Leaving the dead lieutenant behind, I stride down the hall like the Grim Reaper, stepping over bodies and adding others to the piles.
My boots leave bloody prints on the concrete. Each shot I fire is precise, economical.
Another Serbian breaks cover, screaming as he charges me with a knife. Poor bastard must have run out of ammo. I sidestep his wild swing and put him down with a double tap to the chest. Textbook.
In the warehouse beyond me, the gunfire is already starting to die down. It’s been less than fifteen minutes since we breached, but the warehouse floor is littered with Serbian corpses. A few survivors have thrown down their weapons, hands raised in surrender. They won’t last long.
I key my radio. “Building secure. Phase one complete.”
Feliks’s voice returns: “All the rest of
