Chapter 5 - SHADOWS IN THE SMOKEThrough the billowing white smoke of the blown-out elevator shaft, three black-clad operatives poured into the penthouse, rifles raised, night-vision goggles glowing an eerie green in the haze.
“Clear left!” shouted the lead operator through his comms.
They never made it past the threshold.
Before the first operative could level his barrel, a streak of brindle fur cut through the smoke like a missile. Titan didn’t bark; he struck with the ruthless, silent efficiency of a guided kinetic weapon.
CRACK.
Titan slammed his eighty-pound mass directly into the chest of the lead operator, sending the heavily armored soldier crashing hard against the drywall. Before the man could recover, Titan’s jaws clamped onto the forearm holding the rifle, applying crushing, bone-fracturing pressure. The soldier screamed, dropping his weapon as agony ripped through his arm.
“Contact! Left flank!” the second operator yelled, swinging his rifle toward the dog.
RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!
Marcus stepped out from behind a concrete pillar, his suppressed SIG Sauer spitting silenced death. Two 9mm rounds caught the second operator in the ceramic plates of his vest, dropping him instantly to his knees, gasping for breath.
The third operator raised his carbine to fire at Marcus, but a shadow dropped from the structural beam above—Titan had scaled the interior balcony railing, using the architecture like a jungle canopy.
With terrifying momentum, Titan landed squarely on the third operator’s helmet, driving the man’s face violently into the Italian marble floor. The operative went limp instantly, knocked out cold.
In less than six seconds, the vanguard of the black-ops clean-up squad was neutralized.
Marcus lowered his smoking barrel, staring in absolute disbelief at the Malinois. The dog stood calmly over the unconscious operator, shaking a speck of dust from his scarred muzzle, his amber eyes locked steadily on the smoking elevator shaft where three more shadow-ops figures were rapidly advancing.
“Jesus Christ,” Marcus breathed, shaking his head. “That dog fights better than my entire assault team.”
“They’re not sending local thugs anymore, Marcus,” Victor said, stepping forward, his MPX locked and loaded, his face carved from ice. “That was just the reconnaissance wave. The heavy hitters are coming up the emergency stairwell.”
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Victor knelt down beside Titan, looking directly into those intelligent amber eyes. “You ready to finish what you started in Afghanistan, boy?”
Titan let out a low, guttural growl, his tail giving a single, rigid twitch of affirmation.
