Page 94 of The Sniper

Not the regular kind. Not the radio-quiet kind.

This was dead silence.

The kind that meant something had gone wrong.

Something hadgone.

“Noah?” I whispered.

Nothing.

Elias leaned forward, muttering something under his breath. “No, no, no—don’t do this—come on—where the hell is his signal?”

He clicked through feeds, hands flying, breath short now.

I reached for the desk to steady myself. “Elias.”

He didn’t look at me. “His signal’s down. Either the equipment got hit or?—”

“Or what?”

He stopped typing.

And that scared me more than anything else.

“Maybe you should go.”

My knees buckled. I gripped the chair with both hands, heart pounding so loud I could barely hear the static anymore.

“I need—” My voice cracked. “I need to hear him.”

Elias shook his head, jaw clenched. “I’m trying.”

The radio popped.

Once.

Then silence again.

I stared at the screen—at the boats, the red dots still moving, still closing in. But the one dot that mattered most?

Gone.

Elias sat back slowly, his eyes scanning every corner of the display. Searching. Willing a signal to return. But none did.

I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth.

No.

No, no, no.

“He promised,” I whispered, tears already sliding hot down my cheeks. “He said he’d come back.”

Elias didn’t speak. He just kept working, expression grim, the war room now lit only by the blue flicker of bad news.

26

NOAH

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