38. Dmitri
Dmitri
Dmitri
Viktor’s mercenaries unleash hell the second they realize we’re ready for them.
“All teams, weapons free,” I snap into the radio as grenades hammer the estate. The blasts are meant to bury us, but we’re already out of range.
“Eastern perimeter engaging,” Boris cuts in. “Six hostiles through the gardens. Body armor. Heavy weapons.”
I seize Katya’s good arm and haul her behind the reinforced kitchen counter. Through the broken windows, muzzle flashes strobe—fifteen, maybe more—as Viktor’s assault team pours fire into the house.
“They brought serious firepower,” Katya comments as she checks her weapon’s magazine and adjusts her position to favor her injured shoulder.
“So did we.”
Sniper cracks split the night as my marksmen fire from the trees. Viktor’s men push forward, but every step takes them deeper into the overlapping fields we set hours ago.
“South approach—eight with launchers,” Alexei rasps.
“Team Beta, intercept and eliminate,” I order.
On the surviving monitors, I watch Viktor’s mercs move with textbook cover, constant comms, and perfect spacing. Professional. But it all drives them straight into our kill zones.
“Northern team taking heavy fire,” someone calls through the radio. “They’re trying to punch through our defensive line with concentrated assault.”
“Team Charlie, reinforce northern positions and hold the line.”
Katya moves to the broken window to engage targets with controlled bursts from her assault rifle. Her FSB training shows in every movement as she acquires targets, fires with deadly accuracy, and repositions without wasting precious ammunition.
“Twelve o’clock, two hostiles behind the burning garage structure,” she shouts while tracking movement through her weapon sight.
I pivot and put three rounds center mass into each target. Both men drop like lead, their military-grade body armor insufficient protection against close-range rifle fire delivered with such accuracy.
“Excellent shooting,” she praises as she reloads.
“You, too. Your training is showing.”
Another massive explosion rocks the building as Viktor’s rocket teams continue their destruction of the estate. Debris and plaster rain from the damaged ceiling, but the kitchen’s reinforced construction is holding up better than we initially expected.
“Anya, status report on enemy communications?” I call to her mobile command post that we set up near the lake.
“They’re coordinating a three-pronged military assault,” her voice comes back through the radio static. “Main force pushing through the center, flanking teams advancing on both sides. Standard doctrine from someone with serious tactical training.”
“Any mention of forest positions or alternate defensive strategies?”
“Negative on both counts. They still believe we’re trapped inside the buildings and fighting a conventional defense.”
Perfect. Viktor’s people are executing a textbook assault on fixed positions while we’re conducting a mobile defense from superior terrain that we know intimately.
“Movement detected on the rear approach,” Boris announces. “Four hostiles with military breaching equipment heading for the back entrance.”
“Alexei, can your team handle that incursion?”
“Already engaging the targets,” my brother responds, followed by the sound of sustained gunfire from behind the house.
He and Katya are fighting through significant injuries, but neither would consider sitting out this final confrontation with Viktor’s network.
“Rear breach team neutralized,” Alexei reports with satisfaction, “but we’ve got additional movement incoming from the eastern tree line.”
“How many additional hostiles?”
“At least six, possibly more. They’re using the forest cover to advance on our established positions.”
I curse. Viktor is adapting faster than expected, using our terrain advantages against us in ways we didn’t fully anticipate.
“All teams, be advised that enemy forces are advancing through the woods. Watch your backgrounds and identify targets carefully before engaging. Avoid friendly fire.”
“Copy that, boss,” comes the acknowledgement from multiple team leaders.
Things get nastier as Viktor’s people realize we’re not going down easy. They’re good at what they do, but we picked this ground for a reason.
We move from the kitchen to the shattered front windows, staying low as bullets punch through what’s left of the walls. From this position, we can cover most of the courtyard and gardens.
“Three o’clock,” Katya calls.
Two men break cover. I drop one. The other ducks behind a planter.
“I see him,” she mutters, putting three rounds through stone. Silence.
“Got him.”
We’re working together like we’ve been doing this for years instead of minutes. Her training and my street experience make one hell of a combination.
“Dmitri,” Boris crackles. “We’ve got a serious problem. More vehicles on the main road.”
“How many?”
“Three more military trucks. Viktor brought a substantial second wave.”
The fight just tipped. We planned for one push, not forty mercs with military toys.
“Can we hold against those numbers?”
“We’re about to find out whether superior tactics can overcome superior numbers.”
Through the broken windows, I see the new vehicles rapidly disgorging armed figures who advance toward our positions. Viktor’s not just trying to eliminate immediate threats. He’s attempting to overwhelm us with numbers and firepower.
“All teams, be advised that we have significant reinforcements incoming. Conserve ammunition and choose targets for maximum effectiveness.”
“Boss,” comes a tense voice through the radio, “we’re taking serious casualties on the western perimeter. Four wounded, two KIA.”
“Fall back to secondary positions if necessary. Don’t let them overwhelm your defensive lines through attrition.”
The sound of combat grows as Viktor’s reinforcements join the battle with fresh weapons and ammunition. Automatic weapons fire echoes continuously through the forest while rocket explosions continue to demolish the estate’s buildings.
“Katya, we need to move,” I tell her as another rocket impacts dangerously close to our position. “They’re concentrating on this building.”
She whips her head from side to side. “Where should we reposition to?”
“The forest, where we can coordinate the defense more effectively from mobile locations.”
We gather our weapons and remaining ammunition while debris falls around us from the sustained bombardment. The kitchen that once served as our romantic hideaway is coming down around us.
“Ready to move?” I ask.
“Let’s go.”
We sprint from the disintegrating building toward the tree line while Viktor’s mercenaries focus their concentrated fire on the structures that they believe contain their primary targets—us. Our plan is still working; they’re wasting valuable ammunition on empty buildings while we reposition.
“Boris, status report,” I call once we reach the relative safety of the forest cover.
“We’re holding our positions, but barely. They’ve got us outnumbered approximately two to one.”
“Current casualty assessment?”
“Seven wounded, three KIA on our side. But we’ve eliminated at least fifteen of theirs, possibly more.”
Not terrible odds, but we’re burning through ammo faster than expected.
“Anya, any significant change in their communications?”
“They’re beginning to realize the buildings are mostly empty,” she reports from her monitoring position. “Viktor is ordering searches of the surrounding area.”
“How long before they figure out our positions?”
“Maybe eight to ten minutes if we’re lucky and they maintain their current search patterns.”
Through gaps in the trees, I observe Viktor’s assault teams clearing the burning estate buildings one by one. When they don’t find bodies, they’ll know we escaped and begin hunting us out here.
“All teams, draw back into the trees, and prepare for close-quarters combat. Enemy forces will be coming for us soon.”
“Copy that,” comes the response from multiple men.
The forest around us is about to become an active battlefield where individual skill matters more than superior numbers or heavy weapons.
“Dmitri.” Katya points through the trees toward the burning buildings.
I follow her line of sight and spot a familiar figure directing mercenary teams from a protected position behind an armored military vehicle. Viktor Petrov is personally coordinating the operation to eliminate us.
“The bastard actually showed for the finale,” I mutter.
“He wants to verify that we’re dead this time instead of trusting secondhand reports.”
Viktor is surrounded by six heavily armed bodyguards and maintaining a tactically sound distance from the fight, but his presence means this is more than just a cleanup operation. It’s a matter of revenge.
“I’m going after him,” Katya announces with cold, deadly purpose.
“But your shoulder?—”
“Is holding up well enough,” she interrupts.
I shake my head and respond, “We should stick together, Katya.”
“No. Viktor’s mine. He ordered my execution, used me as his scapegoat, and tried to destroy everything I care about.”
Before I can argue with her, she’s moving through the trees. Every step shows her FSB background as she uses the cover of the trees to approach Viktor’s position undetected.
“Shit.” I spit out before I pick up my radio. “Boris, I need covering fire on Viktor’s location. Katya’s going after him.”
“Got it, boss. We’ll keep his bodyguards busy.”
Gunfire erupts around Viktor’s position as my men create chaos to cover Katya’s approach. Through my binoculars, I watch her move like a ghost through the forest, using every tree and shadow to stay hidden.
Viktor knows something’s wrong when his bodyguards start taking fire from directions they weren’t expecting. He moves toward an armored vehicle while his security team covers him.
“Viktor’s trying to run,” I report over the radio.
“He won’t get far,” Katya responds.
She appears behind Viktor’s group like death itself. Her shoulder doesn’t slow her as she drops his guards, one by one.
Viktor spins around when he realizes he’s under attack, and terror spreads across his face when he sees his former asset coming for him.
“Agent Sidorov,” he calls out, his hands raised. “We can work this out like professionals.”
“There’s nothing to work out,” Katya replies, her voice carrying through the trees.
“I was following orders from Moscow. I have proof I was acting under FSB authority. You don’t have to spend your life as a fugitive.”
Viktor’s making one last desperate play to save his skin. For a second, I wonder if she might consider going back to her old life.
Then, she pulls the trigger.
Three to the chest. Viktor is dead before he hits the dirt.
The man who spent months, maybe longer, trying to manipulate and kill her has been eliminated by the woman he tried to destroy.
“Target down,” she reports without an ounce of emotion.
Gunfire fades as Viktor’s men realize their boss is dead. Leaderless, they fall back to the trucks.
“Hostiles retreating,” Boris reports.
“Let them go,” I say. “We got what we came for.”
The fight is over. Viktor’s network is finished, his mercenaries are running, and he’s dead in the dirt. Most importantly, Katya made her choice when she pulled the trigger.
I make my way through the trees to where she’s standing over Viktor’s body. Her face shows nothing as she stares down at her former handler.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Free,” she exhales. “Completely free.”
“Any regrets?”
She snorts. “About killing the man who ordered my death? Not one.”
She looks at me. The divided loyalty is gone. She’s ours now.
I sling an arm around her and steer her away from Viktor’s corpse. Behind us, the estate burns—our lies going up in flames.
Ahead of us is something real, built on choices we made together.
The war is over. We won.