Chapter 4 - The Sound of Gunfire
The intruder did not pull the trigger immediately. For a fraction of a second, the lead operative paused, lowering his barrel slightly as his night-vision goggles resolved the silhouette of the dog.
""Target Specimen 09 sighted,"" the lead man muttered into his throat microphone, his voice echoing faintly up the stairwell. ""Abort lethal shot on the canine. Recover alive. Neutralize the primary occupant.""
That split-second hesitation was the only opening Bruno needed.
With explosive power that cracked a floorboard beneath his hind legs, the hound launched himself downward across the mahogany steps. He did not leap clumsily; he descended like a falling boulder, hitting the lead operative square in the chest before the man could raise his weapon again. The operative’s body crashed violently against the marble foyer floor, his helmet cracking against the bottom newel post with a sickening crunch.
Gunfire erupted instantly from the three remaining operatives. Muzzle flashes strobed through the darkness like violent lightning strikes. Bullets chewed through the banister, sending jagged splinters of aged oak flying into Julian’s face.
Julian leaned over the rail, returning fire in controlled double-taps. His first pair of shots struck the leftmost shooter in the shoulder and throat, dropping him backward into the shattered glass of a grandfather clock.
Down below, Bruno rolled off the first man, teeth bared, catching the barrel of a second operative's rifle between his jaws and jerking with brutal leverage. The weapon twisted out of the man's grasp with the snap of dislocated fingers. The operative drew a combat knife, slashing viciously across Bruno’s flank.
Bruno didn't flinch. He clamped down on the man's forearm with crushing hydraulic force, bone shattering audibly beneath the thick leather sleeve.
Julian bounded down the remaining steps, dispatching the third operative with a point-blank round to the chest plate before turning his weapon on the last standing man.
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The last operative threw his hands up, falling back against the heavy front door, bleeding from shrapnel wounds. ""Wait! Vance... wait! You don't know what you're holding!"" the man gasped, gasping behind a cracked ballistic mask.
Before Julian could interrogate him, a single high-caliber sniper round tore through the double oak doors from the dark driveway outside, punching through the operative’s skull and obliterating him against the wall.
