Page 17 of Mission Shift

I stepped forward. “I just received orders to transport this American to Bryansk. Ukrainian Special Forces are already on their way here to recover him.”

The guard’s grip on his pistol faltered, and he shifted. “Why the UAZ?”

“Who are you to question a Special Intelligence Lieutenant Colonel? But for clarity, the UAZ is compact, maneuverable, and can handle off-road conditions,” I snapped at him, daring him to disrespect me by asking another question. “It’s the best option for a stealthy prisoner move under the cover of darkness. Do you want to be the reason we lose him?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. He was still hesitant. I kept my expression schooled, staring him down for a moment before continuing.

“Did you not hear the order? Or are you just that stupid?” My patience had run out. I tightened my hold on Thorin’s arm, shoving him hard toward the doorway of the shack, as if he were the source of my annoyance.

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the night, its deep boom reverberating through the prison grounds. The guard froze, his head snapping toward the sound. His eyes widened, and his body tensed.

“What the hell was that?” Thorin muttered, his head turning instinctively toward the sound.

Before anyone could react, another explosion—this one even louder than the first—ripped through the air. I rolled in my lips, refusing to let any satisfaction show on my face at how perfect the timing of the detonations were. The vibrations rattled the shack, and the guard stumbled back, panic etched into his young face.

“Shit!” he cursed, shifting his weight to move toward the safety of the shack.

I surged forward, quickly bringing my Glock around to aim it at him. His panic motivated him to retreat further. He made it into the shack, but before he could close the door, I pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed, cutting through the night. The guard screamed, clutching his knee as he collapsed to the ground. He hit the floor with a thud, writhing in pain, his pistol slipping from his hand.

And with that, my cover was irrevocably blown. Now all that mattered was survival.

“Oh, fuck!” Thorin yelped, his face contorting in disgust. “He’s just a kid!”

I rolled my eyes, biting back the urge to shoot him too. His naivety could get us killed.

I wasted no time snatching up the Makarov and tucking it into the empty holster that had previously held my Glock. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it would do. At least it wasn’t trembling in the boy’s hands anymore.

The guard writhed on the floor, his face pale and slick with sweat. I grabbed the handcuffs dangling from his belt and secured one end to his wrist and the other to the metal leg of a bolted-down table. His protests were incoherent, lost beneath his gasping cries.

I stepped to the cabinet, where a row of keys hung neatly. Turning, I pointed the gun at the guard’s chest. “The key to the UAZ Hunter. Which one is it?”

He shook his head, shuddering.

I didn’t hesitate. Another shot rang out. This time, the bullet went into his foot. His scream was ear-piercing, but I didn’t care. They would have surely heard the first shot; we only had a few precious seconds to get the hell out of here before guards descended on us. “The next bullet goes into your balls.”

The guard whimpered, his face contorting in agony. “The red key ring! The red key ring!”

I spotted it immediately and grabbed it from the hook. Turning back to the guard, I tilted my head. “Smart,” I said dryly. “Good thing I didn’t have to kill you.”

Glancing around, I found the lever to open the gate. It was situated on the wall next to the desk. I flipped it and ordered Thorin to move, shoving him out of the shack while the gate groaned open.

I didn’t give Thorin time to react but forced him toward the UAZ. The next steps had to be flawless. There was no margin for error.

The distant shouts began to grow louder. Every instinct screamed at me to move faster, but the damn handcuffs between Thorin and me slowed our pace. We were cutting this too close.

When we reached the UAZ, I yanked the driver’s-side door open. With a jab of my fingers, I gestured toward the passenger side, my glare daring Thorin to hesitate.

He froze for half a second, his brows pulling together in a confused grimace, but then his body eased in compliance. My urgency must have gotten through to him. “Go!” I snarled in English, tugging at the cuffs to emphasize the command.

I hated using English. The last thing I wanted was for Thorin to know I spoke it flawlessly. That was a card I wasn’t ready to play. Trust wasn’t something I had to give anyone, especially not an American whose very presence here was putting my life in jeopardy. He didn’t need to know anything about me—not my skills, my motives, or my thoughts. A wall between us was necessary, and I intended to keep it firmly in place.

Thorin climbed into the driver’s seat, shifting his weight as he tried to leverage himself over to the passenger side, his bulky frame nearly filling the cabin. The handcuffs between us jerked awkwardly, and he tugged me along with his every movement as he attempted to maneuver himself into the passenger seat. His ass banged against the manual gearshift, and the entire vehicle rocked slightly as he twisted and turned, trying to fit.

“For fuck’s sake,” I growled in Russian, giving him a shove that sent him sprawling into the seat. He huffed, his breath coming out in a frustrated grunt as he finally managed to flop into his seat.

“Charming as always,” he muttered.

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