Free Delete: Volume 3 (Shifter Series) by Kim Curran Page A

they were ready,” Williamson said.
    “Well, you got what we came for,” Ladoux said, looking back at Hedges.
    “Oh, sure. Mission accomplished. Whoopy-freaking-do!” Unwin said.
    “Not yet,” I said. “We still need to get Hedges back for–” I didn’t have a chance to finish. Zac shoved me hard in the chest, there was a loud snap, and I felt white searing pain cut across my arm. Zac and I both hit the ground. We were under fire.
    We rolled behind the smoking car to get some kind of cover.
    “Get back!” I yelled at the team. They herded Hedges around the side of the building. We weren’t in the clear yet.
    “Up there,” Zac said, pointing to the top of the building.
    I flipped my visor into place and zoomed in on the figure. They were slim – a woman or child, maybe – holding a small pistol and pulling the trigger over and over, while they screamed in rage. The gun had stopped firing, the cartridge clearly empty, and yet they kept pulling the trigger. My visor flipped through filters till the person came into focus. It was a teenager. I couldn’t tell which gender, thanks to the red hoodie they wore pulled up over a baseball cap. But I could see the tears pouring down their face.
    I stood up, took aim, and fired. A single shot to the head and the figure crumpled to the ground. We waited to see if we were in the clear. Everything was silent apart from the crackle of fire coming from the burning building. Slowly, we stood up and stepped forward. It was over.
    “Ten minutes,” Zac said, meaning how long we had till the air force would get to work. Not that the strike was needed any more. The Red Hand had cleared out long ago, leaving only a small defence team behind. But I would be happy to see this block go up in flames anyway.
    I nodded. “Let’s get back to the bird.”
    Ladoux led us to where she’d landed the copter. Unwin and Williamson carried Ward’s body and laid it in the cockpit. Turner dug out a blanket from her pack and covered the woman with it.
    We stood for a while before getting back on board, looking towards the tower block. The strike would be coming any minute. I wondered if there were still some of the Red Hand in there and was surprised at how completely OK I would be if there were. They deserved to burn, I thought. Someone tugged on my arm. I yanked it away, irritated at whoever was there.
    It was Turner. She held a white gauze bandage in her hand. “Your arm, sir.”
    The scrape was deep. Blood oozed steadily out of it, soaking into my uniform. I nodded at her to continue.
    She worked quickly, cutting away my sleeve so she could get access to the wound. She mopped at it, throwing each soaked swab to the floor, then pulled out a tube.
    “This may sting,” she said, as she poured a line of glistening liquid into the cut.
    She wasn’t kidding. I had to bite down on my lip to stop myself from whimpering in pain. It was worse than the cut itself. She wrapped a bandage around my arm, tying it off in a neat bow.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “No problem,” she said, packing up her equipment. She was about to walk away when she paused. “Cooper’s body.”
    The strike was due any moment. “I’m sorry.”
    She nodded and forced a smile.
    I felt Cooper’s loss harder than made sense. As far as I was aware, I’d only met him yesterday. And yet there was a part of me that counted him as a friend, that had fought alongside him. The death of Ward hurt, too. I knew nothing about her. Had she been a mother? A wife? I would never know now. All I knew was that she was a good solider.
    I looked at the rest of my squad. Unwin, the gunner – who even now was trying to make a joke, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes – passed Turner a cigarette. She took it with a shaking hand and chugged on it, sending a cloud of blue smoke into the sky. Next to them, Williamson saw to the cut on his forehead, trying to hide how much pain he was in. Ladoux stared ahead, flicking the lid of a lighter