Page 68 of Tattooed Heart

I pull my gun from its holster, checking it systematically. I slide it back into place and arm myself with additional weapons. The cold metal against my skin grounds me.

“Ten minutes to positions,” Aleksandr instructs, checking his watch. “Communications check.”

One by one, my men confirm their radios are operational. This isn’t our first ambush, but the stakes have never been higher for me.

As the others disperse to their positions, Aleksandr catches my arm. “Brat,” he says, voice low enough that only I can hear. “Don't lose focus. Remember what happened in Odessa.”

I shrug off his hand. “Odessa was different.”

“Was it?” His gaze pierces through me. “You let personal feelings cloud your judgment. It nearly got you killed.”

“I won't make the same mistake twice.” My voice betrays nothing of the turmoil inside me.

“See that you don't.”

The cool night air brushes against my exposed skin as we approach the north entrance of the warehouse. My breath comes slow and deliberate, and every sense heightens to excruciating awareness.

The steel doors of the north entrance creak open under my hand. We slip inside, the darkness enveloping us whole. My pulse remains steady. The dangerous calm that comes before blood is spilled.

Inside, the warehouse stinks of mildew, oil, and rotting wood. Stacks of rusted crates loom around us. A generator hums somewhere in the distance, and above it, a low, guttural laugh drifts from the far corner.

I signal Aleksandr. We move like specters through the gloom, navigating by memory and instinct.

“Power going down in thirty seconds,” Viktor whispers through the comm.

Two guards round the corner, their figures barely visible in the dim light. I put them down without a sound. One bullet each, clean through the skull. They drop before their weapons even clear their holsters.

Behind me, Aleksandr moves with similar efficiency, taking down another guard who appears from a side passage. No wasted movement. No hesitation.

“North corridor secure,” I murmur into the comm.

“East side meeting resistance,” comes Ivan's strained reply, followed by the distant pop of gunfire.

We sweep through the corridors, advancing deeper into the warehouse. The sounds of combat echo from multiple directions, our men engaging Morozov's guards in short, brutal bursts. A sudden crackle over the comm confirms Viktor has cut the power. The warehouse plunges into total darkness.

Perfect.

I flip down my night vision goggles, and the world transforms into shades of green. I move with renewed confidence, scanning each room we pass. They’re all empty.

Where is he keeping her?

A guard appears at the end of the hallway, alerted by the sounds of gunfire. I take aim and squeeze the trigger. His body crumples to the floor.

“We found something,” Yuri's voice comes through the comm. “Lower level. Looks like an entrance to a basement or sublevel. Heavily guarded.”

My heart rate picks up slightly. “On my way. Hold position.”

I signal to Aleksandr, and we change direction, heading toward the coordinates Yuri sent.

As we approach, the sounds of gunfire intensify. Yuri and his team exchange fire with at least six of Morozov's men, using a stack of crates as cover.

Aleksandr analyzes the situation in seconds. “Dimitri, left flank. I'll take the right.”

I move into position, using the darkness to my advantage. Morozov's men are focused on Yuri's frontal assault, leaving their sides vulnerable.

I emerge from behind a concrete pillar and open fire. Two men go down immediately. The others turn in confusion, caught between multiple lines of attack. Aleksandr's bullets find two more. The last pair attempts to retreat, but Yuri's team cuts them down before reaching the door they are guarding.

Silence falls again, broken only by the distant sounds of combat elsewhere in the warehouse.

---