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Chapter Fourteen
Bastien
Under a bruised sky, our convoy rumbles forward, a serpent of steel and vengeance. Etienne and I share a look, our eyes reflecting the fire within us. The weight of history hangs between us, but we're bound by more than blood and loyalty.
"Remember the plan," he says, his voice steady as the rhythm of our hearts. I nod, my fingers tapping against the wheel like soldiers on parade.
"Semper Fi, brother," I reply, and his lips curl into a wry smile.
As Marcel's compound looms before us, the air thickens with tension and anticipation. Our training takes over, instincts forged in the crucible of war guiding our every move. We split off, Etienne leading the ground assault while I ascend to the heavens – a rooftop perch perfect for the reaper's touch.
Crouching, I assemble my sniper rifle with practiced ease, its pieces sliding together like lovers entwined. My hands know this dance well, the weapon an extension of my arm.
"Godspeed, Bastien," Etienne murmurs through the comm, and I sense his presence even from afar. The connection between us is unbreakable, two halves of a single coin.
"Same to you, Etienne," I whisper back, settling behind the scope, a window into destiny.
The world narrows, my focus razor-sharp as I scan the compound. Each breath slows, each beat of my heart a metronome ticking towards fate. Below, Etienne and his men advance, shadows creeping through the chaos.
"First target, west wing," I report, my finger caressing the trigger like a lover's touch. A sharp crack splits the air, the bullet singing its deadly song as it finds its mark. One of Marcel's goons crumples to the floor, never knowing what hit him.
"Good shot," Etienne praises, and the words are a balm, even amidst the bloodshed.
"Next target, east window," I warn as another of Marcel's men takes aim at Etienne's crew. My finger tightens, and the rifle bucks against my shoulder, its recoil a fierce embrace. The man drops, his weapon clattering to the ground.
"Keep them coming," Etienne growls, fury etched in every syllable.
And so, we dance our deadly ballet; Etienne, the storm on the ground, and I, the silent reaper above. Together, we carve a path through Marcel's ranks, determination driving us onwards, our bond unyielding.
"Almost there, brother," Etienne says, his voice strained but steady. "This ends today."
"Right beside you," I promise, my sights trained on the final enemy before us. And as the bullet finds its mark, I know that nothing can stand against us – not when we're united in purpose, bound together by more than just our shared past.
As the shadows stretch and fade, swallowed by the approaching night, I watch Etienne command our motley crew of Claude's men with an iron grip. They swarm around him like a pack of wolves, hungry for the kill, but held in check by the force of his presence. "Remember," he barks, "we end this tonight. No mercy."
I keep my rifle nestled against my shoulder like an extension of myself. The rooftop provides me a vantage point from which to witness the symphony of violence about to unfold. With each breath, I steady my aim and focus on the task at hand.
"Go!" Etienne roars, and the tide surges forward. Doors are kicked open, windows shattered as they breach Marcel's compound. Gunfire erupts, painting the night with crimson streaks of death. I track their progress, eyes flickering between Etienne and the enemies that threaten to overwhelm him.
"Two by the stairs, Etienne!" I call out, pressing the trigger as my sights lock onto one of Marcel's henchmen. The man falls, his weapon clattering down the steps.
