The remaining nine guards closed in like wolves that had caught the scent of blood. No more patience. No more careful patrols. They were collapsing on me in a tightening noose, and I could feel it—this wasn't about stealth anymore. This was survival in its most vicious form. My enhanced reflexes and the downloaded combat skills weren't theory now.
They were the only thing standing between me and becoming a shredded corpse on this concrete killing ground.
Through the thermal overlay, the compound became a chessboard of death. Two heat signatures pushing from the east, sliding behind a forklift. Three moving in tight formation from the west, rifles steady as they advanced from cover to cover along stacked shipping containers.
Two more flanking north through the vehicle depot, boots hammering steel grating with the confidence of men who thought numbers equaled inevitability. And above it all, high on the rooftop, one steady red dot lying prone—the sniper.
