Chapter 9 - Standing in the Fire

Two black, armored SUVs ground to a halt fifty yards down the clearing, their tires chewing through wet pine needles. Doors swung open in unison. Four men in tactical plate carriers stepped out, carrying suppressed carbines. Sterling emerged from the rear passenger door of the lead vehicle, unbuttoning his bespoke overcoat, his expression as tidy as a bank ledger.
"Adrian," Sterling called out over the wind. "You’ve made this dramatically more complicated than it needed to be."
Adrian stood tall on the porch, rifle resting casually across his forearm. "You came all this way for an empty house, Sterling."
Sterling checked his watch. "The child isn't here. Which means they took the south cut. Miller, take the second truck and cut them off at the bridge."
Before the mercenary could turn toward the vehicle, Adrian leveled the rifle and fired.
The heavy bullet tore through the front engine block of the second SUV with a deafening crack. Steam and oil erupted violently through the punctured grill. The men instantly scattered, diving for cover behind tree trunks as automatic fire shredded the porch railings in a splintering roar.
Wood exploded around Adrian. A bullet grazed his left shoulder, opening a bright crimson line, but he didn't retreat. He dropped behind the stone masonry of the outdoor fireplace, racked another round, and fired again, shattering the windshield of the lead truck.
"You don't leave this ridge, Sterling!" Adrian shouted over the gunfire, his voice echoing off the valley walls like rolling thunder.
"Kill him!" Sterling barked from behind the reinforced door. "Don't bother taking him alive!"
Two tactical operatives advanced in flanking maneuvers, using the thick hemlocks for cover. Adrian knew every foot of this earth. Julian and he had played here as boys; they had set deer traps and built tree platforms.
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Adrian slipped through the shattered side window into the cabin, moving like a phantom despite his agony. When the first operative kicked through the back door, Adrian came out of the shadows. He deflected the carbine barrel upward with his left forearm, stepping inside the man’s reach, and drove a savage heel-palm strike into the throat. The operative collapsed, gasping for air.
Adrian stripped the sidearm and spare magazines from the vest, his eyes blazing with cold fire.