I lower the rifle, securing it across my back. For close quarters, I need something faster.
I pull my .45 from its holster. Check the magazine. Twelve rounds, one in the chamber. Knife on my belt. Backup Glock on my ankle.
Ready to kill everyone between me and Parker.
“On my mark,” Charles says. “Three.”
Jace and I move toward the front of the building, staying low, using trees for cover. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
“Two.”
We’re at the door. I can see two hostiles through the front windows. Both armed, both scanning the wrong direction.
“One.”
My hand’s on the door handle. Jace beside me, weapon raised.
“Mark.”
I kick the door in.
The wood splinters, the frame giving way under the force. I’m through the threshold before the door hits the wall, my .45 up and tracking.
First hostile is turning, weapon coming up. I put two rounds center mass, one in the head. He drops before his finger finds the trigger.
Second hostile is faster, gets a shot off. The round tears past my shoulder, close enough I feel the heat. I put three in his chest, tight grouping, professional. He goes down hard.
“Front entry secure,” Jace reports, moving past me to clear the next room. “Two hostiles down.”
Gunfire from the back of the house. Cal and Charles breaching simultaneously.
“Rear entry secure,” Charles reports. “Three hostiles down.”
We move deeper. Kitchen. Hallway. Every corner a potential death trap.
A hostile comes around the corner, rifle raised. Jace is faster, puts him down with a controlled burst. The body hits the floor, weapon clattering.
“Four down,” Jace says.
Gunfire erupts above us. Second floor hostiles firing through the floor, bullets punching through ceiling tiles, raining plaster and splinters.
I track the sound, return fire upward, emptying my magazine through the ceiling in a controlled pattern. Someone screams. The gunfire stops.
“Reloading,” I say, dropping the empty mag, slamming a fresh one home.
“Second floor, moving to engage,” Cal’s voice comes through. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs, his breathing controlled despite the adrenaline.
More gunfire. Sustained burst. Then silence.
“Two more down,” Cal reports. “Hallway secure.”
“Silas, Jace, status?” Charles asks.
“Moving toward Parker’s location,” Jace responds. We’re in the hallway now, approaching the room where I saw her through the window.
The door’s closed. Locked.
I don’t waste time. Boot to the door, right beside the handle. The frame splinters, the door swings inward.
