Page 126 of The Sterling Acquisition

The figures on the ridgelines were getting closer, tightening the noose with professional patience. The Regulators moved in coordinated pairs, covering each other’s advances while the Rangers maintained higher positions. Whatever was about to happen, it would be over quickly—one way or another.

“Any brilliant last-minute tactical insights?” Orion asked, checking his safety one final time.

“Just one,” Dante said, positioning himself where he could cover the most likely approach routes. The bond between them hummed with a strange synchronicity, as if their bodies found a tactical rhythm that transcended conscious coordination. “When this starts, remember that corporate operatives are trained to take prisoners. They want us alive for interrogation and disciplinary review.”

“And that helps us how?”

“It means they’ll hesitate for just a moment before using lethal force. A moment we won’t.”

Orion felt his mouth curve into the kind of smile that had nothing to do with humor and everything to do with anticipation. “I like the way you think.”

“I thought you might.”

Above them, the corporate reception committee finished their positioning, and the valley fell into the kind of ominous quiet that preceded violence. Leo’s voice echoed one more time across the open ground, desperate and delusional.

“This is your last chance, Orion. Come home willingly, and we can work through this together. Make me come down there, and you won’t like how this ends.”

Orion raised his voice to carry across the valley, putting every ounce of contempt he possessed into the words:

“Go fuck yourself, Leo!”

Chapter forty-seven

The Showdown

Orion

Thefirstshotcrackedlike thunder.

Orion’s world narrowed to a knife-edge’s—the muzzle flash from Leo’s position, the spray of dirt where the bullet hit three feet to his left, the way Dante’s hand slammed into his shoulder, driving him toward the nearest boulder.

“Down!” Dante’s voice cut through the chaos, but Orion was already moving. Duck, weave, find cover, assess threats.

More gunfire erupted.Pop-pop-popfrom the SVI side, the deeper crack of Gensyn rifles answering from the opposite ridge. Orion pressed himself against the rock, breathing hard, his mind cataloging everything with vicious precision—the metallic tang of gun oil, the subtle changes in air pressure with each shot, the distinctive scents of fear and aggression from the corporate teams.

Fifteen shooters minimum. SVI has the high ground on the left, Gensyn controls theright slope.

Dante appeared beside him, rifle already in his hands, and checking the magazine. Blood streaked down his temple from where a flying rock caught him, but his expression was cold, calculating, deadly.

“Stay behind cover. Only shoot if they’re close enough to spit on.” Dante’s gray eyes locked onto his for one fierce second. “You do not play hero. You survive.”

Then he was gone, moving between points of cover with an unusual grace, already lining up his next shot.

Orion crouched behind the boulder, pistol gripped in both hands, trying to make sense of the battlefield. The corporate teams were fighting each other as much as hunting him and Dante—SVI and Gensyn trading shots across the valley while both tried to maneuver for clean lines on their actual targets, like they were trying to make sure only one company got the victory. He counted four Rangers down already, two Regulators motionless on the opposite slope. Still at least nine active shooters remaining.

Smart. Let the corporate drones kill each other first.

A figure in SVI tactical gear broke from cover fifty yards out, sprinting toward their position. Orion tracked him through the sights, waiting. Thirty yards. Twenty. Close enough to see the man’s face, the hungry gleam in his eyes as he spotted Orion crouched behind the rock.

Close enough to spit on.

Orion squeezed the trigger.

The recoil jolted through his wrists. The runner stumbled, red blooming across his chest, and went down hard. Orion stared at the body for exactly two seconds—long enough to confirm the kill, not long enough to think about it.

“Nice shot!” Dante’s voice carried from somewhere to his left, followed by the sharp crack of his rifle. “Two down on the Gensyn side!”

But more were coming. Orion could see them moving through the scrub brush, using the chaos to advance. He detected the acrid smell of gunpowder, the metallic tang of blood, and underneath it all—