Page 96 of Auctioned Innocence
I also look at the room. “The front door?” I guess as Dante hands me a gun.
“Too obvious. They’ll breach from multiple angles.” He moves to the window, studying the approaching figures. “But this cabin has good bones. Stone foundation, thick walls. We can funnel them where we want them.”
I check my weapon, making sure it’s loaded. I take a deep breath. I need to focus. I can do this.
“What’s the plan?” My voice is finally sure and confident.
“We let them think they have us trapped.”
That dangerous smile returns. “Then we show them exactly what happens when they corner a Renaldi and a Moretti.”
The sound of boots on gravel grows louder.
They’re moving in for the final approach.
Time to fight.
18
DANTE
The first explosion hits thirty seconds later.
Glass erupts inward as the west wall buckles, debris flying through the air like shrapnel.
Armed figures pour through the breach before the dust settles—black tactical gear, night vision goggles, weapons I recognize as military grade.
I’m already moving, grabbing Sofia and pulling her behind the stone fireplace just as automatic weapons fire tears through the space where we’d been standing.
“Two through the breach!” I shout, returning fire through the shattered window.
My shots force them to take cover behind overturned furniture, buying us precious seconds. Splinters explode from the wooden beams as their return fire chews through the cabin’s interior.
Sofia is beside me, weapon steady in her hands despite the chaos.
No hesitation, no panic—just cold focus as she angles for a clear shot at the lead attacker.
Her bullet takes him center mass. He drops without a sound, blood pooling beneath his black fatigues.
Pride and terror wars.
She’s magnificent, but these aren’t amateurs we’re facing.
These are professionals who came here to kill us both, and they’re not going to make the same mistake twice.
“Movement on the north side!” Sofia calls out, spotting muzzle flashes through what’s left of the window.
I pivot, laying down suppressing fire as more figures attempt to breach from multiple angles.
Bullets punch through the thin kitchenette walls like they’re made of paper.
This is exactly what I’d feared—a coordinated assault designed to overwhelm us with superior numbers and firepower.
“Covering fire,” I shout to Sofia as I reload.
She leans out, her shots measured and calculated.
Another attacker goes down, his scream cutting through the gunfire before ending abruptly.
