“Twelve. Maybe fifteen.” He checks the rifle’s load with steady hands. “We are not soldiers, but we protect what is ours.”
Brave. Foolish. Noble.
And completely insufficient against what’s coming.
Situational assessment flows without conscious thought. I monitor defensible positions, sight lines, choke points. The village layout forms in my mind like a battlefield map.
I’ve done this before.
The knowledge settles bone-deep. I’ve commanded troops. Assessed threats. Made life-or-death decisions under fire.
I just don’t remember when. Or where. Or for whom.
Another explosion; the well house disintegrating in flame and stone. Closer still.
They’re advancing methodically. Destroying infrastructure. Driving the villagers toward the center square.
Herding us.
“Listen to me.” I raise my voice, projecting authority I didn’t know I possessed. “Fall back to the square. Defensive positions around the central buildings. Children and elderly to the back. Anyone who can fight—rifles to high ground, form barricades.”
Andrei stares at me. “You know tactics.”
“Apparently.” I don’t waste time questioning it. “Can you coordinate the shooters?”
“Yes.”
“Do it. I’ll handle the rest.”
He nods once and moves to organize the others.
I scan for Mara—find her emerging from Dragana’s dwelling despite my explicit instructions to stay inside.
Of course.
Goddamn woman. Stubborn as hell.
“You need to get back—” I start.
“Don’t even.” Her voice is sharp. “I’m not hiding while people die defending me.”
“They’re not defending you. They’re defending their home.”
“Because we brought this here.” Guilt flashes across her face. “Because I ran into the night like an idiot and led them straight to you.”
“That is not—”
An operative appears at the eastern entrance.
He sees me. A device crackles at his shoulder. Some sort of communication instrument.
“Target acquired. Requesting suppression protoc—”
I move.
Don’t think. Don’t plan. Just act.
Three strides close the distance. My fist connects with his jaw before he finishes the sentence. Bone crunches. He drops like a stone before pushing himself to his knees. I’m behind him before he can find his feet, forearm locked around his throat, finding a pressure point. His eyes roll back in his head, and he goes limp against me.
