Chapter 6 - The Siege on the Ice
"They trailed our snowcats through the mountain pass," Marcus shouted over the deafening roar of automatic rifle fire hitting the timber walls of the boathouse. "We're completely pinned down! The ice behind us isn't thick enough for heavy vehicles!"
"We don't need vehicles," Alfred said smoothly, his eyes calculating the terrain with deadly speed. "Marcus, take Maya, Bruno, and the ledgers through the rear drainage hatch onto the frozen shoreline. Head for the pine ridge."
"What about you, Boss?" Marcus asked, horror in his eyes.
"I’m going to buy you five minutes," Alfred replied, pulling two high-capacity assault rifles from his tactical rig.
"Alfred, no!" Maya cried out, tears streaming down her face as Marcus lifted her into his arms.
Alfred looked back at her, giving her a rare, breathtakingly warm smile. "Remember the ring, Maya. I keep my promises."
With a roar of pure defiance, Alfred kicked open the front doors of the boathouse, stepping out into the blinding snowstorm alone.
He opened fire with devastating precision. His shots tore through the front line of Valetti’s mercenaries, dropping four men before they could take cover behind their vehicles.
"Kill him! Kill him now!" Julian Valetti screamed from the safety of his armored command vehicle.
Fifty weapons opened fire at once. Bullets chewed through the snowbanks and wooden piers around Alfred. He moved with incredible tactical skill, utilizing granite boulders and frozen timber stacks for cover, dropping enemy after enemy in the blinding whiteout.
Meanwhile, behind the ridge, Marcus sprinted through the deep snow with Maya on his back and the iron box in his arm. But two Valetti scouts had spotted their retreat, flanking them from the eastern tree line.
"There they are!" a scout yelled, raising his rifle toward Marcus.
Before the shooter could pull the trigger, a dark shape erupted from the snowdrifts.
Bruno leaped through the air, tackling the scout into a deep snowbank, his teeth sinking deep into the man's tactical vest. The second scout swung his weapon toward the dog, but Marcus fired three quick rounds from his sidearm, neutralizing the threat instantly.
"Good boy, Bruno! Keep moving!" Marcus yelled.
Back at the boathouse, Alfred’s primary rifle clicked empty. A bullet grazing his left shoulder spun him around, dropping him to one knee in the crimson-stained snow.
Julian Valetti stepped out of his armored carrier, holding a gold-plated assault rifle, a cruel grin spreading across his face as he walked toward the wounded Christa boss.
"End of the line, Christa," Valetti sneered, pointing the barrel directly at Alfred's chest. "You died for an accountant's brat."
Alfred looked up from the snow, his eyes cold, dark, and entirely unbothered by the gun pointed at his heart.
"Look down, Julian," Alfred whispered.
Valetti blinked, looking down at his feet.
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Alfred had lured Valetti’s heavy command squad directly onto the thinnest section of the frozen lake—the thermal runoff point from the boathouse generators. Attached to the ice beneath Valetti’s boots was a thermal demolition charge Alfred had primed thirty seconds ago.
BOOM!
