THE LAST GUARDIAN OF GREYFENWOOD

Chapter 9: Field Operation

Thirty meters above the ground, the world felt slightly safer, though significantly colder.

Greyfenwood Forest was home to ancient Sequoias with canopies as thick as rooftops. It was on one of these giant branches, wide as a sedan, that Finnian dumped Elena Vance's body roughly.

"Aaargh!" Elena screamed, a stifled cry as her back hit the hard bark.

"Shh. Quiet or die," Finnian hissed. He knelt beside her, scanning the darkness below.

The forest beneath them was alive. The sound of snapping twigs, the hum of mechanical breathing, and the sweep of red laser beams from the eyes of Hellhounds could be seen roaming the forest floor. They were like land sharks smelling blood. And Elena's blood was dripping, leaving a sweet scent trail for those iron predators.

Finnian let out a long breath, then leaned his rifle against the tree trunk. The Gauntlet on his left hand still hummed softly, its light dimmed to avoid attracting attention.

"Listen, Doc," Finnian said, ripping open Elena's shattered sleeve. "I don't have morphine. I don't have anesthesia. All I have is gunpowder and bad intentions."

Elena gasped for air, her face pale as a sheet, cold sweat soaking her limp hair. Her eyes stared at her destroyed right shoulder. The collarbone was fractured, protruding slightly through the skin torn by the high-velocity bullet.

"You... you're insane..." Elena muttered, her teeth chattering.

"And you're dying from arterial bleeding," Finnian retorted coldly. He ejected a bullet from his pistol magazine, then used a knife to pry the bullet head off, pouring the black gunpowder over Elena's open wound.

Elena's eyes widened as she realized what the man was about to do. "Wait! Don't—"

"Bite this." Finnian stuffed a roll of dirty uniform cloth into Elena's mouth.

Without warning, Finnian struck his zippo lighter and ignited the gunpowder on Elena's shoulder.

FWOOSH.

Fire cauterized flesh and blood. The sound of sizzling meat (sizzle) was horrific in the silence of the night. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted the nose.

Elena screamed behind the gag. Her body convulsed violently, back arching, eyes rolling back white as if her soul had just been yanked out. The pain was blinding, burning every nerve ending in her shoulder. Then, Elena passed out.

Finnian put out the remaining embers by patting them with his human hand. The wound was sealed. Ugly, black, and terrible, but the bleeding stopped. Old-school field cauterization. Primitive, but effective.

"Sleep tight, Sleeping Beauty," Finnian murmured, wiping sweat from his own forehead.

He retreated, leaning back against the main trunk. He was exhausted. His muscles screamed. The energy from the Core and the Dryad began to fade, leaving a gnawing hunger in his stomach.

Rain began to fall. Cold droplets penetrated the canopy, washing the blood from Finnian's hands.

Finnian opened what remained of his tattered shirt, stripping it off completely to let the rain wash his own wounds. He sat topless, revealing a body covered in scars—a map of a history of violence.

An hour passed.

Elena groaned softly, consciousness returning. The pain in her shoulder had turned into a hot, dull throb. She opened her eyes, seeing the silhouette of Finnian sitting facing the forest, his back to her.

Under the dim moonlight, Elena saw it.

The man's back was a canvas of criminal art.

A giant tattoo covered Finnian's entire back. An image of a black dragon coiled around an inverted cross sword, surrounded by thorny roses and skulls. It wasn't just any tattoo. The ink used a blend of Irezumi and Celtic styles.

Elena's breath hitched. She was a scientist, but she lived in a world ruled by corporate criminals. She knew that crest.

"O'Connell..." Elena whispered, her voice hoarse.

Finnian turned his head slightly, his profile sharp like a cracked Greek statue. "You awake? Don't move too much, my stitching isn't art."

Elena tried to sit up, ignoring the pain. A new fear appeared in her eyes. "That's the Dublin Syndicate tattoo. Elite executioner branch. You... you're 'The Hound of London'."

Finnian didn't answer. He simply caught rain water with a large leaf and drank it.

"I read the archives when I worked for Iron Fang," Elena continued, scooting back until her spine hit the tree bark. "Finnian O'Connell. The hitman who wiped out the entire Bratva board of directors single-handedly in 2021. They said you died in an explosion in Berlin."

"People say a lot of things," Finnian said flatly. He turned his body, staring at Elena. His gaze was unfriendly. There was darkness there, something far more dangerous than the forest below them. "Sometimes dead men choose to stay dead so they don't have to deal with chatty women like you."

"Why did you save me?" Elena asked, her tone defensive.

Finnian shrugged. "You have access. I need access. Don't feel special. You're just a spare key that breathes."

The answer was cold, transactional, and hurtful. Elena swallowed hard. She watched the man close his eyes, head leaning back casually, as if he were napping in a park. The gauntlet on his left hand dimmed completely.

Silence reigned for several minutes. Finnian appeared fast asleep. His breathing was regular.

Elena glanced at Finnian's pistol. It lay beside his thigh, just an arm's reach away.

Elena's mind raced. He's a criminal monster. He saved me only to use me. Thorne is evil, but this hitman is unpredictable. If I have the weapon, I hold the control.

Elena's hand moved slowly, trembling against the pain in her shoulder. She crawled closer, millimeter by millimeter. Her heart beat fast like a drum.

She got closer. Her fingers almost touched the cold grip of the pistol. Finnian didn't move.

Elena held her breath. Just a little more...

She grabbed the pistol as fast as she could.

WHAM.

The world spun upside down.

Before Elena's finger could even touch the trigger, an iron hand clamped around her wrist. Strong, absolute, inevitable.

Finnian's eyes snapped open. There was no sleepiness there. Only the awareness of a predator playing with its food.

Finnian flipped Elena over, pinning her to the branch floor, his weight on top of her. He locked both of her hands above her head with his single iron hand. The pistol slipped, rolling away.

Their faces were inches apart. Elena could feel Finnian's warm breath on her lips, mixed with the scent of rain and dangerous masculinity. Finnian's hard thigh pressed against Elena's hip, creating a position both intimate and threatening.

Finnian's right hand drew the Bowie knife from his waist, pressing the cold side of the blade against Elena's soft neck. Right over the artery.

"Smart, but slow," Finnian whispered, his voice low and raspy.

Elena stared into those green eyes. There was a mix of bloodlust and... something else? Adrenaline made Elena's cheeks flush.

"You... you pretended to sleep," Elena hissed.

Finnian pressed the knife a little deeper, enough to scratch the skin, drawing a single bead of fresh crimson. "In my world, Doc, sleep is a luxury for the dead. And you just tried to buy your ticket."

"I just wanted to survive!"

"By stealing my gun?" Finnian grinned cynically. He brought his face closer to Elena's ear, his lips brushing her lobe, sending shivers down her spine. "Give me one reason... one good reason why I shouldn't throw you down right now and let those dogs make you a chew toy."

"Because..." Elena gasped, her heaving chest touching Finnian's bare chest. "Because without me... you'll never know how to turn off the *kill-switch* in your own blood. Thorne installed a genetic tracker. You need me."

Finnian went silent for a moment. He stared deep into Elena's eyes, looking for a lie. He didn't find one.

Slowly, Finnian withdrew his knife. He released his grip, but didn't get up immediately. He let his weight press on Elena a moment longer, savoring the tension between them—the confusing mix of fear and attraction.

"Good answer," Finnian said, getting up and sitting back in his original spot. "Sleep, Doc. If you try to touch my weapon again... I'll cut off those pretty hands."

Elena clutched her bruised wrist, her heart still racing madly. She turned her back to Finnian, staring into the forest darkness.

The night was long. And they both knew, the real monster wasn't the one howling beneath the tree, but the one sitting silently on the branch with her.

***