He crouched down, his legs weakened by fear, almost crawling with both hands and feet toward the lightly damaged Mercedes G500 bullet-proof SUV, thirty meters ahead.
His military boots slipped on the gravel ground, almost causing him to fall twice, each time being harshly yanked back into balance by the guard.
Another guard named Diya clung closely to Barzani's other side.
This twenty-two-year-old came from Barzani's hometown, a distant relative's son with unquestionable loyalty.
At this moment, Diya's rifle was slung over his back, his hands spread wide open, his body slightly angled, forming a human shield between Barzani and the direction bullets might come from.
When they were still about twenty meters from the G500—
Thump—
A muffled thumping sound rang out.
It wasn't the crisp sound of a bullet hitting rock or metal, but the sickening, moist thud of it hitting flesh.
Diya's body jolted suddenly.
