The 1515 terrorist's final scream was like a boulder cast into the lake, ripples spreading outward at an incredible speed.
Major Petrovsky darted forward, swiftly crouching down, reaching out his fingers to quickly probe the carotid artery of the corpse—
No movement, only a dead silent chill.
This guy is truly cold now.
His gaze immediately fell on the crude yet deadly radio, its red signal light already extinguished, but it seemed as though the air still carried the silent shriek when it sent out the warning signal into the unknown distance.
"Bastard!"
An expletive in Russian squeezed through Petrovsky's teeth.
He suddenly lifted his head and scanned the surroundings, as if the mountains, boulders, and dried riverbeds, every shadow hiding countless eyes ready to pry.
He was assessing just how many wolves the alarm would draw with the scent.
Whether it was the patrol team nearby or the madmen from the 1515 Armed camp nearby.
