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We’ve been parked on the outskirts of the motel property for almost half an hour, a battalion of Zakharov soldiers stationed all around us. I’ve got two contingents of men waiting at the other two locations Archie had given me. This is the only one with any sign of life.
My gut tells me this is the place.
“It’s better than he deserves,” I growl.
I notice one of my lead scouts running towards us. “How many men?” I ask when he slows to a stop.
“It’s hard to say,pakhan,” the scout wheezes. “It’s old and rundown, but it’s built solidly. A concrete fortress. I spotted three men outside, but there could be dozens more on the inside.”
“Dozens?” Dima balks. He turns to me. “Do you think that’s likely? Maybe we should hang out for a bit longer, make sure—”
“Fuck that.” I pull out my gun. “We’re done waiting. Have the other men join us here. We go in guns blazing.”
“Well, say no more.” Licking his lips, Dima unholsters his own weapons and starts loading in fresh clips.
Mila is a little more reserved. Her eyes keep flitting toward Dima even as she prepares herself. “Do we launch a sneak attack?” she asks. “We can approach the building on foot. They won’t hear us coming until we’re right on top of them.”
I shrug. “It doesn’t matter. The Bellasios will be annihilated either way tonight. In any case, I want him to tremble with fear. We’ll drive up to the building with full force and mow the motherfucker down.”
A whoop rises up from the soldiers listening in on our conversation. We pile into the waiting caravan. Guns clack, tires groan, men puff and grunt as they jump into position. Everything roars to life, then we descend on Benedict’s rathole like a fucking biblical plague.
The roar of engines takes us all the way up to the crumbling motel. I’ve just jumped out of the Rambler when the first enemy gunshot pierces the air.
“Get down!” I yell.
The windows of the hotel have been pushed open just enough for me to see the nozzle of a gun. I cock both my weapons and start firing. My men follow suit and before long, we’ve pushed right inside, throwing the Bellasio men back.
Bellasio men scramble through the narrow passageways in utter chaos. When they poke their heads out at the wrong time, they get blown away into the afterlife.
“Keep moving in!” I roar. “They’ll be behind one of those doors.”
We pass through a dark hallway and emerge into the ruins of a ballroom on the other side. I hear someone scream behind me and I turn to see one of my men collapse on his back against the broken tile. From the opposite side, more Bellasio men rush out of the doors like insects being forced out of their holes.
“There’s more than we thought,” Mila mutters from my right side.
I nod grimly and reload. “Stay close.”
Of course, seeing as how she’s pathologically allergic to following orders, she immediately takes off, throwing herself into the fray with reckless abandon.
“Goddammit, Mila,” I snarl under her breath. Then I dive in after her.
My men and Bellasio’s have woven in together now. I lose sight of Dima and Mila in the chaos and, until I clock them, I can’t let myself look for Benedict.
I smell metal and blood. The air is thick with the cries of fury and pain. I use my fists just as much as I use my guns. And just as I’m about to shoot some fucker in the head, I spot Benedict in the far corner, cringing every time another gunshot sounds.
He’s there. Right. Fucking.There. After five years of reaching for him and missing, I almost can’t believe my eyes.
“Benedict!” I roar over the tumult.
He disappears from the doorway immediately without looking to see who yelled. I beeline toward him. I’m almost at the door when I hear a scream.
This one, I recognize above all the others.
“Mila!” I twist around and turn back into the fight.
It’s thinned out a little. There are far more dead bodies than fighting men, but I have to give it to him—Benedict has managed to give us a fight despite his limited resources.
Dima is struggling with two Bellasio soldiers to get to Mila. She’s on the ground, pressing her hands to a bullet wound in her stomach. Blood wells over her knuckles, thick and red.
