Chapter 8 - Breaking the Line
The cold water in the drainage pipe soaked through Elena’s blouse, but she barely registered the chill. Her focus was entirely locked on the silhouettes guarding the mouth of the tunnel.
Julian pulled a small, silver canister from his vest. It was a military-grade flashbang. “When this detonates,” he whispered, his breath shallow against her ear, “you do not look. You sprint left toward the tree line. Titan will stay on your heels. There is a boathouse at the edge of the lake three hundred meters out.”
“What about you?” Elena asked, watching the dark stain of blood spreading wider across his white shirt.
“I will be right behind you,” Julian said, though the exhaustion in his eyes suggested otherwise. “Don’t look back. No matter what you hear.”
Julian pulled the pin with his teeth and hurled the canister with pinpoint precision. It bounced twice off the curved concrete and sailed directly out of the grate into the center of the mercenary squad.
“Cover!” a voice barked outside.
A blinding white flash turned the dark tunnel into an incandescent furnace, accompanied by a concussive roar that rattled the fillings in Elena’s teeth.
“Go!” Julian roared.
Elena burst from the tunnel like a sprinter, ducking her head against the lingering smoke. Titan was beside her, a black streak of pure fury, knocking down the first dazed soldier who stumbled into their path. Gunfire erupted behind them—erratic, unguided rounds shredding the pine needles and snapping branches overhead.
Julian fired three controlled shots from behind a boulder, suppressing the remaining mercenaries while Elena plunged into the thick pine forest. The mountain air bit at her face, tree branches whipping against her skin, her lungs burning with every stride.
Behind her, the sharp burst of an automatic rifle echoed, followed by a heavy, wet thud and a sharp gasp of pain.
May you like
Elena’s boots skidded on the wet pine needles. Her instincts screamed at her to keep running, but her heart seized in her chest. She looked over her shoulder.
Julian was down on one knee at the edge of the clearing, twenty meters behind. A pool of dark red was forming beneath his leg, his empty pistol clicking uselessly against an empty chamber as a mercenary raised an assault rifle to execute him.
