Princess
Copyright© 2026 by Megumi Kashuahara
Chapter 6: Counter
Not from the Molar. From the southern ridgeline—a different ridge, one that had been empty all morning. A single precise crack. A bolt-action rifle at long range, fired by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
Below her on the base, Sergeant Elias Davies went down.
She didn’t see it happen. She heard it. She heard Kowalski on the radio—Davies is hit, Davies is hit, get a medic—and underneath that, Davies himself, alive but badly hurt.
She understood in one sick rush what had just happened. The enemy had a counter-sniper.
A counter-sniper who had been watching this base for hours, watching her work, calculating her position and her patterns, waiting for her to leave her hut, waiting for Davies to take her old spot. And when Davies had settled behind her rifle, the counter-sniper had taken his shot. Davies was alive only because the counter-sniper had rushed it. Or because he was just slightly less good than Kirsti.
Or both.
“Command—this is Sector Four. We have a counter-sniper on the southern ridge. I say again, enemy sniper, south ridge, grid unknown. Sergeant Davies is hit by long-range precision fire. Everyone off the walls. Everyone down. Any exposed position is a target.”
She felt the whole shape of the morning rearrange itself in her mind. The first wave had been a distraction. The second wave had been a distraction. The third wave—sixty vehicles, ATGMs, the armored car—all of it, a distraction. The real threat had been a single man on a ridge with a rifle, whose job was to kill the one American sniper keeping this base alive. His shot had missed only because Kirsti had moved before he could take it.
He was still up there. Still looking for her.
She slid backward off the tower platform belly-down, not a single inch above the sandbag line. Down the ladder. When she hit the ground she didn’t stand—she crawled along the inside of the perimeter wall toward the medical tent.
“Robert Evans.”
“Duncan—get down.”
“I’m down. Where’s Davies?”
“Inside. Doc has him. Took him through the thigh—femoral. He almost bled out before we got him here. Doc says he’s going to live.” A pause. “But he’s going to lose the leg.”
Kirsti closed her eyes for one beat.
“Robert Evans. I need the best sight line I can get to the southern ridge. Best angle I have—where?”
“Anywhere on the south is exposed.”
“I know. That’s the problem. Best angle?”
Robert Evans thought for one second. Then his eyes lit up.
“The water tower. Highest platform on the base. Only thing tall enough to see over the south wall into the ridge. But Duncan—he’ll see you go up.”
“Then I don’t go up.” She looked at him evenly. “Robert Evans—I need you to go up.”
He went very still.
“Not with a rifle. With a helmet on a stick. I need you to go halfway up the water tower ladder with a helmet held above the platform. The counter-sniper is going to take the shot. The moment he does, his position gives itself away. I’ll have ten seconds to engage him before he relocates.”
“Duncan.” He swallowed. “If I’m halfway up the ladder and he misses the helmet—his second shot hits me.”
“He’s not going to miss the helmet. Snipers at this level don’t miss twice. He will hit it clean. You will be two feet below the helmet on the ladder. You will be fine.” She held his gaze. “I promise you.”
Robert Evans looked at her for a long moment.
“Okay, Duncan.”
“Robert Evans—I’m going to owe you after this.”
“Ma’am.” He shook his head. “You don’t owe anybody anything.”
He went.
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