On the opposite ridge, Brick doesn't wait. He hits the detonator switch.
A string of C4 charges buried along the timber bridge blows outward in a blinding, vertical flash of orange fire and shattering oak timber.
The explosion sounds like a thunderclap trapped in a small room, rattling the teeth in my jaw. The entire rear of the haul road sags, splintering into thousands of flying shards before collapsing down into the thirty-foot chasm below.
The trailing SUV, riding too close to the rear transport's bumper, drops backward into the ravine, slamming roof-first onto the boulders below with a sickening crunch.
"Execute! Execute!" I yell into the mic, dropping my cheek to the cold cheek-rest of the stock. “Take them!”
The darkness shatters. The night explodes into absolute, unadulterat
