Concussion grenades would knock people off their feet, and the flash-bangs would blind and deafen anyone inside for several minutes. The Reapers swung through the door in a tightly choreographed move. Some of Haddad’s men sprawled on the floor, incapacitated.

The Reapers swung left into the first room, forward into the back left room, through to the right rear room, and back around to the right front room without encountering any resistance from the half-dozen men incapacitated by the grenades.

Sherri winced a little as the SEALs put bullets into the heads of the downed hostiles. It was brutal, but she understood the necessity. This was a kill-or-be-killed deal. Any one of Haddad’s men would happily stand up and kill the Reapers if he could. And intel reported that everyone here was an active terrorist.

The team started up the stairs. They’d nearly reached the top when a huge explosion whited out the cameras and knocked out the audio feed altogether. The camera feeds tumbled wildly as if their wearers were falling—or flying through the air.

Griffin leaped out of his chair as the dust settled. Camera one, Kenny’s feed, pointed at a massive pile of concrete slabs, wood, splintered furniture, and debris compound from an ant’s eye view. The entire house had blown up.

Camera Two was buried, tucked into a crevice formed by two concrete slabs leaning toward each other in a crude teepee.

Camera Three pointed up at the sky. It was a beautiful, black expanse, dotted by thousands of stars and the misty belt of the Milky Way. In any other circumstances, it would have been breathtaking.

Kettering swore in a low, steady stream. “C’mon. Get up, you motherfuckers. Run for cover. Move, dammit! Be alive!”

The radios were chaotic with SEALs reporting in that the whole compound had been booby-trapped. Reports of fleeing figures on foot out the back of the compound toward the hills started to flow. Overwatch snipers shouted about their positions being overrun, and everybody was shouting for air support and wondering where the hell the Marines were.

It was, in a word, a clusterfuck.

Chapter 11

Sitting there watching a mission going to hell around his brothers was perhaps the hardest thing Griffin had ever done. It was excruciating knowing that he might be watching their deaths in real time. He vaguely registered Sherri’s hand gripping his painfully tightly.

Gradually, the dust of the daisy-chained explosions began to settle. At the far edge of Kenny’s camera range, Griffin spotted movement. He leaned forward, squinting at the form, trying to make out if it was friend or foe.

“Get up, get up, get up,” Cal was chanting under his breath.

Very slowly, Kenny’s camera moved to a seated position.

Thank the Lord.