"Camden, Dougal, flank left," Grant's voice crackled over their earpieces. "I'll draw their fire. Lokan, can you get into their heads and redirect?"
"Working on it," Lokan replied, though the distance and chaos made it difficult for him to do so. He needed to be closer.
"I have an idea," Carol said. "Cover me."
Before he could protest, she was moving, not away from danger but toward it. She sprinted along the riverbank, using trees for cover, drawing fire away from their position. The attackers, focused on what they saw as the prize, shifted their attention to track her.
Which was precisely what she'd planned.
With their focus redirected, Camden and Dougal moved like shadows through the trees, their immortal speed and strengthturning them into blurs of motion. The first scream came seconds later as Dougal reached the nearest gunman.
Lokan used the distraction to push forward, closing the distance to the main group of attackers. As he moved, he reached out with his mind, finding the chaotic thoughts of greedy men.
Five million rubles... American dollars better... the Pakhan wants them alive... especially the woman...
He found what seemed to be their leader, a rough-looking veteran whose thoughts were more organized than the rest. Lokan slipped into his mind like a knife between ribs.
Drop your weapon, he commanded.Tell your men to stand down.
The man's hands began to loosen on his rifle, his face going slack.
"Hold your position, soldier," a voice called out in Russian, and a figure emerged from the trees on the far bank—tall, well-dressed despite the wilderness setting, and with the demeanor of a man used to being obeyed.
"Let me guess," Lokan called out, buying time as he tried to penetrate the newcomer's mental shields. "You work for Dimitri Gorchenco."
The man smiled. "Colonel Volkov, formerly of the GRU. Now a freelance contractor with a very lucrative offer on the table. You've caused the Pakhan considerable losses, Mr. Lokan. He wants to discuss that with you. Personally."
"I'm sure he does," Lokan replied, noting that Grant had made it to cover on the far bank and was working his way toward Volkov's position. "But I'm afraid I have prior commitments."
"A shame." Volkov raised his hand, and more fighters emerged from concealment. Twenty, maybe twenty-five total. "We'll have to do this the hard way then."
What followed was a massacre, though not the one Volkov had planned.
Grant hit the first group like a hurricane. Bodies flew, bones cracked, and weapons were turned on their owners and their comrades.
Lokan was impressed. Even he had a hard time thralling under pressure, while the three Guardians were doing that in addition to physically fighting.
Camden and Dougal carved through the left flank with the same brutal efficiency. These might have been hard men, veterans of Russia's criminal underworld, but they were still only human. They stood no chance against immortals.
Meanwhile, Carol had circled back and was picking off stragglers with precise shots, cutting off their retreat routes.
Lokan focused on Volkov, battering against his mental shields with increasing force. The man had a strong mind and was well trained, but he was still human. Still breakable.
"You don't know who you're dealing with," Volkov gasped, blood running from his nose as Lokan's mental assault intensified. "Every criminal from here to Moscow is looking for you. Every corrupt cop, every soldier who needs extra money. You'll never make it out of Russia."
"I beg to differ." Lokan pushed harder.
Volkov's shields shattered like glass. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, his mind overwhelmed by the forced intrusion. Lokanrifled through his memories with no regard for the damage he caused.
There. The bounty notice was distributed through Gorchenco's network. Five million American dollars for Carol and Lokan, delivered alive to the Pakhan. Every criminal organization in the region had been alerted.
But there was more. Someone in Turner's network was feeding information to Gorchenco. Not a name, just a stupid code that would have made Lokan laugh under different circumstances.
Foxhound.
Someone was watching too many old action movies.
Lokan withdrew from Volkov's mind, leaving the man drooling and twitching on the ground. Around them, the ambush had turned into a rout. Bodies littered both riverbanks, and the few survivors were fleeing into the forest, their greed overwhelmed by terror.
