten acres,” he replied. I hated acres. Acres were useless to me. I needed the equivalent in football fields so I could visualize it. “Forest all around—and we have our backup waiting out there.”

“And the workers?” I asked without gesturing their way.

“We get to safety first.” He pressed the button yet again. “Coach and Watts, good to go.” He motioned for me to get on my feet, then abruptly pointed at my holster. At the same time, he instructed the workers to get down and huddle together.

Oh shit. Yeah. I secured the strap. I did not wanna lose the gun when I hit the ground.

“Confirmed.” Coach got up in front of me, blocking the doors, and gripped the handles. I inserted the other earplug. “In five, four, three, two…”

I pocketed my flashlight and braced myself.

The van jerked violently, and a loud blast cracked through the air like thunder. Adrenaline shot through me as it happened again and again. Four shots altogether, but the vehicle wouldn’t fucking slow down.

“They’re not slowing down,” Coach growled.

Holy shit. The tires were fucking out; whoever the sniper was had delivered perfect hits, but the driver kept pushing forward. In fact, he was accelerating, and the bumpy ride became a goddamn roller coaster.

They couldn’t do this for long, but maybe long enough to get us underground.

In a split-second decision, I drew my gun and aimed at the wall to the cab, and I fired one round, two, three, four, the sound almost obliterating my hearing, despite the earplugs. We skidded and jerked to a stop, and I fell against one of the workers. They were yelling and crying out, but I barely heard them. My heart pounded, my skin prickled, my breaths turned rapid, and yet my brain stayed sharp and calm.

Coach pointed forward. “We’re too far away from the tree line—we gotta take care of the two in the front!”

“Understood, sir!” I sucked in a breath, and when he opened the doors, I stumbled after. He went for the driver’s seat, and I went for the passenger—oh fuck.

A guy came out with a gun, and he looked equal parts furious and startled. Operator Tenley’s face flitted by in my brain, and I heard his instructions on repeat. Over and over, the same words.This is a sprint. End it quick. You put everything behind the very first blow.I rammed my elbow up his face, hammer-fisted him in the temple, and managed to grab his gun. Then I pushed him back against the door and shot him in the forehead.

Mom, I killed a man.

I drew a deep breath and looked into the cab, where Coach finished off the driver.

My shots had gone through. Maybe they hadn’t killed the driver, but when he was slouched forward like that, I saw two wounds in his shoulder.

Movement caught my eye, and I peered over the passenger’s side door to see a group of men running out from a down-sloped driveway. They were armed to the teeth, so I alerted Coach and instantly noticed my voice was too loud. Hell, I hadn’t even realized the ringing was going down.

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