More gunfire from above. Someone on the opposite catwalk had Sebastian pinned. I watched as Sebastian rolled sideways, arrow already nocked. He came up in a crouch, drew, and released in one fluid motion. The arrow punched through the shooter's eye. The man's head snapped back. He tumbled over the railing, hitting the ground with a wet crunch that echoed through the warehouse.
Movement to my right. A man with a shotgun, coming around the crates. Too close for my pistol. I dropped low as he fired. Buckshot tore through the space where my head had been. I swept his legs. He went down hard. I was on him before he could recover, knee on his chest, knife to his throat. One quick slash. Blood sprayed hot across my hands.
“Viktor, Behind!”
Sebastian's warning came too late. Something slammed into my back. A boot. I went down, weapon skittering across concrete. A man twice my size loomed over me, crowbar raised.
Sebastian dropped from the catwalk.
No rope. No ladder. Just dropped fifteen feet, landed on the man's shoulders, used the momentum to drive him face-first into the ground. I heard vertebrae crack. The man went limp.
Sebastian rolled off, came up firing. His arrow caught another attacker in the chest. The man staggered back, clawing at the shaft, but Sebastian was already nocking another. Put it through his skull before he hit the ground.
I grabbed my weapon. Two more targets behind the trucks. They were coordinating. Professional. One laid down suppressing fire while the other moved to flank.
“Pincer movement!” I shouted.
“I see them!”
Sebastian ran three steps up the wall, pushed off, flipped backward over their covering fire. He landed behind a crate, already drawing. His first arrow caught the flanker in the throat. The man dropped, drowning in his own blood.
The other one panicked. Started spraying bullets wildly. Sebastian vaulted over his cover, closing the distance impossibly fast. The man swung his rifle like a club. Sebastian ducked under it, swept his legs, and put an arrow through his chest before he hit the ground.
Movement everywhere now. More men pouring in from the back. Four. Five. Where the hell had they been hiding?
“Too many!” Sebastian called out.
He was right. We were outnumbered. Outgunned. This was about to get very bad.
One of them threw something. Small. Metal. Grenade.
“Down!”
We both dove. The explosion was deafening. Shrapnel tore through crates and metal. Something hot grazed my leg. Didn't matter. Had to keep moving.
Sebastian was already up, moving like water through the chaos. A man came at him with a knife. Sebastian caught his wrist, twisted, broke it with an audible snap. Used the man's own momentum to slam him into a support beam. Grabbed the knife from his broken hand and opened his throat in one smooth motion.
Two more came at him together. Smart. Coordinating. One high, one low.
Sebastian dropped into a slide, went under the low attacker's swing. Came up behind them both, arrow already nocked. Put it through the first man's spine. He dropped. The second one turned, rifle raising.
I shot him. Three rounds. He went down.
Sebastian and I were back-to-back now. Circling. Covering each other. Moving like we'd been doing this for years instead of weeks.
A man charged me with a machete. I sidestepped, caught his arm, used his momentum to drive him into the wall. Heard his face crunch against concrete. He slid down, leaving a blood smear.
Behind me, I heard Sebastian's bow sing. Heard someone scream. Heard bodies hitting the ground.
“Last two!” he called out.
They'd taken cover behind the trucks. Smart. Using the vehicles as shields. We couldn't see them. Couldn't get a clean shot.
I grabbed a metal pipe from the ground. Threw it to the right of the trucks. It clattered against concrete. Both men turned toward the sound, weapons tracking.
Sebastian was already moving. He ran up a pile of crates like stairs, launched himself into the air, drew mid-flight. His arrow caught one through the temple. The man dropped.
I came around the left side. The last man turned, saw me too late. I put two rounds in his chest. He staggered back against the truck. I put a third through his forehead.
