Page 50 of Vendetta
Ripper nodded, disappearing into the shadows like smoke.
“Outcast, Snow, cover him.Axel, on me.”
They moved slowly, in silence.Every step was a test of nerve.Until a shout cracked the quiet.Then a shot.Ripper’s suppressed rifle barked once, and the spotter folded, gone before he hit the tin.
That was when all hell broke loose.
From the front gate, the roar of engines shattered the stillness, and he knew it was Razor’s team.
“Showtime,” Vendetta muttered, keeping low as he sprinted to the next structure as alarms began to wail.
This was the breach.This was Baghdad, building by building.The muscle memory surged -- angles, cover, communication without a word.Fire and chaos to the front.Precision at the core.
“Split,” Vendetta ordered, panting now.“Shade goes right.We go left.”
Catching Shade’s gaze across the yard, he saw no hesitation.His friend peeled off into the smoke and floodlight glare with Hero and three more Hound soldiers.Gunfire broke out near the gate.Razor and Crash were drawing attention away from them, exactly as they’d planned.
Ripper fell in behind him with Axel, Outcast, and Snow, pressing into the flank.A figure bolted from a warehouse; Vendetta raised his weapon but held fire.The Cottonmouth was unarmed and running.
But there was more movement from the barracks.
“Eli’s close,” Vendetta said, voice tight.“You feel that?”
Outcast grinned, teeth white in the dark.“Yeah.It’s the stink of fear.”
They crept forward, sweeping corners and clearing structures as chaos broke out across the yard.Voices shouted orders.A few Cottonmouths fired wildly into the trees, probably not even sure what they were shooting at.That was the problem with half-loyal men.They stopped fighting when the cause didn’t mean shit to them.
Vendetta took a deep, steady breath.He hadn’t come here for noise.He’d come forjustice.For Dylan.For Tank and every piece of himself left bleeding in those woods.And he was going to fucking take it.Tonight.
Gunfire ripped through the night, closer now.Vendetta crouched low beside a rusted-out barrel as bullets kicked gravel at his boots.Across the yard, Axel returned fire in tight bursts, driving back two Cottonmouths pinned near a loading dock.
“They’re already folding,” Snow muttered, ejecting a spent mag.“They didn’t even commit to the line.”
Vendetta’s gaze tracked movement.He saw two more bolting from the barracks with weapons half-raised, looking confused and scattered.
“Because they know it’s over,” Vendetta said.He surged forward, cutting across the gap, Outcast and Ripper flanking left and right.Axel hit the outer wall of the main building first and dropped to one knee.
“Door’s locked,” he hissed.
Vendetta didn’t stop.He turned his shoulder, braced, and slammed into it.The old hinges groaned.On the third impact, the door gave, swinging inward with a screech.Nothing but smoke and shadows greeted them.They made it inside, into a narrow hallway lined with storage doors.Red exit lights flickered like failing pulse monitors.
Vendetta stepped in first, rifle raised, sweeping left.Ripper slipped past him, clearing right.A shot rang out from upstairs, close.The Cottonmouths were still here.
Outcast reached for his comm.“Shade, we’re in the main structure.Watch the upper floor.”
A pause.“Copy.Already clearing the south wing.They’re scattering.Trucker’s down.Creep’s bleeding.Eli’s running for it.”
Vendetta’s heart slammed.“He’s here,” he growled.“He’s still fucking here.”
Ripper jerked his chin toward the stairwell.“End of the hallway.”
“Then let’s fucking finish this,” Vendetta said, his voice low and sharp as a knife.
They pushed forward in formation, a team forged in blood.Two Cottonmouths burst out from a side door, Axel fired point-blank, dropping one.The other lunged with a blade, barely missing Outcast’s arm before Vendetta laid him out with the butt of his rifle.They reached the stairwell with its narrow concrete steps.Old lights flickered above them.
Vendetta turned to them all.“Anyone not ready to see this through, say it now.”
No one moved.
