Page 140 of Twisted Pact
We move through the house in formation. Years of training take over. Every corner is checked and every room is cleared. The sounds of battle intensify as we approach the main level.
Anton meets us at the ground-level stairs. Blood streams from a cut above his eyebrow. “They’re breaching the front entrance. Denis is holding them off, but he needs backup.”
“Go,” Dmitri tells me. “I’ll secure the west wing.”
We split up, and I take Anton toward the front of the house. The acrid smell of gunpowder fills my nose. Bullet holes pepper the walls, and a priceless painting my father collected hangs in tatters.
Denis crouches behind an overturned table in the foyer. He fires through the shattered window and ducks as return fire sprays the area.
“How many?” I ask as I drop beside him.
“Five outside. Maybe more in the trees.”
I lean around the table to assess the situation. Three men are using my vehicles for cover while firing at the house. Two more advance along the tree line, flanking our position.
“On my signal, suppressing fire,” I instruct.
Denis nods.
“Now.”
We open up simultaneously, with our combined firepower forcing the assailants to take cover. I sprint across the foyer to a better vantage point near the destroyed front door.
From this angle, I have a clear shot at the flanking attackers. I take down the first with a double-tap to the chest. The second realizes his mistake and retreats, but Anton’s rifle barks, and he drops.
The three behind my vehicles return fire. Bullets chew through the doorframe inches from my head. I duck and reload.
“We need to push them back,” I call to Denis.
“On your lead.”
I count to three, then roll into the open and come up firing. Denis and Anton provide covering fire from their positions. The coordinated assault catches the attackers off guard. Two go down. The third makes a run for the trees but doesn’t make it ten feet.
Silence falls over the front grounds. Just the ringing in my ears and my heavy breathing.
“Clear,” Denis confirms.
My phone vibrates, and Dmitri’s name flashes on the screen.
“West wing is secure,” he reports. “We took down six. Lost one of ours.”
“Who?”
“Nikita.”
I close my eyes. Nikita has worked for our family for years. “The south?”
“Boris is handling it. They’re falling back.”
“Novikov?”
“No sign of him yet.”
I reload my weapon and scan the grounds through the shattered windows. “He’s here. This is his big moment. He wouldn’t miss it.”
“Then let’s find him.”
I move through the destroyed front entrance onto the steps. Bodies litter the driveway. My men move between them, checking for survivors. The night air smells like blood and smoke.
