Before, I had only my life to lose. Now, I’d gladly trade that if it meant Natalia and my daughter could be safe. And I will, if it comes to it. Without a second thought.
Which is why, with my men at my back and flanking the house, I charge in.
The house is dark and musty. Dust fills the air after I kick the door in. Before it can settle, gunshots ring out. I spot the shooter behind a rotted-out sofa, and he drops with a single shot to the head. Shura takes out another near the fireplace. A third fires, but falls back with a hole the size of my fist in his chest.
Sheetrock dust and gunpowder combine into a haze so thick no one can see, but we don’t stop moving, don’t stop shooting. Men on both sides drop and scream as bullets wail through the air, but we press on.
I turn a corner and a
