Forged In Fire
The four men moved like a trained unit, spreading out, cutting off exits, firing with controlled precision.
One of my guys—Tommy O'Brien—went down with a bullet to the shoulder. He hit the ground hard, cursing.
I pulled my Glock from my shoulder holster, returning fire. Took down one of the attackers with a shot to the chest. He dropped, but the other three kept coming.
This was a coordinated hit. Professional. Expensive.
Someone really wanted me dead.
I fired again, forcing one of them behind a column. Declan was on my left, laying down cover fire. But we were pinned, outnumbered, and—
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