Chapter Twenty
“Do you want me to take the shot?” Tim asked quietly as he lined the largest Trivator warrior in his site.
“No,” Destin said coldly.
He carefully watched as the small group of four males knelt in the narrow alley three hundred yards from them. He adjusted the night vision binoculars to zero in on them. They had been tracking the men for the last few blocks.
They had to move carefully. They were in enemy territory now. So far, they had to detour twice on their mission to the National Guard Armory. Destin had cursed the last four days. It would have been suicide if they had tried to get to the Armory during the storm. He and Tim left as soon as it cleared enough for them to travel under the cover of darkness.
They had discovered the small group of Trivator males about ten
