The first one didn’t see me coming. I came up behind him while he was crouched behind a grain bin, waiting for his squad to move. My blade went across his throat before he could turn. He slumped forward. I took his position.
Eleven down.
The comm crackled. “Southeast corner. Two of them trying to breach.”
I moved.
The southeast corner of the farmhouse faced the old equipment shed. Two attackers had stacked up against the wall, preparing to force the side door. The point man had his shoulder against the frame, waiting for the signal.
I came around the corner of the shed at a dead run.
The first shot took the rear man in the spine. The point man spun, weapon rising.
Too late. I was already inside his reach. My blade found his throat.
Thirteen down.
A third came around the corner behind me. I hadn’t seen him.
His knife came in low, under my guard. I twisted, but not fast enough. The blade caught me across the ribs. Right side. Deep enough to feel, even through Vinduthi toughness.
I finished him anyway. Knife up through the jaw, into the brain. He died with his hand still on the weapon in my side.
The pain came a second later. Sharp and hot, spreading across my right flank. Blood soaked through my shirt. I pressed my left hand against the wound, felt the wet warmth pumping between my fingers.
Not lethal. Not immediately. Keep moving.
“Kallum.” Her voice in my ear. Tight. “Report.”
“Southeast clear. Three down.”
“You’re hurt.”
I looked down at the blood spreading across my hand. “Define hurt.”
“Kallum.”
“Later.” I pushed off from the wall. “How many left?”
A pause. She was counting, same as me. “Twelve. I think. They’re pulling back.”
I moved around the corner of the farmhouse. My right side burned with every step. The blade had gone between ribs, maybe nicked the muscle underneath. Bad, but functional. I could still fight.
But the remaining attackers were already vanishing into the tree line. Running now, not retreating. The difference mattered.
Silence settled over the farm. The kind that came after violence, thick and ringing.
I leaned against the farmhouse wall. My hand was still pressed against my side, blood seeping between my fingers. The adrenaline was fading. The pain was not.
The bastards had known who they’d be fighting. Had come prepared, coated their blades with some sort of toxin that fought against the natural healing powers of a Vinduthi.
This wasn’t good.
“Kallum.” Her voice in the comm again. Closer now.
I looked up.
She came around the corner of the barn, rifle still in her hands. Turnip trotted beside her, his tusks dark with blood. Her face was pale in the fading light, but her hands were steady.
