Page 9 of Shadow Blind

Another pause crawled over the comm. Then, “Pulling.”

Minutes ticked by while his team shifted uneasily behind him. As they waited, the cold dug in, chilling skin previously warmed by adrenaline and exercise. They needed to get moving again. Movement was their best defense against the sub-zero weather—at least until they returned to their exfil site and dug into their cold weather kits.

“The newest images are consistent with the earlier ones,” the spook said. “Nothing concerning. We are a go. Repeat, we are a go.”

Aiden stepped forward, forcing his resistant muscles to move. Something sure had his bowels in a twist.

When they reached the summit, they went belly down on the rocky, snow-smudged ground. Karaveht lay dark and silent below. A chill skated down his spine as he examined the messy rows of houses. Not a damn light on in any of them. Sure, it was late, barely zero-three-hundred, but you’d think someone would have left a light on.

His chest, abdomen, and legs tried to root themselves into the ground. Christ, he didn’t want to go down there.

Just do your job.

He forced himself up and over the ridge. The ground was rocky and slick. They took their time, testing each step, descending as stealthily as possible. By the time they reached the outskirts of Karaveht, his danger alarm was shrieking nonstop.

They moved forward, rifles up. A dozen paces in, his scope fell on a huddled lump in the middle of the street. They slowed, cautiously approaching. The smell of blood was faint at first but grew stronger with each step. It was minus ten degrees. There had to be a lot of blood involved for him to smell anything at all. In subzero temperatures, the olfactory system had trouble detecting and categorizing scents.

The lump separated into two forms as he got closer. Humans. Both dead. A lake of red surrounded them. No one could survive losing that much blood. One body lay face down, the other, face up. He tapped the heel of his boot against the pool of blood. It crunched and splintered. Frozen. Which meant these two had been dead so long ago their blood had cooled and froze.

The body facing up was a male in his sixties, with a gaping split across his throat. A bloody serrated knife still touched his fingers. Squirrel squatted beside Aiden, watching him turn the second body over. It was female. Younger than the male. She wore the traditional straight dress, trousers, and colorful embroidered shawl of a mountain woman.

Squirrel used his rifle barrel to nudge the tatters of her dress aside. “She was stabbed. Repeatedly.”

Grubb scanned the scene. “If someone killed them and left, they’d leave bloody footprints behind. There are none, and the knife is next to him. Looks like he used the knife on her first and then slit his own throat.”

Had this asshole killed his wife and then himself? Suicide by slitting your own throat was unusual. Plus, they’d been dead for hours. Why hadn’t anyone moved the bodies out of the road?

“Let’s find Kuznetsov, collect the drone shit and get out.” Aiden rose to his feet.

According to their intel, their target’s residence was a narrow, one-story mud-brick building in the middle of town. They moved toward it, clinging to the shadows, their boots crunching against the crusty snow. The door to the second house stood wide open. And the blood smell was even stronger than up the road. Aiden’s chest tightened. An open door in the middle of February? In minus-ten-degree weather? Along with the scent of blood? This could not be good.

He skirted the door and froze at the sight of the bodies behind it.

A whole damn family. All dead. All bloody as hell.

“Fuck. She’s just a kid.” Aiden squatted next to the closest child and turned her over. Eight or nine years of age, with a bloody hole in her forehead. Her tattered, tiny dress and pants were iced with blood, indicating she’d suffered more than just the gunshot wound. His gut churned. It was always hard to see a dead kid. So senseless, so much lost potential. But this…

He rose to his feet, turning to the other bodies. Squirrel and Grub had flipped them over until they faced up. Their bodies were covered with frozen blood, half their faces and heads gone. A rifle and two handguns lay on the ground among them. The carnage was senseless. This hit hadn’t come from a terrorist sect. Shitkickers didn’t waste ammo.

“What the fuck happened?” Benny asked, his wiry body rigid.

“Again, no footprints walking away.” Grub’s voice was thin. “And these wounds are close range.” He glanced at the guns on the ground. “Looks like the adults killed each other and the kids.”

A single lover’s quarrel was one thing. But a mother and father killing each other, and their kids? Plus, the sheer violence of the scene. It looked like the couple down the road and this family here had gone fucking crazy and slaughtered each other.

Something was very wrong in Karaveht. Was Kuznetsov behind the bloodshed? That’s when he remembered the live camera feed.

“Base,” he said. “You see this?”

“Affirmative.” Montana sounded nonplussed.

“You know anything about this?” Aiden’s voice went hard, accusatory.

What were the odds they’d walk into something so messed up while testing this new continuous video feed? Had someone up the ladder known his team would stumble into this shit show?

“How the hell would I know about this?” Montana sounded pissed, like he’d picked up on Aiden’s unspoken accusation. “Get the drone intel and get out.”

Aiden glanced down as Grub rose from where he’d turned one of the kids over.

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