***Ti Blan POV***
The clinic’s security cameras blinked red in the treeline, their infrared glare painting my laptop screen like a Christmas tree. I’d looped the feeds 20 minutes ago—gators swarming dummies for the third time—but Esteban’s boys weren’t stupid. They’d notice eventually.
***“Movement in Sector 3!” ***a voice barked over their comms. **“Check the perimeter!”**
“Fanmi Bondye (God’s family)," I muttered, slinging the drone over my shoulder. “Danni owes me a new gaming setup after this.”
The Black Hawk loomed behind the clinic, rotors still warm. I’d hacked its nav system remotely back at camp, but the damn thing kept rebooting. Military-grade encryption.
Esteban wasn’t messing around. Ex-Blackwater. Pros. I’d hacked their comms back at camp: 12 hostiles, two snipers,
