Page 104 of Blood & Snow

The Sokolovs invested heavily in this arsenal, believing it would give them the edge in our coming war.

They were wrong.

Ivan plants plastique charges on the support beams while Igor wires the ammunition crates.

The explosives will bring down half the building, ensuring nothing survives the blast.

I watch the work, feeling detached from what we're about to do, checking my watch as the seconds tick away.

Movement catches my eye—a shadow shifting behind an overturned table.

One of the guards is still breathing, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps.

Blood pools beneath his head, and his eyes track my movement as I approach.

"Please," he whispers in Russian, the word barely audible.

"I have children."

I study his face—young, maybe twenty-five, with pale skin and frightened eyes.

A wedding ring catches the overhead light, and I notice a wallet photo tucked into his vest pocket.

The image shows a woman holding two small children, their faces bright with innocence.

The Makarov feels heavy in my hand.

This man chose his allegiance when he joined the Sokolovs.

He knew the risks, understood the cost of opposing us.

His children will grow up fatherless because their father picked the losing side.

"Your boss should've thought of that," I tell him.

The pistol's report echoes through the warehouse.

The guard's head snaps back, and his eyes lose focus.

Blood spreads across the concrete, mixing with the dust and debristhat covers the floor.

His life is over quickly rather than suffering and smoke inhalation.

"Charges set," Ivan reports.

"We have three minutes to clear the building."

We descend the stairwell quickly, boots pounding against metal steps that groan under our weight as the digital timers count down toward zero.

The night air hits my face as we burst through the factory's entrance.

Our vehicles wait in the shadows beyond the perimeter fence, engines running and drivers ready to disappear into Moscow's labyrinthine streets.

I climb into the passenger seat of the lead car, and we accelerate away from the building before I've even gotten my door shut.

The explosion tears through the night at exactly 0412 hours.

The blast wave rattles windows three blocks away, and orange flames leap skyward as the factory's upper floors collapse in on themselves.