Chapter 187: Brenden

Friday. Somewhere in Gila National Park, New Mexico.

BRENDEN STAYED LOW TO the ground, his eyes locked on the shooter pelting the belly of the plane with bullets.

He and Vaughn had been staring at the crash, watching for movement, when the first shots fired. They hadn't seen anyone. Their attackers had eluded their detection and now the innocent lives of the flight crew were in their hands. If they died, it was on their team.

Spiny plants picked and snagged his clothes, but he kept going. The rocky ground made for uncertain footing, but he didn't let that slow him down.

It was unusual to not hear the whispering voices of his team in his ear. He'd gotten used to that. And now, the only thing he heard was gunfire and cries for help.