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.