Page 179 of Blood & Snow
The whole store front is dark.
A Sokolov guard stands in the alley beside the building, cigarette glowing in the darkness.
That tiny flicker of light is the only indication of his size or position but I drop him with two suppressed shots before he can shout a warning, his body crumpling against a brick wall.
"Breach positions," I order through my com unit.
Igor moves to the main entrance with the battering ram.
And I know Ivan's team is covering the rear exit.
The rest of us wait, lined along the front of the store in crouching positions for the count.
"Three. two. one…" Igor's arms heft the long heavy ram and swing, the arc of steel and muscle slamming into the doorframe with a crack that rattles through the building.
Wood splinters.
Hinges scream.
He pulls back, momentum dragging the weight low, then swings again—harder, tighter—until the rhythm becomes mechanical.
Impact.
Recoil.
Reset.
Each blow turns the door into less of a barrier and more of an obstacle begging to collapse.
When the door is finally open, darkness greets us, thick with the smell of flour and yeasty pastries.
I hear movement somewhere in the back and for good reason. Smashing a door down is loud.
There was no way we were ever getting into this place without them knowing.
Muzzle flashes strobe from the stairwell.
Bullets sparkoff industrial ovens and shatter display cases, raining glass across tile floors.
I return fire while advancing and lay cover fire for my men who file in behind me.
A Sokolov soldier appears from behind the counter, shotgun raised.
Igor's burst catches him under the chin, spinning him backward into shelving that topples and falls on him.
Flour bags split open, white powder billowing into the air.
"Second floor," Ivan reports through the radio.
"Three hostiles down."
We move deeper into the building knowing Ivan is handling the upstairs and we push through the kitchen toward the back of the shop where ovens, not yet turned on today, clutter the space creating a bottleneck.
We have to go single file, and I'm in the lead.
Footsteps thunder overhead, followed by shouting in Russian.
They're preparing for our final assault, gathering forces for a last stand and fighting Ivan and the few men who move with him.
