They reached the river at dawn. Mist curled over the water like ghosts. A rusted dock jutted out, and beyond it, the supply station squatted—concrete walls scarred by time, guard towers rebuilt by Kane's men.
Cross scoped it with his rifle. "At least a dozen hostiles. Snipers on the roof."
Reyes leaned against a tree, barely standing. "Then we don't walk in through the front door."
Elena smirked faintly. "Good. Because I wasn't planning to."
She led them through the reeds, slipping into the river silently. Cross followed, keeping Reyes afloat with one arm while holding his rifle above water with the other. The current tugged hard, threatening to drag them under.
Halfway across, a spotlight snapped on. "Contact in the water!" a voice barked. Gunfire ripped the river, bullets splashing inches from their heads.
Cross shoved Reyes under, dragging him with brute strength as he fired blind at the tower. Elena's silenced pistol cracked, and the spotlight shattered.
They surged forward, lungs burning, until their hands slapped against the dock's slimy underside. Cross hauled Reyes up, muscles screaming. Elena climbed beside them, already scanning for threats.
The station loomed above, bristling with guards. The only way was up.
Cross chambered a round. "We hit them hard, we hit them fast. No second chances."
Elena's eyes gleamed. "That's the only way I play."