Lucas Durand - Historical Novel

Mogadishu had fallen silent for only a moment. A brief, unnatural calm in the air, before the whole city erupted again. The sun had set, but the night was no quieter. Instead, it was alive with the shriek of mortar shells and the sharp staccato of gunfire. Every corner of the city seemed to pulse with tension, the smell of smoke and burning debris thick in the air. “Move, move!”