Total pages in book: 172
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 780(@200wpm)___ 624(@250wpm)___ 520(@300wpm)
“How many coming at us, Ambroise?” he asked.
“Looks like about fifty. They have the house surrounded.”
The sniper rifles were sounding off, but leopards were shadows and they had made progress coming in behind the sacrifices, unseen for quite a distance. Sevastyan didn’t have time. He waited impatiently for Flambé to tell him she’d come. It wasn’t like he could send Kirill and Matvei after her. No male leopard could go near her.
He stared down at her text, not believing his eyes when her answer came, but he should have known. He swore at the top of his lungs in his native language and then shifted on the run, trusting Ambroise to lock up after the leopards exited the house. No one could get inside. Even if they tried burning Mitya and Ania out, they couldn’t get to them.
Sevastyan couldn’t think about Flambé and what was happening to her, not when vicious leopards invaded the property from every direction. They were coming at the house from the trees, across the rolling hills, the meadow, the paths in the woods, even the road in front of the house.
“Coming up over the back fence to try for the roof,” Christophe reported.
The leopards would find that a hard landing. Sevastyan had been prepared for them using the fences as a spring-board to the rooftop of the house. The roof was ringed with hidden spears. As the cats landed on the sharpened points, they shrieked, the sound piercing the night. Their bellies were punctured, their bodies caught and held until one of the men on the rooftop turned and fired, putting them out of their misery, killing them.
“Back patio, going for the fence and patio,” Christophe continued.
The back patio seemed another good entry point. That was directly off the kitchen. The herb and vegetable gardens surrounded the patio where tables and chairs had a covered awning. Ania enjoyed sitting outside, especially in the mornings, with her coffee. Two leopards leapt onto the overhead covering and one clawed his way up the side of the column to the thick support beam, attempting to drag himself onto the roof from that angle.
The awning ripped slightly, just a minute tear, but all three leopards dug their claws into the support beam. Their thick stiletto-like claws struck metal in the beam. The three dug deeper for a better purchase and a flash went off, a small explosion knocking them backward, blowing them apart, so that fur, bones, blood and muscle and sinew rained down.
The first wave of leopards hit the front yard of the house, ten of them, coming in fast, males in their prime, scarred from numerous battles, confident in the knowledge that they were experienced. They expected their opponents, although mafia, to be from the city and easily overcome by their sheer numbers, not to mention weak, with few skills.
Sevastyan had already spotted the commander of the team, a big bastard, golden coat with large fancy rosettes. He had allowed his men to sweep into the yard, running at the house to come at the porch as if they could somehow break down the doors or windows just with their sheer numbers. They were big leopards and maybe that tactic had worked for them in the past, but Rolan should have prepared them better for his opponent.
Sevastyan’s leopards were either born in the same lair in Russia as he had been, or one of his uncle’s lairs. They’d trained as he had. If not in Russia, they’d been born and trained in the rain forests. All of his shifters were experienced fighters, skilled in every kind of battle with leopards or man. He would put his men or leopards up against Rolan’s anytime.
Shturm shouldered a big brute of a male out of his way, furious that these leopards were keeping him from his mate, and rushed toward the commander. The golden leopard hadn’t yet spotted him. He was too busy stalking Zakhar. Zakhar’s leopard was never that far from Shturm. He was a big Amur, very distinctive with his thick white undercoat, and his dark rosettes so close together and so large that he looked as if he had a black top coat over the white undercoat. No one had a pelt like Zakhar. His leopard was simply named Istrebitel, meaning fighter.
Had the golden leopard not been so confident, he might have been paying a little more attention to the scars in Istrebitel’s strange markings. Instead, he stalked the leopard, weaving in and out of the other combatants. Shturm went low to the ground, allowing two leopards who tried to ram into his sides to slam into each other hard while he slid between two fighting males, bringing him closer to his target.
The golden male bunched his legs under him, readying for the charge, his eyes in a focused stare. Zakhar faced a younger male, one coming into his prime, eager for battle, already charging the larger Amur leopard, attempting to drive him off his feet. Shturm knew it was a ploy to keep Istrebitel’s attention on him in order for the golden leopard to leap on his back and break his spine, delivering the killing bite quickly.