Page 118 of Forbidden Empire
My heart hammered in my chest so loud it was all I could hear. I couldn’t look away. Every muscle in my body was wired and waiting, my gaze flickering between Ares and the guard, my finger ready on the trigger if things went sideways.
A quick scan told me the others were just as tense, crouched in position, all of us coiled tight, ready to strike if it meant saving our brother.
The guard sat slouched in the dim, suffocating heat of the shack, screen glow painting his broad face a sickly, unnatural green. He was massive, dwarfing even Ares.
There would be no force against force here. The only option was surprise. I watched as Ares slipped into that familiar predatory quiet.
It was almost funny, the way he deployed the very skill I’d so often cursed him for. God, how many times had he startled me just for the hell of it?
Swore it was a habit from his military days, prowling through sleeping barracks like a shadow. I always found it unnerving. He found it hilarious.
Now, though, I watched him like an apprentice studying the master.
He moved with an almost unnatural patience, a slow, deliberate drift through darkness, every movement measured and spare. Not so much as a crunch in the red Nevada dirt. His gaze locked unblinking on the guard, the way a wolf might fixate on the softest part of its prey. The tension in our little group was electric, thick enough to choke on, humming through the hot night air.
The guard snorted at his phone, oblivious. Instantly, Ares paused, every muscle tensed mid-motion, a statue sculpted from midnight.
I barely breathed. The moment stretched and snapped, and then Ares was moving again, circling behind the shack, keeping low, slipping out of the cameras’ sight lines as he closed in on the open entrance.
A handful of feet. That was all that separated them now.
Ares crossed the threshold, soundless, a ghost. The guard never stood a chance. One heartbeat, he was scrolling, chuckling under his breath, and the next, the cold mouth of a gun pressed into his temple, a bullet tearing through bone and brain before he could even scream.
He hit the floor with a wet, conclusive thud.
Ares didn’t hesitate. He dropped low, listening, every sense straining for footsteps, alarms, any sign the kill had been noticed. I swept the property with my eyes, heart hammering, searching for movement.
Nothing. Not a whisper.
Whatever strings we’d pulled inside, they’d worked. The guard was dead, and nobody else was any wiser.
Perfect.
“Let’s go,” I hissed, the instant Ares raised his hand. Instinct took over.
We dropped low, melting into the shadows, every movement silent and calculated. Ahead, Ares reached for the button.
The gate responded with a tortured, bone-deep groan, metal scraping against metal, as it yawned open.
We slipped through the gap like smoke, leaving the dead guard sprawled behind us in his gory, makeshift coffin. The stench of blood clung to my nostrils.
I kept one eye on Esme, the other on the door ahead, lungs tight with anticipation. A silent plea flickered across my mind: let us survive this.
Ares moved first, stalking ahead with predatory grace. He pressed his ear to the door, hand hovering over his weapon. Tension thrummed in the air.
He tested the knob, slow and cautious. “Locked,” he murmured, voice barely audible.
He didn’t waste time.
A single shot. The handle exploded in a violent spray of metal shards, echoing through the corridor like a war drum.
“Guess if they weren’t awake before, they are now,” I muttered, adrenaline sharpening my words.
“Damn straight,” Ares shot back, a wicked grin flashing across his lips. “Brace yourselves, kids. Here we go.”
We stormed through the door.
As expected, enemies surged down the corridor toward us, heavy boots pounding, weapons raised and lethal. The crack of gunfire shattered the air.
