The canyon was silent, except for the whistling wind that cut through our clothes like knives.
We were positioned on a ridge overlooking the old mining tracks in Sector 4. Snow covered everything, making the rusted rails look like black scars on the white earth.
"Any sign?" Caleb asked, his voice low. He was lying flat on his stomach, binoculars pressed to his eyes.
"Nothing yet," Tyson whispered back, checking his watch. "If the intel was right, they should be passing the bridge in two minutes."
Sloane was perched on a higher rock, her sniper rifle set up on a bipod. She was perfectly still, like a statue carved from ice.
"Target approaching," Sloane’s voice came over the comms earpiece. "North side. And boys... it’s big."
I looked through my own binoculars.
At first, I saw
