Chapter 9 - THE SIEGE OF THE BUNKER
The headlights cut through the falling snow like twin blades of steel as the three armored SUVs screeched to a halt outside the bunker entrance.
Dozens of heavily armed Bratva mercenaries piled out,
wearing tactical gear and carrying assault rifles.
They opened fire blindly,
riddling the concrete entrance with thousands of rounds of lead.
Sparks showered over us as Nico and I took cover behind the reinforced steel doorframes.
Suppressing fire,
Nico yelled,
unleashing a torrent of lead from his submachine gun into the courtyard.
Two mercenaries dropped instantly,
tumbling into the snow.
I leaned out from cover,
squeezing the trigger of my Glock with cold,
calculated precision.
Headshot.
Chest shot.
Another mercenary went down.
They outnumber us ten to one,
Boss,
Nico shouted over the deafening roar of gunfire.
Then we make every bullet count,
I replied,
swapping out my magazine with practiced ease.
Where is the extraction chopper,
I asked into my radio.
Five minutes out,
Boss,
the pilot’s voice crackled back through the static.
We’ve got a dozen hostiles surrounding the clearing,
the pilot continued.
I can't land until you clear the landing zone.
Hold your position,
I ordered.
We’re coming out.
I grabbed a flashbang grenade from my tactical vest,
pulled the pin,
and hurled it out into the courtyard.
A blinding flash of magnesium light illuminated the snowy night,
followed by a concussive boom that sent the mercenaries staggering backward,
screaming and clutching their ears.
Now,
move,
move,
move,
I roared.
Nico and I laid down a wall of suppression fire,
cutting a path through the disoriented mercenaries as we retreated toward the ridge where our helicopter was descending through the swirling snow.
Alina was already safe inside the cabin,
peering out the window with terror in her eyes.
We scrambled up the frozen slope,
diving through the open cabin doors just as the pilot pulled collective and rocketed upward into the night sky.
Below us,
Viktor Vance stood in the courtyard,
staring up at our departing helicopter with a look of murderous fury on his face.
Enjoy your last few days of breathing,
Viktor,
I whispered to myself,
May you like
resting my hand on Alina’s trembling shoulder.
My war has just begun.
