Men in black move in formation, waving to one another with their assault rifles raised. Four that I can see right now, but I'm sure there's more.
These must be Volkov's mercenaries here to collect the bounty.
I duck back down and lean against the wall.
Fuck, they found us.
I take a few deep breaths and stare at the bathroom door. She's in there, and no one walking this earth is going to take her again.
She's mine and mine alone.
I turn and bring my head back up. I only see two men now, but I track their movements, waiting for the right moment.
One of them glances toward the window.
Guess it's now.
I raise my gun and fire through the glass. It spiderwebs and shatters outward. The man drops into the snow, a red mist hanging in the air where his head used to be.
I shift my aim and fire again, two shots directly at another's chest. The second man falls and the snow around him instantly turns red.
Then the return fire comes.
Bullets fly through the bedroom wall like it's made of paper. Wood splinters explode around me, peppering my face and my arms. I throw myself to the floor and roll, scrambling toward the hallway as the wall and what's left of the window glass disintegrates behind me.
I need to see about Victor.
I crawl on my elbows and knees, keeping low, my gun held tight. The rugs burn my skin and my ears ring from the gunfire, muffling everything.
Once I get into the hallway, I stand up and flatten myself against the wall and make my way forward.
I risk a glance around the corner and see that the front windows are gone. Glass covers everything. It's on the couch, the floor, and the coffee table. Cold air rushes in, and normally I'd be cold in just my underwear, but my adrenaline doesn't let me register it.
Turning, I see Victor ducking behind the overturned couch, his suit jacket torn, his hair disheveled. He ejects a spent magazine and slaps in a new one with practiced efficiency.
He sees me and smiles. "I heard they were coming, so I came back. Nice of them to wait for me to get inside."
I crawl over to him, glass crunching under my feet, creating small cuts. "How many?"
"Didn't get a good look before they threw a fucking bomb at the door."
"That's what that was?"
He nods and peers out over the couch.
"How many in the back?" he asks.
"I counted four. Killed two. So at least two left out there. Plus however many are in front."
Victor nods. "I bet they didn't expect to get killed by a half-naked Romanian."
"Yeah, well..."
As if on cue, bullets come through where the front door was, shredding what's left of the hanging door pieces.
"Get down!" Victor says.
We duck as someone throws in a smoke bomb, and suddenly it's like we're in the middle of a fucking cloud.