“We follow the road down until we reach the house. There’s open land on two sides and dense forest on the remaining two. Surrounding it is a no-go; we’re blocked off from the west point.”
I nod. “Is there a gate? Security? Cameras?”
“Low gate, nothing the trucks can’t pass over. Little in the way of exterior cameras, but the place is teeming with Sobakin soldiers. They’re on edge. Boris is in there; I have no doubt.”
I nod, licking my lips in excitement for what’s to come. “Then we go in guns blazing. I’m not interested in prisoners.”
Dominik holds up a finger. “They’re going to see us coming.”
“Let them,” I growl. “I want them to know that death is on their doorstep. Follow me. We’re going in.”
Engines rev behind me. On my count, I bark into the radio and we go ripping down the road, a tidal wave of dark-tinted cars coming down on Sobakin’s hideout like a plague. As we approach the gate, I can see the furor of his men as they start to understand what’s coming for them.
The sentries at the outermost points start scrambling for walkie-talkies or running to sniper positions. The few bullets they manage to spray in our direction go bouncing harmlessly off the armor-plated exteriors. I step on the accelerator and start speeding towards the gate.
Dimiv grabs hold of the roof handle of the jeep and braces himself for impact. We both know I’m not going to stop until we’ve blasted through that cheap piece of metal. It’s almost insulting that Sobakin would think he’s safe here. He thinks a few armed men and a five-foot gate will protect him from me?
He’ll learn soon just how wrong he was.
The few guards foolish enough to have stayed in place this long jump out of the way just in time. We crash into the gate and it shatters under my hood, its black frame splitting in two and screaming in protest as my wheels flatten it into corrugated tin.
I duck low as heavier waves of bullets start peppering the jeep. They do no more damage than the first barrage, but they do confirm that we’re into the thick of the hornet’s nest now.
I spin the jeep around, kicking up a dust storm that allows me to drive in a little further until we’re practically at the door of the modest two-storey house.
Dimiv and I pop out on the safe side and take up positions. I pick off three, four, five Sobakin soldiers when they rear their heads above the low wall lining the roof. When the coast is clear, I pick out a path up and shimmy up the gutter until I’m high enough to slip in through a second-floor window.
The room I land in is weirdly empty. Through the walls, I can hear the thump of gun recoil and the groans of men as they’re decimated by my Bratva and Dominik’s. I pause and wait with my ears perked, but it seems I’ve snuck in unnoticed.
Or at least, that’s what I thought. But as soon as I take a step toward the door to venture further into the house, it bursts open. I don’t even wait to see who I’m shooting. I raise my gun and unload a trio of shots.
Two bodies hit the ground, bleeding from new holes in their foreheads. A third man spins back out of the room with a scream.
I lunge after and find him crawling away on his hands and knees, leaking blood from where my first shot caught him in the shoulder. I execute him quickly with a swift bullet to the back of the skull.
He screams again just before he dies. But the sound of that and of his body hitting the floor draws attention I was hoping to avoid. More faces appear at the end of the hall. I fire blindly, enough to buy myself some time to move, then duck and load a fresh clip into my gun.
I’m getting ready to pop back out and trade gunfire when CRASH!—the skeleton of the house shivers. If I had to guess, I’d say someone’s run a car right into the foundation somewhere. It’s a sufficient distraction for me to eliminate the rat’s nest of Sobakin mudaks who’d been waiting for me to stick my head out again. Four bodies drop in quick succession.
I charge deeper into the house. My only purpose now is finding that motherfucker, Boris. I don’t even care about Artur Agapov at this point. If we manage to get the asshole, it will only be a bonus.
Boris Sobakin is the entrée.
As a smoky body comes around the corner, I raise my gun, but his arms go up in surrender almost immediately. “Don’t shoot!” he cries out.
“Blyat’， Dimiv,” I snarl. “Nearly took your head off.”
He slides into place beside me. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?”