The sound of boots crunching on shattered glass echoed through the empty street as Grimm and Volkova sprinted through the ruins of the industrial complex. The wind had picked up again, carrying with it the faintest smell of burning fuel and oil. Somewhere in the distance, the whine of a drone hummed in the air, its sensors scanning for movement. Every second counted.
"Do you trust her?" Grimm asked, his breath coming in sharp gasps as they moved. The question hung in the air between them, a quiet, dangerous thing. He hadn't seen Volkova in years, and the last time they'd crossed paths, it hadn't exactly been on friendly terms.
She glanced at him briefly, her face impassive as ever. "Trust no one, Reaper. Especially not me."
"Good," Grimm muttered under his breath. "I don't trust you."
She smiled faintly, the corners of her lips curling just enough to show a flash of teeth. "No one ever does."
They took a sharp turn, ducking into the skeletal remains of a warehouse. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of rust and decay. The once-thriving complex was now nothing more than a graveyard of metal and concrete, and it was the perfect place for an ambush.
Grimm paused, crouching low and scanning the surroundings. His senses were heightened, alert for any sign of movement. Volkova, to his surprise, didn't immediately take cover. Instead, she stood in the middle of the open, her sniper rifle slung over her shoulder as if she were daring someone to take a shot.
"You're asking for trouble," Grimm warned, his eyes never leaving the shadows.
"I don't wait for trouble to find me," Volkova replied coolly. "I make my own."
Grimm snorted softly. "We'll see how well that works for you."
Suddenly, a crackle of static filled the air. Grimm's hand instinctively went to the comm device at his belt, but before he could say anything, the voice on the other end cut through.
"Reaper-1. We have visual. You're not alone."
The message was terse, the voice unrecognizable, but Grimm didn't need to ask who it was. Razor was closing in.
Grimm straightened, his mind racing. There was no way they could outrun Kessler's men—not with the drones in the sky and the enforcers closing in from every angle. They'd be surrounded soon.
"Time to move," Grimm said, his voice low and steady. "We can't stay here."
Volkova nodded. She knew as well as he did that staying in one place would be their death sentence. But where the hell could they go?
A low rumble vibrated through the ground, and the distinct whir of a heavy engine reached their ears. Grimm's eyes narrowed.
"That's not good," he muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for the rifle slung across his chest.
"We'll have to take our chances," Volkova said, already moving toward the nearest exit. "Keep your head down."
Grimm followed her, his movements smooth and calculated. They had to think fast. Razor was no fool, and neither was Kessler. They wouldn't just send a few men. They'd send everything.
As they reached the door, the unmistakable sound of an armored vehicle's engine roared to life just outside the warehouse. Grimm's heart skipped a beat.
"They've got a gunship," Grimm said, his voice tight. "We won't make it five hundred yards before they've got us pinned down."
Volkova glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "Then we don't make five hundred yards."
Grimm knew she was right. If they tried to run, they'd be sitting ducks. He needed to think of something. Fast.
"Back up," Grimm ordered, his mind whirring. "We'll lead them into the wreckage. Create a kill zone."
Volkova didn't hesitate. "How long do we have?"
"Not long." Grimm took a deep breath, his fingers tracing the edges of his rifle's scope. "If we do this right, it'll be a one-way ticket."
The two of them sprinted back through the shattered remnants of the complex, taking cover behind the twisted metal and wrecked machinery. They needed to stay low, avoid detection at all costs. The sound of the gunship's engine grew louder, but still, no enemies had revealed themselves. That could mean one of two things—they were trying to flank them, or they were baiting them into a trap.
Grimm didn't plan on finding out which.
He checked his rifle one last time, ensuring the ammo count was good. "Valkyrie, get your scope on the eastern approach," Grimm ordered. "I'll take the west."
Volkova nodded, crouching low and setting her sniper rifle up on a nearby metal beam. She had the advantage of range. If they were going to survive this, her accuracy would be their salvation.
Grimm moved to the opposite side of the wreckage, finding a spot that offered a decent line of sight but still kept him well-hidden. He could hear the footsteps now—steady, methodical, but deliberately slow. The enemy was moving in.
He exhaled slowly, his pulse steadying. His instincts took over, his training kicking in. He'd been in worse situations before, with fewer resources. But this? This felt different.
The first soldier appeared from the shadows, his silhouette outlined against the growing light. Grimm's breath caught. The enemy didn't know they were waiting.
"Now," Grimm whispered.
The air crackled with the sound of gunfire as Volkova's sniper rifle rang out, the shot clean and precise. The soldier crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit the dirt.
But that was only the beginning. The enemy had heard the shot. They were closing in faster now.
Grimm's finger hovered over the trigger.
Let them come.