Chapter 9 - The Ghost of the Sierra

""We have twenty minutes before air support arrives,"" Hector said, his face pale as he barked orders to his men. ""Evacuate the heavy weapons! Move the trucks!""
""No,"" Sofia intervened, stepping between Hector and his lieutenants. ""We don't run. If we run, we are hunted across the desert until we drop. We turn this mine into their cemetery.""
Hector looked at her, seeing for the first time the reflection of her father—a legendary cartel tactician who had carved an empire out of blood and discipline. ""The tunnels run deep. We have three tons of industrial mining dynamite in the lower shafts.""
""Rig the entry corridors,"" Sofia commanded, her voice ringing with authority. ""Leave the main gate open. Make it look like we fled in a panic. Leave the lights burning.""
""And you?"" Hector asked. ""You need to be in a hospital.""
""My baby is fighting with me,"" Sofia said, placing a steady hand on her stomach. ""Give me a sniper rifle and put me on the ventilation ridge overlooking the canyon. When Julian’s strike force commits to the interior, we seal them in.""
Within fifteen minutes, the camp was an empty ghost. Hector's men vanished into the hidden lateral tunnels, stringing detonation cords along the granite walls. Sofia, wrapped in a ghillie net of dried pine and burlap, lay prone on the high ridge above the mine entrance, a suppressed .338 Lapua rifle resting on its bipod before her.
Through the high-magnification scope, she watched the horizon. Right on schedule, three unmarked transport helicopters crested the mountain peaks, flying low and fast beneath radar coverage.
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They weren't Julian's normal street thugs. These were mercenary contractors—the best blood money could buy. They touched down in the clearing outside the mine, thirty black-clad operators spilling out with military precision, weapons raised, sweeping toward the open tunnel entrance.
Sofia tracked the leader in her crosshairs. Her finger rested gently on the trigger, waiting for the trap to spring.