For a fleeting moment, it felt like victory was within our grasp.
The headlights of the Donovan SUVs sliced through the thick smoke, their men operating with a ruthless precision that sent chills down my spine. The gunfire from our attackers had waned, their formation crumbling under the relentless weight of our reinforcements.
I lowered my rifle, my lungs screaming from the acrid smoke that filled the air. Adrenaline coursed through me, making my body tremble, and beside me, Tristan reloaded with an unshakeable calm, honed from years of facing battles just like this one.
Then, out of the chaos, I heard a resounding, rhythmic thud that had nothing to do with the gunfire.
The sound intensified, reverberating through the ground and rattling my very bones. My heart raced as my eyes shot upward.
It's helicopters.
Three ominous shapes broke through the darkened sky, searchlights slicing down to illuminate the shattered gardens with blinding white beams.
"No," I breathed, almost in disbelief.
Tristan's head snapped back, jaw clenched tight. "Get down!" he shouted.
In an instant, the first helicopter unleashed a hail of bullets. They rained down like angry locusts, shattering stone and tearing into the earth. Men yelled in terror as the courtyard devolved into pure chaos once again. The reinforcements who had just arrived were now scrambling for cover.
"Move!" Tristan shouted, yanking me behind a crumbling wall. Dust and debris filled the air, and the ground shook as bullets tore overhead.
"Helicopters?" Jamie's voice rang out, laced with panic yet somehow steady as he crouched beside us. "They actually brought helicopters?"
Charlie cursed colourfully, firing futilely into the sky before dragging another man into the shelter. "They're cutting us off from the gates!"
The estate trembled as rockets slammed into the far side of the grounds, flames licking up into the night, casting an eerie, apocalyptic glow around us.
I pressed my back against the stone, gripping my rifle so tightly my fingers throbbed. Fear twisted coldly in my gut, but beneath it thrummed something defiant. We had weathered the first wave, and we would face this storm head-on.
Tristan leaned out just enough to fire off a few covering shots, his posture taut and his focus razor-sharp. Then he turned to me, unwavering. "Stay with me, don't get separated."
"I won't," I promised, my voice steadier than the turmoil churning inside me.
The helicopters dipped lower, and ropes began to unfurl. Dark shapes glided down with soldiers, heavily armoured and armed, far more disciplined than the masked assailants we had faced.
"They're sending in the elites," Charlie growled, his expression a portrait of grim determination.
Tristan's eyes were locked on the descending soldiers, his voice a low, fierce whisper. "Then let's end this before they hit the ground."
The courtyard erupted into chaos once more, bullets ripping through the air as the Donovans retaliated. Edward's men regrouped, forming a defensive line, but even I could sense that this wasn't a fight we could hold.
It was a storm, crashing down on us.
For the first time, it struck me that if we didn't fight with every ounce of our being, we wouldn't live to see the dawn.