“All teams, be advised that we have significant reinforcements incoming. Conserve ammunition and choose targets for maximum effectiveness.”
“Boss,” comes a tense voice through the radio, “we’re taking serious casualties on the western perimeter. Four wounded, two KIA.”
“Fall back to secondary positions if necessary. Don’t let them overwhelm your defensive lines through attrition.”
The sound of combat grows as Viktor’s reinforcements join the battle with fresh weapons and ammunition. Automatic weaponsfire echoes continuously through the forest while rocket explosions continue to demolish the estate’s buildings.
“Katya, we need to move,” I tell her as another rocket impacts dangerously close to our position. “They’re concentrating on this building.”
She whips her head from side to side. “Where should we reposition to?”
“The forest, where we can coordinate the defense more effectively from mobile locations.”
We gather our weapons and remaining ammunition while debris falls around us from the sustained bombardment. The kitchen that once served as our romantic hideaway is coming down around us.
“Ready to move?” I ask.
“Let’s go.”
We sprint from the disintegrating building toward the tree line while Viktor’s mercenaries focus their concentrated fire on the structures that they believe contain their primary targets—us. Our plan is still working; they’re wasting valuable ammunition on empty buildings while we reposition.
“Boris, status report,” I call once we reach the relative safety of the forest cover.
“We’re holding our positions, but barely. They’ve got us outnumbered approximately two to one.”
“Current casualty assessment?”
“Seven wounded, three KIA on our side. But we’ve eliminated at least fifteen of theirs, possibly more.”
Not terrible odds, but we’re burning through ammo faster than expected.
“Anya, any significant change in their communications?”
“They’re beginning to realize the buildings are mostly empty,” she reports from her monitoring position. “Viktor is ordering searches of the surrounding area.”
“How long before they figure out our positions?”
“Maybe eight to ten minutes if we’re lucky and they maintain their current search patterns.”
Through gaps in the trees, I observe Viktor’s assault teams clearing the burning estate buildings one by one. When they don’t find bodies, they’ll know we escaped and begin hunting us out here.
“All teams, draw back into the trees, and prepare for close-quarters combat. Enemy forces will be coming for us soon.”
“Copy that,” comes the response from multiple men.
The forest around us is about to become an active battlefield where individual skill matters more than superior numbers or heavy weapons.
“Dmitri.” Katya points through the trees toward the burning buildings.
I follow her line of sight and spot a familiar figure directing mercenary teams from a protected position behind an armored military vehicle. Viktor Petrov is personally coordinating the operation to eliminate us.
“The bastard actually showed for the finale,” I mutter.
“He wants to verify that we’re dead this time instead of trusting secondhand reports.”
Viktor is surrounded by six heavily armed bodyguards and maintaining a tactically sound distance from the fight, but his presence means this is more than just a cleanup operation. It’s a matter of revenge.
“I’m going after him,” Katya announces with cold, deadly purpose.
