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Sevastyan directed Shturm toward the one knoll that would provide the lieutenant, those directing the battle from the distance and their sniper a good view of the entire front of Mitya’s property as well as the roof of the house and most of the garage. He had always known this was where he would have to end any real concentrated battle to kill his cousin.
Shturm scented the enemy long before he reached them. He heard them talking in low voices, worried that they’d lost sight of the big male. They argued for a few minutes over which other leopard was running second to Sevastyan’s mean son-of-a-bitch male. One voice insisted it was the strange dark coat over white. He was never far from Shturm.
“Where is he, Oliver?” The voice was harsh. Guttural. Angry. Recognizable. “You were supposed to have eyes on him at all times.”
Rolan. It was the man Sevastyan had thought was his father until he was a teen. He was the man who had murdered his mother and had tormented him, making his life hell in spite of all the things Sevastyan had done to help him against Lazar. His heart accelerated. Shturm pulled his lips back in a grimace, showing his teeth, lifting his face to the air, scenting Rolan along with four other men. The kid, Conrad, was one of them. Shturm never forgot a scent.
Oliver laughed, his amusement genuine. “This Sevastyan is clearly a bogeyman. We should all be so afraid of him. Why is it I’ve never heard of him? I’ve been in this business a long time and I know all the names of the ones you want to stay clear of. Sevastyan is not on that list.”
Oliver had to be the mercenary, the supplier. He was Conrad’s choice to supply the leopard teams.
“You haven’t noticed we’ve lost a lot of men?” Conrad asked quietly. “And you must know the name Amurov.”
“We expected to lose men,” Oliver snapped. “And in Russia, yes, Amurov is respected. Rolan is Amurov. These are the men who ran like cowards from them.”
Conrad sighed. “You aren’t paying attention. We’ve got one sniper left. They’ve annihilated more than half our shifters. I’d say even more than that. We can’t see around to the back of the house and no one has called in a report. I say we pull back. Call them back, fade away, regroup and come up with a different plan.”
“No,” Rolan protested, his voice lashing with his hatred. “I want them dead. We’re here. I’ve got the plans to his house. Mitya thinks he’s safe because he has Sevastyan guarding him. I want them all dead. Their mates, their children, all of them. Every last one of them. Wipe them out.” He spat on the ground to emphasize his declaration.
“Fuck yeah,” Oliver agreed.
“Rolan,” Conrad reiterated quietly. “I think you should get to the truck and we should leave now. Oliver can run his teams from here. He’s quite capable.”
Shturm, wait, Sevastyan cautioned when his leopard pressed forward on his belly, fury making the animal shake.
Sevastyan couldn’t imagine ever having his primary objective, the one he guarded, sitting on a knoll where he could be attacked by leopards who could sneak into a house and drag out a victim under the noses of those inside without them knowing. What kind of warning system would Conrad have? What kind of defense? He had to have set up something to protect Rolan.
Oliver believed he was attacking shifters who had been out of the field for so long they would be weak. Once he pushed past their outer guards, the man believed he could easily sweep in and kill everyone in the house. Conrad was already seeing the handwriting on the wall.
Sevastyan was aware there was still one more sniper hidden, waiting for his chance at killing Shturm, believing him to be fighting the leopards in the front to keep them from entering the house. That sniper had to be found and disposed of.
Tell the others to find anything Conrad planted to alert him to a leopard’s presence. He’s hidden something here. There’s danger, Shturm. Let them know. Be very cautious.
“I can handle it here by myself,” Oliver taunted. “You go ahead and run. I’ll catch up with you and bring you your boy’s head on a platter.” He snickered, a dismissing, arrogant sound that would never have bothered Sevastyan, but was certain to get to Rolan.
“I don’t run,” Rolan snapped predictably, irritated all over again.
“No,” Conrad said. “You never have, Rolan. But you’re not needed here. It’s foolish to stay and be in the way while Oliver is running his men, carrying out the assault, when you could be arranging transport as well as payment for everyone.”
Shturm and Istrebitel used the freeze-frame stalk of their kind to move closer to the knoll, straining to uncover any devices Conrad might have planted to give him advance warning should intruders creep up on them. Various male leopards had scent-marked the entire area around the knoll in an effort to drown out any other smells. As tactics went, it was a good one, one that Sevastyan had used more than once as a teenager to confuse Lazar’s leopards when they were hunting for their stolen goods. Conrad had stolen that technique from him.
The leopards stayed very low, lost among the brush, the sea of spots camouflaging them, even Istrebitel with his strange coloring. They blended into the grasses and the dark and light as the clouds moved overhead with the slight wind. They used every sense to unravel the chemical patterns left behind on the ground.
It was Bahadur, Kyanite’s male, who first sniffed out the strange odor buried beneath the pungent stench of a virile leopard marking territory. Once found, the leopards could easily identify the bomb buried shallowly just beneath the surface. If one of the heavy males stepped on the plate, activating the bomb, once he stepped off the bomb would go off and the animal would be dead, serving to alert Rolan and his team that they weren’t alone.
Sevastyan had no doubt that if those bombs hadn’t been found and Conrad and the others retreated, they would have left the bombs behind for members of his security force to step on at a later date. That didn’t endear any of them to him. He instructed Shturm to make a wide circle around the knoll in order to find any others hidden from view. They knew there was a sniper. He had to be located and disposed of. There was no way Conrad didn’t have someone watching their backtrail. And they had a driver. Maybe more than one.
The sniper was right where Sevastyan expected him to be, lying flat on the highest boulder on the knoll, stretched out, his spotter beside him, looking toward the house with a pair of night-vision goggles.
“You see him, Vagel?” the sniper asked, his eye to the scope. “Conrad’s getting antsy.”
“I lost him a few minutes ago. I’m with Conrad. We’ve got too many down and if anyone took that big monster out, I can’t find his body.”
Vikenti and Zinoviy stepped carefully over the hidden bombs and began to climb up the side of the boulder, using claws to drag their bodies up to the top. Had the two men lying in wait bothered to examine any of the sides of the rock they’d climbed, other than the easy route up, they would have found numerous claw marks scored into the rock where the leopards had practiced.
The two cats lifted their heads above the top to spot their prey, eyes focused, staring as they slowly pulled their bodies fully onto the boulder. There could be no mistake. They had to be on the two men simultaneously and deliver suffocating bites to the throat, killing them before either man could make a sound and alert the three men on the knoll.
It wasn’t the first time the two brothers had let their leopards loose on enemies when necessary, and they had perfected the art of their concurrent attack. Once on the rock, they separated, coming at their intended targets from different angles. Vikenti kept his focused gaze on the sniper. He had to wait until the man no longer had his finger on the trigger. There could be no mistake. Once the leopard attacked, even in his death throes, the sniper couldn’t accidently pull the trigger and warn the other leopards that they were anywhere close.
Both leopards crept closer until they were in striking range. They waited, crouched. Ready to charge. Never taking their gaze from their victims. The sniper suddenly pulled his head up to wipe his forehead on h
is arm, his finger coming away from the trigger. Both leopards charged simultaneously, were on the men, delivering the killing bite before either man knew they were even there. The biggest struggle was to force the leopards to back silently away from their victims. That was always the most difficult moment after a kill.
Sevastyan had the utmost faith in both Vikenti and Zinoviy. He knew they would do their jobs. He had only to do his. Holding back Shturm was no easy feat when he smelled the male leopards marking territory, especially with his female in her heat. She was in her first life cycle and any one of the leopards might mate with her, forcing her choice. Shturm was fully aware of that and was not about to allow any other male near her. He wanted to challenge all the males. He wanted them dead.
Shturm remembered Rolan and his cruelty. Rolan’s leopard had ripped into Shturm and Sevastyan when they had been very young, long before Shturm, as a kitten, had learned how to fight back or how to protect Sevastyan. He hated Rolan and his leopard. He remembered Conrad and the way Sevastyan had helped him. That Conrad was aiding Rolan in trying to kill Sevastyan was a betrayal, and Shturm believed he deserved death. Shturm was eager to see that both of them died in a very harsh manner.
“Rolan.” Conrad used a cautionary voice. “Oliver has this under control. By the time he returns you could have the transport arranged and they could be gone so there are no ties to you. He’s been instructed to make it look as if the families from Houston attacked and killed them. You can’t be in the country and neither can any of Oliver’s men.”
“We didn’t get Fyodor or Timur,” Rolan reminded, his voice almost whiny.
“That doesn’t matter. They won’t be expecting an attack when we come after them. They’ll buy the fact that the Houston families wanted Mitya and Sevastyan dead. There seemed to be bad blood between them. There were implications in the news about it.” Conrad was patient. “We’ll get them.”
“Fine. Let’s go.” Rolan capitulated all at once, staring at the downed leopards in the front of the house.
“Oliver, get your men back to the cargo ship as soon as you’re done. Have them bring any bodies with them,” Conrad ordered, proving who was really in charge. “No one can be left behind or they might be traced to you.”
“I know what I’m doing.” Oliver wasn’t paying much attention. His gaze was fixed on the battle. Only minutes had gone by, but things weren’t adding up. His men hadn’t come around from the other sides to pour into the front as they’d been instructed. No one had called in to say they’d breached the back. He could see bodies lying in the yard. Too many bodies and most looked like his men. He still hadn’t spotted the big leopard they were supposed to kill.
Conrad waited for Rolan to strip and roll his clothes, put them in his bag around his neck and shift. Rolan’s leopard, Diktator, had a thick, darker Amur gray undercoat with darker rosettes scattered in wide patterns all over his lengthy body. He wasn’t short and compact, rather long and lithe. Rolan had given his leopard the name when he was very young because the kitten had been so much bigger. He’d been almost twice Rolan’s length when he was a toddler. He’d referred to him as big brother. He’d never made the mistake of calling his leopard big brother in front of Lazar, because Lazar would have had his leopard harass and hurt Diktator.
Conrad’s leopard was younger, definitely in his prime, a big male with a long, thick, ivory-and-gray undercoat and distinct black rosettes down his spine and then falling over his body, tail, face and ears in a beautiful pattern. He was a powerful male and knew it. He fell back to protect the older male as Diktator set out for the road on the far side of the meadow.
Once Rolan made up his mind to leave, he set a fast pace, moving around the bombs and heading straight for the trucks and the transports that had carried the men to the property. They’d come in the back way, over the dirt road leading to Mitya’s property, not wanting to be seen. The teams had then dispersed to their assigned locations before closing in on the house.
The moment Rolan and Conrad were away from the knoll, Sevastyan and Zakhar fell in behind them. Kyanite watched them go and then he instructed his leopard, Bahadur, whose name meant warrior, to step around the bomb and climb up the knoll to stalk Oliver. His leopard, although big and very powerful, was also extremely stealthy, able to be just as silent as any of the other smaller leopards he had trained or worked with.
Bahadur crawled on his belly up the knoll, careful to keep from disturbing any loose dirt that would roll down the hill and be heard by Oliver. He kept downwind. Oliver, a shifter, would be using all senses. At this point, there was no doubt he had to be aware the battle hadn’t gone as planned. Kyanite could clearly hear him calling softly into his radio, demanding each of his units call in to him with a report. His voice was tense, no longer confident or arrogant. No one answered him.
Bahadur had him in sight now. Crouched only thirty feet away, in the higher grasses, he watched as Oliver threw the radio down and stripped, turning to face the same way Rolan and Conrad had gone. As he shifted, Bahadur charged, hitting him in the side with such force it drove the contorting half human, half leopard off the knoll onto the ground below. Bahadur leapt after him, landing on the creature as he desperately tried to finish shifting with broken bones.
Oliver’s leopard swiped at Bahadur’s throat, but Kyanite’s leopard was far too experienced and there was no target for the downed creature to get to. He ripped open the belly of the half human, half leopard and then delivered the kill bite to the exposed throat as the creature tried to roll. Bahadur stayed several moments, making certain Oliver was dead, and then, taking direction from his human companion, turned to follow Sevastyan and Zakhar. Vikenti’s and Zinoviy’s leopards joined him.
Sevastyan and Zakhar split up. They knew the terrain much better than Conrad and Rolan, who had studied it only from a map. They circled around and got ahead of their enemies, placing themselves well between them and the road where their transports were, where drivers might see or hear if they called out for help.
Shturm targeted Conrad’s leopard. To him, the animal was the biggest threat. Rolan was past his prime and appeared ill. If Istrebitel didn’t get him, then he would follow up. Both leopards knew the others would be coming to help kill the drivers of the transports. If nothing else, they could cut Rolan off from the others and take him down at their leisure. Conrad was the most important.
Shturm watched Rolan go past, the leopard sprinting for the trucks, wasting energy, not even considering that he might be stalked. Conrad’s leopard wasn’t that far behind. Shturm charged him straight on, full speed, hatred driving him every step of the way. Smerch, Conrad’s leopard, had no choice but to meet the charge head-on. He reared up at the last minute in a kind of desperation. The leopards came together, slashing with claws and teeth at faces, bellies and genitals.
Shturm’s claw ripped a chunk of fur and flesh from Smerch’s face, nearly taking his right eye. The other leopard just managed to turn his head in time. They crashed to the ground together in a tangle of claws and teeth, Shturm, taking full advantage of his powerful jaws, clamping on the other cat’s precious jewels and ripping while digging at his belly with claws as they rolled over and over in the grass.
Desperate, Smerch tried to break away, to get any advantage at all, clawing for purchase on the ground so he could get to his feet, but Shturm kept tearing at him, slicing at him relentlessly, mercilessly, clamping down on his back paw and crunching, dragging the leopard back to him when Smerch would have crawled a distance away.
Conrad looked up through Smerch’s eyes to see Sevastyan looking down at him through Shturm’s eyes. He made one last effort to save his leopard, a sneak attack, coming at the big brute from under his belly to the throat, but Shturm countered the move easily and bit down hard on his throat, holding, suffocating him, waiting until the life was gone out of his rival.
It was much more difficult to get Shturm to back off. He kept leaving the carcass but then returning, slapping leave
s and debris at it and roaring a challenge to any other male who dared stay in the territory near his female. Finally Sevastyan was able to get him to run in the direction he needed him to go.
The still night air carried the sound of their growls a great distance, just as the sound of the battle around Mitya’s house could be heard. If those men driving the transport trucks heard, they must not have thought much about it because no one came to Conrad’s aid, not even Rolan.
Diktator, Rolan’s leopard, skidded to a halt and swung around at the sound of the terrible sawing growls and challenging roars, so distinctive of leopards fighting. He paused for a moment and then turned and raced toward the safety of the trucks. He was sprinting hard, his legs shaky, not used to running anymore, when something hit him from the side. A bright hot pain spread through his body and he knew his lung burst.
His legs went out from under him and he tumbled, rolling over and over, coughing as blood filled his throat and nostrils. He tried to stand, but then went down, his sides heaving. He watched as the leopard approached, not even coming at him fast, as if he didn’t even count. As if he wasn’t a vor, a leader of the bratya, his lair one of the most feared.
Diktator snarled at him, showed his yellow, stained teeth, but didn’t move, sides heaving as he tried to gather his strength. The leopard just watched him with malevolent eyes. The leopard had a strange, distinctive coat. Pure white underneath with a scarred, dark coat on top. Where had he seen him before? He should know him. He had seen him, a long time ago in Russia, but Rolan’s memory was going.