Then a sharp, solid crack cut through the noise. Silas had stepped in and drove a clean punch straight into Elliot's face. It wasn't wild or emotional, it was controlled, precise, meant to shock him out of it.
Elliot's rifle slipped from his hands as he cried out, stumbling back and clutching his nose. Blood spilled between his fingers as he dropped to one knee, the panic in his eyes replaced by stunned pain.
"You're going to get all of us killed," Silas said, his voice low but cutting, every word controlled. "Get yourself together."
He grabbed Elliot's wrist and pulled his hands away from his face just long enough to check the damage.
"It's just a nosebleed," he said flatly.
Elliot nodded shakily, still wincing, but the panic had been broken.
"…I think I have something," Mercer said.
He forced himself to slow his breathing, pushing past the noise and tension. His eyes shifted toward the shattered glass scattered across the floor near the window.
An idea formed. Before he could second-guess it, he moved. He reached toward a jagged shard lying near the frame, but the instant his hand came into view, another shot cracked through the opening, striking the ground inches from his fingers. The impact sent dust and fragments spraying, forcing him to jerk back on instinct.
His heart pounded harder now, but he didn't hesitate again. He leaned in quickly, grabbed the piece of glass, and pulled back into cover. Asher looked at him, confused, trying to understand what he was thinking. Silas, on the other hand, didn't ask.
A faint smirk crossed his face as he watched Mercer turn the shard over in his hand, angling it carefully.
"I need someone to draw his fire," Mercer said, keeping his voice low but steady.
"I'll do it," Asher replied immediately.
Their eyes met for a brief second, and that was enough. No hesitation, no second-guessing.
Asher shifted closer to the window, lowering his stance as he prepared to expose just enough of himself to bait the shot. At the same time, Mercer raised the shard of glass slowly, angling it toward the opening.
"On me," Mercer murmured.
Asher lifted his head just slightly above the window line. The sniper fired instantly. The round snapped past, grazing the top of Asher's helmet with a sharp metallic crack before disappearing into the wall behind him. Asher dropped back down without a word.
But Mercer had already seen what he needed. The reflection in the glass caught the angle of the shot, just enough to trace it back. He lowered the shard immediately, pulling it back into cover.
"So where is he?" Silas asked, already adjusting his position.
"Rooftop," Mercer replied, thinking it through as he spoke. "Old apartment building, about five hundred yards out. Elevated angle, partial cover."
Silas nodded once, absorbing it.
"I can hit him," Mercer continued, his voice more controlled now. "But we need him locked onto this position. If he shifts focus, we lose the angle."
He glanced between them, making a quick decision.
"Silas, you're with me. Asher, Elliot, you stay here and keep him busy. Keep the pressure on this window."
They both nodded, though Elliot's movements were still a little stiff.
"Asher, controlled fire. Don't waste rounds," Mercer added. Then his eyes shifted to Elliot. "Just keep shooting in his direction. He doesn't need to be hit, he just needs to stay focused on you."
Mercer's chest tightened as he watched them ready themselves, a surge of nerves creeping in. One misstep, one second of hesitation from Elliot..from anyone, and everything they'd worked for could fall apart in an instant.