Page 70 of Whispers and Warriors
TWENTY-SIX
Chris duckedbehind a crate as a hail of bullets peppered the deck where he’d been standing a split second before. The acrid scent of gunpowder filled his nostrils, the din of battle a familiar symphony to his battle-hardened senses.
A quick sweep of his surroundings revealed a scene of barely controlled chaos. The attackers were a ragtag bunch, their movements erratic and their strategy haphazard. In contrast, Chris’s unit moved like a well-oiled machine, their formation tight and their response disciplined. He’d lost sight of them for a moment, but they’d found each other again.
“Flank left!” Chris barked into his comm, already moving to cover the right side. “Neutralize the hostiles on the bridge!”
His men obeyed without hesitation, trust and training overriding any fear. Chris felt a swell of pride even as he coolly assessed the enemy’s weaknesses, his mind racing to formulate a plan.
These bastards had no idea who they were messing with. Chris had faced far worse odds and come out on top. And now, with the stakes higher than ever, with Emma and his brothers’ lives on the line? Failure was not an option.
Chris gritted his teeth and reloaded his weapon, preparing to lead the charge. He would end this, swiftly and decisively. And then he would return to his loves, holding them close and never letting go.
“On me!” he commanded, his voice ringing with authority. “Let’s show these sons of bitches what happens when they mess with our family.”
With adrenaline pumping through his veins and ice-cold focus sharpening his every sense, Chris stormed forward, a man possessed by the need to protect what was his. Heaven help anyone who stood in his way.
Nearby, William ducked and wove through the chaos, his agility and quick reflexes serving him well. He moved like a dancer, fluid and graceful, even as he struck with deadly precision.
Chris couldn’t get to him as a man with a knife lunged.
With a snarl of determination, William lunged forward, grappling with his attacker. They struggled for control of the knife, muscles straining and breaths coming in harsh pants.
But William was fueled by a fierce protectiveness, a burning need to defend his loved ones. With a burst of strength, he wrenched the knife free and plunged it into his attacker’s neck, a spray of crimson staining his hands.
As the man gurgled and fell, William staggered back, his chest heaving. The battle raged on around him, but for a moment, all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart.
“Will!” Chris’s voice snapped him back to the present. “On your right!”
Instinctively, William spun, raising his weapon just in time to block another blow. He fell back into the rhythm of the fight, his movements sure and deadly.
The helicopter seemed to fall back, its blades slicing through the air with a menacing thrum, but shifting far enough back itwouldn’t crash on the ship. The vehicle was heavily armed, a flying fortress bristling with machine guns and rocket launchers. It hovered over the ship like a predatory bird, ready to rain down destruction.
“Take aim!” Chris roared over the chaos, his voice cutting through the din like a knife. “Concentrate fire on that helo!”
Rifles snapped up in unison, each man finding his target with practiced ease. A hailstorm of bullets peppered the helicopter’s armored hide, sparks flying as metal met metal.
But the aircraft was built to withstand such an assault. It shuddered under the onslaught but remained airborne, its weapons swiveling to return fire. The deck erupted in a series of explosions as rockets slammed into the ship, sending shockwaves through the metal structure.
Chris gritted his teeth, his mind racing. Conventional weapons weren’t enough. They needed something with more punch. His eyes fell on William’s ammo bag, a plan forming in his mind.
“Will!” he shouted, gesturing toward the bag. “Grenade!”
William didn’t hesitate. He yanked a grenade from the bag and tossed it to Chris, the movement smooth and practiced. Chris caught it deftly, his fingers curling around the cool metal.
The helicopter banked around for another pass, its guns spooling up with a high-pitched whine. Chris knew he had only seconds to act.
With a deep breath, he pulled the pin and let the spoon fly free. The grenade was heavy in his hand, a promise of destruction waiting to be unleashed.
“Fire in the hole!” he bellowed, his arm cocking back.
Time seemed to crawl to a halt as Chris unleashed the grenade with every ounce of strength he possessed. It soared through the air like a harbinger of doom against the vast, indifferent sky. For a fraction of a second, the entire worldseemed to hold its breath. Then, with deadly precision, the grenade struck its target, vanishing into the helicopter’s open doorway.
The explosion erupted with a cataclysmic roar, a thunderous blast that shattered the very fabric of the air. The helicopter was obliterated in a fiery inferno, a hellish maelstrom of metal shards and blazing fuel cascading down onto the turbulent waves below. The shockwave of the detonation jolted the ship violently, sending men sprawling and grasping desperately for anything to anchor themselves.
Amidst the pandemonium, Chris stood resolute, his eyes steely as he watched the smoldering wreckage of the helicopter succumb to the ocean’s depths. The acrid stench of smoke and burning fuel invaded his senses, and the searing heat of the flames licked at his skin with a fiery vengeance.
He turned to his men, his expression grim but determined. “Regroup and reload,” he ordered, his voice steady despite the adrenaline pumping through him. “There can’t be too many left. Let’s give them a proper send off.”
