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Emily, still gripping my hand tightly, looks up at me. “Alessandro, you can’t let Orlov get away with this. You have to stop him, once and for all.”
Her words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of their implication. I’m torn – my instinct is to whisk her away to safety.
“Make the right move,” she says. “We run, and he’s still out there. Make the move he doesn’t expect. Take the fight to him.”
I look into her eyes, seeing the determination mixed with fear. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, then release her hand, pointing to the left. “Run straight to the car. Get in and lock the doors. It’s bulletproof. Don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you as soon as I can.”
She nods, and with one last look, she turns and sprints away, her figure quickly disappearing around the corner.
My heart aches to follow her, to ensure her safety with my own eyes, but I know what I must do.
Turning back to the chaos inside the boutique, I steel myself. My men are holding their ground, but it’s time to end this.
“Move in! Take down Orlov!” I command, leading the charge back into the heart of the battle.
As I step back into the fray, my mind is clear, focused on the task at hand. Orlov’s men are falling, but the leader himself is nowhere to be seen.
The intensity of the fight escalates, each moment critical as I search for the man who has brought this terror upon us.
“They’re at the back,” Marco yells to me as the last Russian out front falls to the ground. “Trying to flank us.”
“Move,” I shout to my men. We swarm out the back of the store. The back alley is narrow, lined with dumpsters. They could be hiding anywhere.
Emily is nowhere to be seen. She must have made it to the car by now. I’m glad. Whatever happens, she’s safe.
Orlov’s remaining men leap out at once, immediately engaging us in a fierce shootout.
The sound of gunfire echoes off the walls, creating a cacophony of chaos and danger.
I quickly duck behind a rusted dumpster, its metal body offering scant but necessary cover. Peering around its edge, I return fire, the sharp report of my weapon adding to the symphony of the gun battle.
I spot Marco taking cover behind a stack of wooden pallets to my right. He’s focused, his experienced eyes scanning for targets.
I catch his attention with a quick hand signal, directing him to flank the enemy on the left where two of Orlov’s men are hunkered down behind a derelict car, their shots whizzing dangerously close.
Rico, always quick on his feet, dashes to a narrow recess by a fire escape ladder.
From there, he has a clear shot at an enemy gunman perched precariously on a fire escape, providing cover fire for his comrades.
Rico steadies his aim and with a precise burst, takes out the threat, causing a brief lull in the incoming fire.
I use this moment to advance, moving swiftly but cautiously.
The alley is littered with debris, providing both obstacles and cover.
As I move, I spot two more of Orlov’s men, one tucked behind an overflowing dumpster and the other crouched near a graffiti-laden doorway. He’s tossing something toward my car. What is that?
I see the dark object rolling under the car – a grenade. Time seems to slow as I process the imminent threat.
In a split second, I make a decision.
“Get down!” I shout, warning my team as I sprint toward the car. Too late. The grenade explodes with a deafening roar, sending a shockwave through the alley. The car, caught in the blast, is engulfed in flames.
The explosion has turned the tide in our favor but I don’t care. The remaining enemies, disoriented and caught off guard, are quickly neutralized by Marco and Rico.
I’m still staring at the remains of the car.
The flames die away and I notice the windows are still intact. I pray the extra armor on the car did its job.
