Victor did not wait to think. The moment the door opened, his gun went off, and the deafening sound filled the truck until Vincent's ears rang.
Lucero's men were quick to respond; bullets slammed into the walls, sparks flying from metal as the two of them dove for cover.
Victor crouched behind a stack of crates and returned fire with sharp precision, his movements efficient, almost mechanical.
The confined space turned the air heavy with smoke and the smell of gunpowder, and each gunshot felt like it shook the ground beneath them.
"Victor, there are about five left!"
Vincent called, forcing his way out of the crate he had been hiding in.
"Then stop talking and shoot," Victor barked.
He swung his leg forward and kicked one of the heavy boxes. It toppled and crashed against the floor, scattering their attackers for a brief moment.
The noise was enough to break their rhythm, and both men seized the chance.
