The SEALs ignored her warning — Then their Commander whispered, ‘Sergeant, take the shot.
The wind was a blade against the exposed rock of the Carpathian foothills. It carried no scent of life—not pine, not damp earth—only the sterile chill of high altitude and impending autumn. Below the ridgeline, seven figures moved with the disciplined economy of predators. They were shadows, detaching themselves from other shadows, their forms blurred…
