Angela gritted her teeth, staggering behind the thick tree roots, blood soaking into the dirt beneath her. Her hand pressed hard against the wound in her stomach—hot, wet, and pulsing. Every breath felt like fire in her chest.“Shit,” she muttered. “They got me.”She leaned against the trunk of a tree, her sniper rifle still slung across her shoulder. Her fingers trembled as they hovered near the scope. But she wasn’t ready to give up the weapon. Not yet.“Who the hell are those two?”Her voice came out hoarse, nearly a whisper to herself.She’d seen killers. Worked alongside butchers. Led raids in backwater jungles and war-torn cities. But those two—Dane and Jane—moved like wolves. Quiet. Calculated. Always watching. She’d underestimated them.She cursed again under her breath.Michael… Her partner. Her only ally in this cursed mission.He was gone.Angela didn’t need to check. She’d heard the shot. Seen the way he dropped. The way the birds scattered.She was alone now.“I have to s

Angela looked up at them through strands of sweaty, blood-matted hair, then—unexpectedly—she started laughing.A broken, soft laugh. It carried through the quiet forest like wind rustling through dry leaves.“You two…” she gasped, still grinning weakly, “you remind me… of myself.”Dane blinked. Jane narrowed her eyes. “What the hell are you talking about?”Angela winced, trying to sit up, failing. Blood soaked her side, and her leg shook. Still, her face lit with something like warmth—a strange contrast to the cold edge of death sitting on her shoulder.“When I was younger,” she said, voice thin, “I had a boyfriend. I was barely eighteen. We argued all the time. Silly things. Big things. Didn’t matter. But we always came back to each other. You two fight like that. There’s something between you—even if you both deny it.”Jane flinched slightly. Dane looked away, jaw tight.“You’re bleeding out,” Jane snapped, trying to shake the moment. “You’re about to die. Aren’t you scared? You thi

Jane clenched her jaw. “I knew something was off about you. Ever since you kept talking about the money, I had a feeling.”“Say your last prayers,” Jeremy said, raising the pistol and aiming directly at them.BANG!A gunshot rang out—but it didn’t come from Jeremy.Blood sprayed from his side as Jeremy staggered backward, groaning. Another shot followed, hitting him in the leg. He dropped the bag and crumpled to the ground.From behind a tree, a young man emerged. He looked no older than 19, wearing a dusty red bandana and carrying a small pistol. His eyes burned with purpose.“You’re not going anywhere,” he spat, then fired one more shot—hitting Jeremy square in the shoulder.Jeremy collapsed, writhing in pain.Before Dane or Jane could react, the boy darted off into the forest like a shadow, disappearing without a trace.Dane took a step forward, gun drawn, but paused.“Should we go after him?”Jane shook her head. “He’s gone.”On the ground, Jeremy was gasping, barely conscious.“H

Dane emerged from behind the tree like a bullet fired from a chamber—rage etched across his face.The memory of the exploding cash, shredded in an instant, fueled his fury. That money wasn’t just paper—it was power, protection, freedom. And now it burned in the forest air like it never existed.He raised his gun.Pop! Pop! Pop!Three shots rang out in quick succession. The forest echoed back with the cries of startled birds. Leaves ripped apart. Bark shattered. One of the young men in bandanas staggered backward, barely dodging the bullets.The other two raised their rifles—but Dane didn’t hesitate.With a smooth flick of his wrist, he reached into his vest and pulled out a grenade. He pulled the pin with his teeth.“You want explosions?” he growled. “Let me return the favor.”He tossed the grenade forward.It arced through the air like a glowing promise of death.One of the men turned to run—but Dane was already tracking him.He pulled the trigger again.The shot hit the runner in th

The ship was usually quiet in the mornings, save for the hum of the engines and the creak of steel against the river’s slow current.But not today.Dane woke suddenly, heart already racing. Before he was even fully conscious, he could hear the noise—distant yelling, the unmistakable echo of gunfire. It wasn’t a drill.He threw the blanket off and reached for his pistol on the nightstand. He pressed his ear to the metal door.More shouting. A scream. Then a staccato burst of bullets.He swung the door open and stepped into the hallway.Blood.Two of Butcher’s men lay crumpled just a few feet away, red spilling across the grated floor. One of them was still twitching, gasping. Another had a blade embedded in his throat.“Shit,” Dane muttered, stepping back, flattening himself against the wall.Then he saw them—Leo’s men.They moved like shadows, dressed in black tactical gear, faces half-covered with scarves. One kicked open a nearby door while the others moved down the hall, checking r