Xiyan's mind raced as the tension in the air grew heavier with every step they took. The warehouse stretched ahead, silent and ominous, like the waiting jaws of some unseen predator. The weight of the night pressed down on her, but she refused to let it slow her down.
Stay focused.
She barely registered Qiao Zeyan's movements beside her, his footsteps light as he moved in sync with her, a quiet shadow in the darkness. He was the perfect partner—precise, calculating, and most importantly, silent. But tonight, his presence felt different. There was an unfamiliar tension in the air between them, and for the first time since they'd met, Xiyan could sense it wasn't just the mission that was on his mind.
Her eyes darted from shadow to shadow, her instincts screaming that they were being watched, her senses heightened. Move faster.
They neared the entrance of the warehouse, and Xiyan's grip on her knife tightened instinctively. She was prepared for whatever they might face in there. What she wasn't prepared for was the overwhelming sense of being outmatched.
A sudden movement to her left snapped her head around. She barely caught the flash of a figure disappearing into the shadows. Without hesitation, Xiyan gestured for Qiao to follow.
They moved in, staying low, creeping along the perimeter of the building. The sound of their breathing was the only thing keeping them grounded, the deafening silence of the place pressing down on them like a physical weight. Xiyan's heart beat in her throat, her eyes scanning every corner, every window.
And then—crack.
A noise. Too loud. Too obvious.
Qiao's head snapped in her direction. Xiyan held a finger to her lips, signaling him to stay quiet. The noise had come from the far end of the warehouse, where the shadows were deepest. Without a word, they moved as one, swift and fluid, their bodies working together like they'd done this a hundred times before.
As they reached the threshold of the main storage area, Xiyan felt a chill crawl down her spine. The air here was different—thicker, like it had been stagnant for years. She peered into the darkened interior, seeing nothing but the silhouette of crates stacked high and a faint flicker of light far ahead.
It's a trap. It has to be.
Her instincts flared, but she kept moving, each step deliberate, each movement controlled. The darkness seemed to shift around them, swallowing the light as they approached the center of the warehouse.
The silence was unbearable. Every footstep echoed too loudly in her ears, every breath too heavy.
And then—voices.
Soft at first, too muffled to make out, but unmistakable. The hairs on the back of Xiyan's neck stood on end as she motioned for Qiao to stop.
She didn't need to speak. They both knew.
The target wasn't alone.
They crouched behind a stack of crates, peeking through a gap in the wood to see a group of figures standing around a table, their low voices laced with tension. Xiyan's sharp eyes scanned each one, taking in the details. They weren't Hydra—at least, not in the traditional sense. These men were different. The tattoos that snaked down their arms were unfamiliar, an ancient symbol Xiyan couldn't place.
But there was something more. The man standing at the head of the table exuded power. His presence filled the room, even from this distance.
Xiyan narrowed her eyes. She had no doubt this was the man behind the attacks. His posture, his cold, calculating gaze—it was the same man who had spoken to her through the shadows.
Her breath caught in her throat. This is it. The man who has been pulling the strings.
Qiao Zeyan's voice was barely a whisper, but it still sent a jolt through her. "We're outnumbered. This isn't going to be easy."
Xiyan nodded. Her eyes never left the man at the head of the table. This was the moment she'd been preparing for, the culmination of everything that had led her here. But even as the excitement surged in her veins, a chill of doubt crept in.
Do I have what it takes to finish this?
She shook the thought away. No. I can't afford hesitation. Not now.
She glanced at Qiao, who was watching her with an unreadable expression. His eyes flicked between the men in the room, then back to her. The unspoken question hung in the air.
What's next?
Xiyan took a deep breath, her mind running through the options, calculating every angle. "We go in. No distractions. We take them out quickly and efficiently. We get what we need and get out."
Qiao studied her for a moment before nodding. He had always followed her lead, trusted her decisions, even when they seemed reckless. And this time? It would be no different.
"On your signal," he murmured, voice steady.
Xiyan didn't reply. Instead, she moved silently, slipping through the shadows, closer to the entrance of the room. Her mind was a blur of calculations, but there was no time for hesitation. They had the element of surprise—at least, for now.
With one last glance at Qiao, she gave the signal.
In an instant, they were inside, a blur of movement as they rushed forward. Xiyan's knife was in her hand, the blade catching the faint light as she closed the distance between them. Qiao followed closely behind, taking out the guards with swift precision. Their movements were seamless, as if they had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
But something was wrong.
The figures around the table didn't react as they should have. They didn't seem surprised at all.
Instead, they stood, stepping away from the table as if they had been waiting for this moment.
Xiyan's eyes locked onto the man at the head of the table, the leader. His eyes were cold, calculating, but there was something else there too. A flicker of recognition.
"You're too late," he said, his voice low, dripping with menace. "You always were."
And then, without warning, the room erupted into chaos.