Chapter 8 - Blood in the Fortress
The drive downtown took twenty minutes.
When Gunther’s strike team breached the Russian nightclub, they found it completely empty.
There were no guards, no lieutenants, and no Volkov.
Gunther stared at the empty VIP lounge, a sickening realization hitting him like a freight train.
He pulled his encrypted radio from his belt.
"Command, report status," Gunther barked.
Static hissed through the speaker.
"Command, respond immediately!" he roared.
Nothing but dead air answered him.
"It is a trap," Gunther yelled to Victor.
"They hit the house!"
"Get us back there right now!"
The black SUVs flew through the city streets at over a hundred miles an hour, ignoring every traffic law.
Gunther gripped his weapon, his knuckles entirely white.
If Volkov had touched a single hair on Kayla’s head, death would be too merciful for him.
They crashed through the iron gates of the estate, finding the bodies of their own guards scattered across the lawn.
Gunther did not wait for the cars to stop.
He kicked his door open and sprinted up the front steps, firing his weapon into the shadows.
He breached the front doors and found the foyer turned into a war zone.
Russian mercenaries were looting the first floor.
Gunther moved like a demon, dropping three men before they even realized he was in the room.
Victor and the strike team flooded in behind him, engaging in a brutal, close-quarters firefight.
Gunther ignored the chaos and sprinted for the grand staircase.
He took a bullet grazing his left shoulder, but he did not slow down.
He reached the second floor and kicked open the ruined door of the master suite.
The room was completely trashed.
The bed was overturned, and the closet doors were ripped off their hinges.
"Kayla!" Gunther screamed, his voice cracking with pure terror.
"Kayla, where are you!"
For a terrifying second, there was no answer.
Then, a soft scratching sound came from the back of the closet.
The wooden panel shifted, and Kayla tumbled out of the ventilation shaft, covered in dust and trembling violently.
Gunther dropped his gun and fell to his knees, catching her in his arms.
He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin to prove she was real.
"You are bleeding," Kayla cried, seeing the crimson stain spreading across his shoulder.
"It does not matter," Gunther gasped, kissing her face repeatedly.
"You are alive."
"That is all that matters."
The gunfire downstairs finally ceased, leaving an eerie silence in the ruined house.
Victor walked slowly up the stairs, reloading his weapon.
"House is clear, boss," Victor reported grimly.
"Volkov was not here."
"He sent his men to do the dirty work."
Gunther stood up, pulling Kayla behind his uninjured side.
The relief in his eyes vanished, replaced by an apocalyptic fury.
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"Find out where Alexei sleeps," Gunther ordered softly.
"I am going to end this tonight."
