PART 18: THE IRON COMPROMISE
The oak door splintered inward with a loud crash.
Three men in black tactical gear burst into the room, their weapons raised, scanning the shadows.
They expected a terrified corporate executive hiding behind a desk.
Instead, they found a hail of precision fire.
Camila stood behind a reinforced marble pillar, her rifle firing in controlled, three-round bursts.
The first attacker dropped instantly, his weapon clattering across the floorboards.
The remaining two dove for cover behind the leather sofas, returning fire that shattered the crystal chandelier above.
"Secure the girl!" one of them shouted in Russian.
Camila smiled in the dark, a cold, dangerous expression.
"You're in the wrong house," she whispered.
She dropped her empty magazine, sliding a fresh one into the rifle with a seamless, rhythmic motion that Alejandro had taught her a thousand times.
She didn't wait for them to flush her out.
She moved forward, using the smoke and the falling rain outside to mask her steps.
She caught the second attacker as he tried to flank the desk, a single shot ending his run.
The final operative threw his weapon down, raising his hands in absolute surrender as the red laser sight of Camila’s rifle centered exactly on his forehead.
"Who sent you?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the ringing silence of the room.
The man swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear as he looked at the woman standing over him.
"Kravchenko," he rasped.
"The oil minister. You... you froze his maritime accounts last week."
The door to the study swung open completely, and Marco rushed in with a team of security guards, their faces pale when they saw the scene.
Camila didn't lower her rifle from the prisoner's head.
"Clean this up, Marco," she ordered, her breathing steady.
"And call Alejandro."
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"Tell him to cancel his meetings in Singapore."
"We have a minister to remove from office."
