Chapter 8 - The Siege Begins
The crunch of tires on gravel broke the silence at 2:00 AM.
Three matte-black SUVs cut their headlights as they rolled up the driveway.
I counted twelve men through the night-vision scope of my rifle. Heavily armed, moving in tactical formation.
Marcus stepped out of the center vehicle, his arm in a fresh cast.
"Sweep the perimeter! Burn it down if you have to, but I want his head!" Marcus barked.
They approached the porch.
"Now," I whispered into my comms earpiece.
Claire, positioned at the rear flank, opened fire first.
Three suppressed shots. Three men dropped silently into the snowy grass.
The tactical team panicked, turning their weapons toward the woods.
That gave me the opening. I kicked open the heavy oak door and unleashed a hail of gunfire from my assault rifle.
Two more mercenaries fell before they even registered where the bullets were coming from.
"Return fire! Return fire!" Marcus screamed, diving behind a vehicle.
Wood splintered around me as heavy caliber rounds tore through the cabin walls.
I dropped to the floor, crawling toward the kitchen island for cover.
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"Front is hot," I relayed. "How is the back?"
"Clear," Claire’s voice came through crisp and calm. "Moving to flank."
