I see the flashes in the undergrowth, the muzzle glints, the way they fan out, covering every approach. Whoever sent them knew exactly how to hit, and when. My stomach twists. This isn’t some random hit—it’s an execution.
Leon draws his pistol, checks the clip, cursing under his breath. I press flat against the stones, head buzzing, heart thundering, mind racing back through memories I wish I’d forgotten.
All those years with my father’s guards—lessons drilled into me until muscle memory replaced panic. He’d called it “preparing me for the world.”
I’d called it survival.
A shape darts through the brush, one of the attackers sweeping wide. Leon raises his weapon, but he’s not fast enough—another gunman comes from the blind side, too close, too quiet. I act before I can think, darting out, grabbing the man’s wrist and wrenching down. His weapon clatters to the ground.
I slam my knee into his gut, pivot, and drive an elbow into his jaw. He goes down hard, the thud lost in the chaos.
Leon stares at me, a flicker of shock crossing his face. For a moment, I see the questions in his eyes—how, when, why—but there’s no time for answers.
“Left flank!” I call, scanning the woods, spotting another shadow creeping along the fence line.
Leon moves without hesitation, trusting my eyes, my instinct. He signals—two fingers, silent command—and we slip through the trees, using the uneven ground and thickets for cover.
The world narrows to adrenaline and breath. The attackers are everywhere, masked and merciless. I notice things Leon misses: a flash of movement behind a fallen log, a glint of glass on a rifle scope, the telltale pattern of boots circling wide.
Leon catches on quickly, following my signals without question. For a few desperate minutes, we are more than partners; we are a team, all old arguments burned away in the heat of survival.
We weave through the woods, doubling back, laying traps, moving in sync. Leon fires quick, precise shots, dropping one, then another. I lead him behind a cluster of boulders, pointing out a hidden path only visible from our angle. He nods, understanding without words, and we move: fast, efficient, silent.
A grenade lands too close, spraying earth and wood. I throw myself behind Leon, rolling as shrapnel hisses past. My heart pounds, but my hands are steady. I pick up a fallen rifle, checking the chamber.
Leon glances at me, a strange mix of pride and fear in his eyes. There’s no time for questions now.
We fall back toward the stream, using the bank as a barrier. The enemy presses in, relentless.
Leon curses under his breath. “They’re too organized. Not local muscle.”
“No,” I say, ducking a shot. “This is personal.”
He looks at me—really looks—and I see him putting the pieces together. The precision, the numbers, the perfect timing. There’s only one man left with the resources and the grudge to mount an assault like this.
“Vadim,” Leon breathes, voice low and raw. “He’s alive.”
The realization lands like a blow. Everything clicks into place—the reason we were targeted here, away from the city, at our most exposed.
Vadim knows Leon’s weaknesses. He knows about me.
My chest tightens. I force myself to stay sharp. “We can’t hold here. They’ll flank again.”
Leon nods. “Follow me.”
We move, low and fast, toward the far side of the woods, dodging bullets, breathing the wild, sharp air. Every instinct screams for me to run, but I stay at Leon’s back, covering him, reading the terrain the way I was taught.
Together, we carve a path through the onslaught, two people who have learned to survive by any means necessary.
We don’t stop. We can’t. There’s no time for fear or grief, no room for the past—only the desperate, unspoken promise to get each other out alive. I see the way Leon looks at me now, not just with shock or gratitude, but with a new kind of trust. For the first time, he knows what I am capable of… and what I’m willing to risk for him.
We disappear into the forest, gunfire echoing behind us, hearts pounding in time. The cabin, the peace, the fragile safety—it’s all gone now.
All that remains is the hunt, the memory of betrayal, and the shadow of a man who refuses to stay dead.
Somewhere behind us, Vadim is closing in. This time, there’s nowhere left to hide.
Gunfire cracks through the woods, closer now—too close. We move in a blur, darting from cover to cover, the world reduced to the frantic rhythm of running and the staccato echo of shots chasing us through the trees.
