Riley Chen crouched low behind the SUV door, rifle still up, sweeping the rooftops on the right side of the street. His breathing was controlled but fast. Xavier knelt beside him, pistol drawn, scanning left. David stayed low near the rear wheel, eyes on the buildings opposite, gun steady despite the blood still pounding in his ears.
Riley thumbed his earpiece and hit the speed dial.
“Lena, it’s Riley,” he said, voice clipped and urgent. “Marcus is down. Headshot. Sniper. We’re pinned on the MacArthur Causeway eastbound, mile marker 12. We need eyes on this location—every CCTV, traffic cam, rooftop movement, everything. Now.”
Lena’s voice came back instant, keys already clacking in the background. “Copy. Pulling feeds. Give me thirty seconds. Stay low. No visible profiles.”
Riley kept
