Chapter 45

45

Abe waded out of the water and up the muddy bank, weapon ready. Drizzle painted his face in cold pinpricks, but visibility had improved since they entered the river. Together with Fox, he stowed his air tanks beneath dense undergrowth and peeled off his dry suit to his tactical kit underneath.

“Switching to night vision.” The world transformed through his goggles—inky shadows resolving into sharp-edged shapes lit in ghostly green.

“On your six.” Fox bumped up against his back, and they moved as one across the sodden grounds, covering each other’s blind spots, their boots making no sound on the wet grass.

Up close, Korolov’s mansion was a grotesque marriage of old and new money. Three stories stretched skyward, flanked by marble columns the color of bone. Modern black window frames violated the building’s classical lines, reflecting the dismal night.

“Millions doesn’t buy taste,” Fox grumbled under his breath.

Almost at the house, they took cover behind a massive oak. Rough bark pressed against Abe’s back as he assessed their position. “The blueprints showed access points on both east and west wings. Ground floor doors.”

“Copy that.” Fox lifted his night vision goggles. Ahead of them, security lights flooded the landscaping, creating a gauntlet of exposed ground. “Getting mighty bright out there.”

“Agreed.” Abe removed his goggles and blinked, giving his vision time to adjust. “Too much open ground.” A row of ornamental bushes offered a natural corridor to the house. “Those shrubs give us cover.”

He led off, tracking through the bushes, their mop flower-heads dumping cold water and soaking their legs as they brushed past. The water chilled his skin, but the discomfort was irrelevant. All that mattered was each step took him closer to Freya.

Large double doors emerged from the gloom ahead. Abe dropped to one knee beneath a cascade of dripping foliage. “East entrance, acquired.”

He checked his wrist. A red blip. Finally. “Zak. I have a lock on Freya. Do you have a location?”

His earpiece crackled with Zak’s voice. “Security feed accessed. Visual confirmation. Third floor study. Approaching main gates now for planned distraction.”

“Acknowledged.” Abe turned to Fox. “Time to split up. I’ll work the east wing. You take the west.”

Fox drew a circle in the air. “We clear ground level from opposite approaches, rendezvous on the second before pushing to the third floor.” He bumped knuckles with Abe before taking off and blending into the night like a wraith.

Abe blew out a breath and hustled to the double doors. Using the specialized pick set from his vest, the lock surrendered in seconds. He slipped inside and pressed the door closed behind him. The stink of motor oil and leather assailed him as he hurried across the room.

The garage was a shrine to automotive excess. High-end machines crouched, sleeping in the darkness. Abe skirted a BMW, an Aston Martin and a modified Audi RS7, because apparently Korolov couldn’t leave well enough alone.

His breathing measured, he reached the door to the main house, where he stripped off his glove, pressing his palm against the cool surface. He held his breath, waited. No vibration . Nothing but silence waiting on the other side.

Time to move.

He turned the door handle and edged into a dark hallway.

Shouts erupted on his comms. Then the distinctive chitter of multiple automatic weapons.

Shit.

“Fox, status?”

“Jesus Christ.” Fox hissed. “At least six visible, moving in coordinated fire teams. This isn’t security. Looks like private military contractors.” More gunfire crackled through the feed. “I’m pinned down hard.”

A grunt of pain carried through the static. Zak . “I’m at the gates. Full tactical team moving on my position.”

Ice ran through Abe’s veins. All intel had shown private security. But a small army of elite operators? This wasn’t unexpected resistance. This was a trap. They’d been lured into a prepared kill zone.

Fuck.

The tracker on his wrist pulsed, but now the signal mocked him. If Korolov had this level of protection, if he’d been expecting them, was she even there?

The staircase at the corridor’s end beckoned. He needed to go up, to complete the mission, to find Freya, but ahead, a shadow shifted.

With a breath, he became still, pressing against the wall.

They know I’m coming.

Fox was trapped by professional operators. Zak too. The entire operation was unraveling.

Freya only had this one chance. If he failed her?—

He couldn’t think about that. Clean extraction required precision. And sacrifice.

Pain lanced through his temples as he grimaced, knowing what had to be done. He kept his voice to a whisper. “Fox, what’s your exact position relative to the target?”

“Northwest corner, second floor landing. They’ve got marksmen covering my approach.”

A sniper round cracked over the comms. Abe winced, rubbing his ear.

He glanced upward. Fox is closer than me.

“I’m going to draw fire.” He pushed off the wall. “When they shift focus, you get her out.”

“Abe, that’s suicide. These aren’t amateurs?—”

“The mission is Freya. Everything else is expendable. Their forces are efficient, but they can’t be everywhere at once. I’ll make them choose.”

“Abe—”

“No discussion. Be ready to move. Get Freya out.”

He retreated to the garage, flipping on lights as he went.

Make noise. Be obvious. Be the bigger threat.

He knew what he wanted. The Audi RS7. Heavily tweaked, oversized engine. Fucking brash.

He grabbed the keys off the row on the wall and gripped the door handle with cold fingers. The door window glass was thick with visible layering at the edges. He’d bet money Korolov had ensured all his cars were bullet proof.

Freya was upstairs, and every instinct in his body wanted to fight his way to her. But facing down professional operators waiting for them? Sometimes, the only way to complete the mission was to walk away from it.

Time to make some noise. Lots of it.

The Audi’s engine woke with a guttural snarl that echoed off the garage walls as he positioned his hands on the wheel. Straight ahead was the wooden garage door.

Too quiet.

He flipped his attention to the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window, beyond which the garage light spilled out onto the grass.

He revved the engine with a gentle press and hardened his grip on the leather wheel. The rational part of his brain cautioned that this was insanity. But rationality wasn’t getting his team out alive. Or bringing Freya home.

Their advantage was gone. The rest depended on him.

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” He secured his seatbelt before he changed his mind and stomped the accelerator.

The Audi’s horsepower erupted like a caged beast, rear tires fighting for grip on polished concrete as the car lunged forward.

The window rushed him.

Impact—

Glass exploded outward in a crystalline storm and the car burst through like a bullet. A banshee wail of alarms shrieked to life, ripping through the night air. The car hit the gravel with a thump that wrenched the breath from his lungs.

He yanked the handbrake, and the Audi pivoted on its axis, tires screeching protest. The spin ended with the car’s nose pointed where he needed it—toward the rear gate and away from his team.

His foot found the accelerator again. Hard . Broken glass cascaded from the hood as he hit a decorative brick border at speed, going airborne for one stomach-lurching moment before crashing down onto Korolov’s far-too-fucking-perfect lawn.

The Audi’s tires tore chunks free as he raced across the pristine grass, fishtailing wildly, each correction requiring all of his strength to maintain control. Floodlights powered on, and suddenly it was daylight, fucking everywhere. Movement surrounded him. Armed figures racing toward his position.

Come on, you bastards. Eyes on me.

Shouts competed with the alarms as the men split into teams, their focus shifting from the house to the madman in the stolen car.

Perfect.

He yanked the wheel hard left, then right, creating a chaotic path across the grounds that forced his pursuers to keep adjusting their firing positions.

The Audi responded like it was hard-wired to his nervous system, drifting in wild arcs between Korolov’s trees. Bark exploded behind him as rounds found wood instead of flesh. The car’s rear end swung wide, taking out a marble fountain in a spectacular crash of water and stone, creating spray that briefly shielded him from the nearest shooters.

He kept going, hands clamped to the wheel. Muzzle flashes tracked him as he carved channels of black soil through the green grass.

“Fox. Status?”

“Moving up the northwest staircase. Whatever you’re fucking doing, they’re peeling off like flies to shit.”

Abe wrenched the wheel again, power-sliding the Audi in a wide arc. The air filled with the snap-hiss of rounds. Grass and dirt geysered around the car as bullets hit dirt and metal. The Audi’s windows were a maze of spider-web fractures, marking the borrowed seconds of his remaining time.

But none of that mattered.

In the house, Fox moved unopposed toward Freya.

Everything else—the bullets, the rising chance he wouldn’t survive the next few minutes—was just noise.

He’d made his choice.

Now he’d make it count.