Home / Mystery/Thriller / THE GHOST PROTOCOL / CHAPTER SIX: THE MAN WHO SHOULD HAVE DIED
CHAPTER SIX: THE MAN WHO SHOULD HAVE DIED
Author: SG QUINN
last update2025-11-24 14:28:13

Night settled over the outskirts of the city like a thick, suffocating fog. The industrial district lay quiet, abandoned warehouses, rusted cranes, broken windows that stared out like dead eyes. Nothing moved. Nothing breathed.

Except him.

Adrian Kaine stood in the shadows beneath an old loading gantry, the cold wind biting into his skin through the torn sleeves of his shirt. His ribs still ached from the explosion hours ago, and the dried blood across his knuckles felt like a second skin, tight and cracking. But pain was a luxury he no longer allowed himself.

Pain meant he was still alive.

Anger meant he still had purpose.

He checked the magazine in his rifle, then raised his head slightly. A convoy approached in the distance, four armored SUVs, engines rumbling low like beasts in the dark.

They were coming exactly where he wanted them.

Inside the last SUV was the man he needed: Colonel Mason Kade, the government officer who signed the orders that sent Shadow Unit to their death. The man who announced Adrian’s death to the media with a straight face. The man who now hunted him on behalf of someone stronger.

Cipher.

Adrian’s jaw tightened.

Tonight wasn’t revenge.

Tonight was extraction.

Information. Answers. Names.

And if Kade refused?

Adrian cracked his neck slowly.

Then it became a funeral.

The convoy rolled toward the warehouse ahead, tires crunching over gravel. Floodlights snapped on from mounted poles, illuminating the open yard in pale white light.

Adrian watched from the darkness, silent as a corpse. Silent as the man they tried to bury.

Two squads of armed soldiers stepped out, scanning the area with trained precision. They wore black tactical suits with the Crest Division insignia, private military contractors on Kade’s payroll.

Twelve men.

No, fourteen.

Two snipers on the rooftops.

Good.

More bodies for the ground.

He moved.

Silent. Swift. Efficient.

Adrian scaled the ladder of the gantry with fluid motions, his boots never scraping metal. At the top, he crouched behind a rusted rail, raising his rifle. The world sharpened into focus, every breath of wind, every footstep below, every faint click of a radio forming a map in his mind.

He marked priority targets:

Snipers first.

Heavy gunners second.

Drivers third.

Kade last.

Always last.

He exhaled.

A slow, steady release of death.

Crack.

The first sniper dropped without a sound.

Crack.

The second fell backward, rifle flying from his hands.

Below, chaos erupted,but they didn’t know where to shoot.

“CONTACT! ROOFTOPS!”

Adrian fired again, dropped to the metal floor, rolled to the side, and reappeared at another angle.

He was already gone from the spot they aimed at.

Three soldiers advanced toward the gantry ladder. Adrian watched their formation, tight entry stack, good spacing. Trained, but predictable.

He slung his rifle and dropped down the ladder silently, stopping halfway. As the first soldier climbed up, Adrian grabbed his helmet, slammed his throat against the steel rung, and twisted. The body dropped down the ladder like a sack of meat.

The second soldier froze, but not fast enough.

Adrian leaped down, sweeping the man’s legs out before jamming a knife upward beneath the chin. The third spun, gun raised, finger tightening,

Adrian kicked the rifle aside, grabbed the man’s vest, and smashed him face-first into the metal post. Bone cracked. Blood sprayed in a fan across the rusted steel.

Three down.

Eleven left.

Gunfire erupted behind him. Adrian dropped behind a stack of crates as bullets shredded the wood. Splinters burst like sparks, cutting across his arms.

“KILL HIM! NOW! DON’T LET HIM GET CLOSE!”

One of the soldiers shouted, but Adrian was already moving. He slid between crates, threw himself into a roll, and popped up behind a forklift. Two quick shots, center mass, head dropped another pair.

Eight.

The heavy gunner opened fire, a rain of bullets smashing through crates and punching dents in the forklift. Adrian clenched his teeth and waited, breathing steadily. He counted the rhythm of the shots.

One second pause.

Two-second reload.

On the third pause, Adrian sprinted.

The heavy gunner saw him too late.

Adrian slid low, grabbed the man’s leg, tore him off balance, and yanked the weapon from his hands. He used the barrel as a lever and snapped it across the man’s throat, crushing his windpipe.

Seven.

Adrian barely turned in time as another soldier came charging with a combat knife. Adrian pivoted, kneeing him in the stomach, then slammed his elbow down on the man’s spine.

Six.

Gunfire cracked from behind, Adrian dove, rolled, and grabbed a fallen rifle mid-motion. He fired blind over a crate edge,

Thud.

Five.

More floodlights turned on. The yard flooded with blinding white light, robbing Adrian of shadows.

Colonel Kade stepped out of the final SUV, flanked by four armored guards. His face twisted when he saw Adrian alive, moving, killing.

“Kaine,” Kade hissed. “You should have stayed buried.”

Adrian stepped from behind the forklift, head tilted slightly, eyes cold as winter steel.

“So should you.”

Kade gestured sharply. “Shoot him!”

The guards raised rifles, but Adrian had already dropped to one knee. He fired two rounds, hitting the first guard behind the left shoulder plate. The second guard moved to the flank, but Adrian shot through the SUV window, glass exploding into a glittering rain.

Kade scrambled backward, shouting orders.

“GET ME OUT OF HERE! MOVE!”

But Adrian wasn’t aiming for the guards anymore.

He was aiming for the tires.

Three precise shots.

Rubber exploded.

The SUV tilted sideways.

Kade stumbled and fell, crawling across gravel, breath ragged.

Adrian advanced slowly, methodically, stepping over bodies like they were stepping stones. His boots left faint prints in the dust and blood.

Kade lifted his pistol with shaking hands.

“Stay back! I’ll shoot!”

Adrian didn’t stop.

“I MEAN IT!”

Adrian kicked the pistol aside.

Kade fell onto his back, looking up into the eyes of the man he betrayed.

“W–wait… we can talk. You don’t understand. It wasn’t me. I just signed the papers. I didn’t”

Adrian grabbed Kade by the collar, lifting him effortlessly.

“You signed my team’s death.”

“I–I had no choice, Cipher, Cipher owns everyone! I swear, I didn’t “

Adrian slammed Kade against the hood of the SUV.

“Where is Cipher?”

“I can’t tell you,” Kade choked. “They’ll kill me.”

Adrian leaned closer.

“I’ll kill you now.”

Kade broke. His voice cracked, spilling fear like blood.

“Cipher isn’t a person! It’s an… organization. A network. I only deal with one handler.”

“Name.”

Kade swallowed, trembling.

“His name is”

A bullet tore through the air.

THUD.

Kade froze.

His body jerked.

A dark hole opened in his forehead.

Someone else had fired the shot.

Adrian let go of Kade’s collar as the colonel’s corpse slid off the SUV hood and hit the ground.

Adrian spun, rifle raised, but the bullet hadn’t come from the remaining soldiers.

It came from the rooftops behind him.

A lone figure stood there.

Tall.

Masked.

Still as a statue.

He raised a gloved hand and touched his earpiece.

And a voice crackled through the yard speakers.

Distorted. Cold.

The voice from Adrian’s nightmares.

“Hello again, Ghost.”

Cipher.

“Still chasing shadows?”

Adrian gritted his teeth, scanning for angles.

“I told you,” Cipher continued through the speakers, “the dead should stay dead.”

The rooftop sniper took aim.

Adrian dove, just as the warehouse behind him erupted.

A shockwave slammed into him, flinging him across the yard. Fire burst upward, swallowing the sky in a tower of flame. Metal shattered. Glass blew outward in a deadly storm.

The blast ripped through the convoy, flipping cars, throwing bodies like puppets.

Adrian hit the ground hard, air punched from his lungs.

His ears rang.

His vision swam.

Heat scorched across his back.

He forced himself to crawl, dragging his bloodied body behind a fallen steel beam as secondary explosions roared.

Then

Bootsteps.

Slow. Calm. Inevitable.

Adrian blinked through the smoke.

Someone was walking toward him.

Marcus Hale.

His former brother-in-arms.

His friend.

The man he saved countless times.

Now wearing Cipher’s insignia on his vest.

Marcus stared down at Adrian through the rising flames, his expression unreadable.

“You never should have come back,” Marcus said quietly. “This time… I finished the job.”

He raised his rifle.

And behind him, within the fire, a second shadow moved.

Another figure.

A mask.

A silhouette.

Cipher.

Watching.

Waiting.

As Adrian, broken, bleeding, smoke choking his lungs, reached blindly for a fallen weapon…

Marcus pulled the trigger.

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