Chapter 17 - Extraction
The journey back through the burning warehouse felt like navigating the circles of hell.
Flames licked at the ceiling, melting the industrial wiring and showering them with deadly sparks.
Clara struggled under the dead weight of Silas’s legs, her muscles burning with exhaustion.
Victor carried the brunt of the burden, moving with a relentless, machine-like determination.
They reached the blown-out loading bay doors just as a second wave of Russian reinforcements pulled into the snowy yard.
Three black SUVs blocked their exit, and heavily armed men poured out, raising their assault rifles.
"Get back inside!" Victor shoved Clara and Silas behind a thick brick pillar just as the concrete was shredded by a hail of bullets.
"We are pinned down," Clara gasped, her chest heaving as she pulled Silas tight against the wall.
Victor checked the magazine of his rifle.
He had exactly four bullets left.
"I will draw their fire," Victor said, his voice terrifyingly calm.
"When they focus on me, you drag Silas to the tree line and run for the highway."
Clara grabbed his tactical vest, her eyes wide with absolute panic.
"No!"
"You will be torn to shreds, Victor!"
"I am the head of the Syndicate," Victor replied, pressing a fierce, bloody kiss to her forehead.
"My life is worth nothing if I cannot protect what is mine."
Before Clara could stop him, Victor stepped out from cover, raising his nearly empty weapon.
Suddenly, the deafening screech of heavy tires drowned out the gunfire.
A massive, armored transport truck smashed through the chain-link fence, violently broadsiding the Russian SUVs.
The impact sent the smaller vehicles spinning across the icy pavement in a shower of sparks and shattered glass.
The back doors of the transport truck flew open, revealing two dozen heavily armed Kaine Syndicate soldiers.
They laid down a devastating wall of suppressive fire, completely overwhelming the surprised Russian mercenaries.
A familiar figure jumped down from the driver's seat of the truck, holding a heavy submachine gun.
It was Marcus’s former lieutenant, a man named Dante, whom Victor had recently promoted.
"Sorry we are late to the party, Boss!" Dante yelled over the gunfire.
"The snow slowed us down."
Victor didn't waste time on gratitude.
He grabbed Silas, throwing him over his shoulder, and ran toward the armored transport.
Clara sprinted right behind him, keeping her head down as bullets whizzed past her ears.
They threw Silas into the back of the truck, and Clara immediately climbed in after him.
Victor turned around, his eyes scanning the chaotic battlefield for the one man he truly wanted to kill.
Through the thick smoke and falling snow, Victor saw him.
Alexei Volkov was standing near the edge of the river, watching his men get slaughtered.
The Russian boss locked eyes with Victor, offering a mocking, twisted salute before disappearing into the darkness of the tree line.
Victor gripped his rifle tightly, his knuckles turning white, but he knew he couldn't pursue him now.
He climbed into the back of the truck, slamming the heavy armored doors shut behind him.
"Get us out of here, Dante!" Victor roared.
The transport truck reversed violently, crushing the remains of the Russian vehicles before speeding away into the blizzard.
Inside the dark cabin, Clara was furiously working on Silas, packing his wounds with gauze and monitoring his weak pulse.
Victor sat across from her, leaning his head back against the cold metal wall.
He watched her work, his chest tight with an emotion he had never allowed himself to feel before she came into his life.
She was covered in blood, soot, and freezing snow, but to Victor, she had never looked more beautiful.
"You saved him, Clara," Victor whispered, his voice incredibly soft.
Clara looked up, wiping a streak of soot from her forehead with the back of her wrist.
"We saved him," Clara corrected gently.
"But Alexei is still alive."
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"I know," Victor replied, his eyes darkening with a promise of absolute violence.
"And tomorrow, I am going to end him."
