The scene left Ethan completely disoriented.
What the hell was going on? The gunman hadn't hesitated for even a second; he'd been looking straight at him, as if all of it revolved around Ethan's presence.
His car was twenty or thirty meters away—too far to reach without being completely exposed. And there were civilians everywhere. One stray shot and an innocent person could get hurt.
That wasn't an option.
—What the hell just happened? —Nola murmured quietly, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the scene.
—I don't know, —Ethan replied— but it looks like I was the target. The guy we saw in the diner killed the sniper who shot at us.
—So what do we do now? —she asked—. We're way too exposed.
—Let me think…
Ethan scanned the area. Stopped cars, distracted pedestrians, and too many open angles. Then he saw it: an alley crossing the street, flanked by two tall buildings.
—We cross to the other side and take the side alley. I'll cover you.
Nola nodded. She trusted Ethan with her life.
She slipped a hand under her wool sweater and pulled out a Glock from her dimensional space, as if it had always been there. The weapon appeared naturally in her palm—part of her hidden arsenal, along with ammo, first-aid kits, and other gear. She would never be careless again.
—Alright, —Nola said, already moving.
She didn't wait for an answer. She stepped forward half a pace.
—Now, —she ordered firmly.
Ethan took a single breath.
He straightened abruptly, spun out from cover, and in the same motion raised his weapon and fired toward the man positioned on the rooftops.
The recoil ran up his arm as the shot cracked sharply, echoing off concrete and metal.
At the same time, Nola sprinted across the street.
Ethan's movement was so sudden that the man in the leather jacket froze for a split second, eyes wide in surprise.
He snapped out of it when a bullet grazed the cold metal railing beside him, throwing off sparks.
He didn't hesitate.
He dove for cover as the echo of the shot still bounced between buildings. Then panic broke loose—people screamed and ran in all directions, abandoning the street in a chaotic stampede.
That second was enough.
In one or two heartbeats, Ethan closed the distance and dove into the alley after Nola. Wastewater splashed everywhere underfoot. Ethan activated his radar and pushed forward fast.
Passivity wasn't in his nature; Ethan wanted to grab the man from before and interrogate him about what was going on—because he wanted him dead.
Suddenly, halfway down the alley, he turned around.
The light point behind him, moving at the same speed, pivoted just as quickly. Through the fragmented reflections in parked car windows, Ethan spotted it.
A woman with black hair. At first glance, she looked like just another passerby, but her gait was too cautious, too measured. One hand stayed hidden inside her coat. His instincts didn't hesitate: she was armed.
Ethan tagged the light point corresponding to the woman, then lifted his gaze toward the small chapel at the end of the street.
—Ten o'clock, —he murmured—. That woman is following us. We need to split up. I'll draw her toward the church at the end of the street; you circle around behind her.
—Got it, —Nola replied without hesitation.
She understood instantly and changed direction, moving off to flank the perimeter.
At the end of the street stood an abandoned church. Weeds had grown wild around it, crawling up the cracked walls like starving fingers. The wooden door hung slightly ajar.
Ethan didn't stop. He pushed it open and went inside.
The church was empty. The pews, old and worn, creaked faintly under the weight of years of silence.
A massive cross hung on the far wall. Aside from a few large stone pillars, the entire space was visible at a glance.
Ethan took cover behind one of the pillars.
Nola stayed outside, watching, listening, counting seconds.
The sound of light footsteps rose—then faded back into silence.
Ethan pressed his head against the cold stone pillar and looked through the tall window beside the cross.
Sunlight filtered in, making dust motes float in the air. All that was missing were a few pigeons. It would be wonderful if some white doves flew through later, he thought.
Just as he drifted into that thought, the light point at the doorway began to move.
The footsteps were barely audible, almost silent.
The black-haired woman glanced at her phone, her weapon shifting in her hand accordingly. Inside the church, all four walls were made of gray stone.
She advanced carefully, measuring every step, checking each pillar one by one.
—Don't move.
The voice came from behind her.
She froze instantly. She felt the cold edge of a blade pressed against her throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the one holding her—another woman, very similar to her.
She made no unnecessary movements.
—Drop the weapon! —Ethan shouted as he stepped out from behind the pillar— You haven't lost your touch. I thought you'd gone soft sitting behind a desk.
The woman released the pistol, which hit the stone floor with a dull thud.
—I'm a little rusty, —Nola replied with a smile.
Ethan kept his gun trained.
—On your knees. And don't do anything stupid.
Her knees hit the stone floor with a sharp sound. Then she raised her hands in front of her, open, showing she was holding nothing.
—On your knees. And don't do anything stupid, —Ethan repeated, not lowering the gun.
—Who are you, exactly? Who ordered you to attack me?
The dark-haired woman, of Asian descent, snapped indignantly:
—I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you just kill me?
Bang!
Ethan fired at her feet.
The woman's eyelashes fluttered, but her expression stayed calm.
—The next shot goes into your knee.
Ethan asked coldly:
—Who are you?
She slowly lifted her gaze, still kneeling.
—My name is Lai Lai Zheng.
Ethan took half a step forward.
—Who sent you to kill me?
—Huh?
The silence tightened.
—Talk, —Ethan ordered, lowering the hammer with a sharp click.
Lai Lai frowned, looking at him as if he made no sense.
—Are you joking? —She finally said— You're not in the competition?
Nola, leaning against the pillar, tilted her head, studying her. Ethan didn't answer, but his expression hardened further.
—What competition? —Ethan asked through clenched teeth.
Lai Lai blinked, visibly confused. She looked at Ethan, then at Nola, as if checking whether she was wasting her time.
—It's not exactly a competition, —she said at last— It's a hunt.
She paused briefly before continuing.
—Assassins from all over the world are selected and dropped into a city. They implant trackers in us, give us a target… and then they cut us loose without warning. The last one left alive wins.
The silence grew heavy.
Nola frowned.
—And you thought he was one of you?
Lai Lai nodded slowly.
—Yes. We all have a tracker under our skin. And that's what led me to him.
She lowered her head, carefully dropped her hands, and pointed to her lower abdomen.
—It'd be better if I showed you. Just don't shoot, alright?
Ethan nodded, but didn't lower his guard.
Lai Lai slowly lifted her shirt under her jacket.
Low on her abdomen was a small wound, barely two or three centimeters long. It had been stitched, but the dark tone of the skin showed it was recent.
Nola watched closely, saying nothing.
Ethan frowned, then lifted his own shirt to reveal his unmarked abdomen.
—Shit, —Lai Lai muttered under her breath as she slowly pulled out a phone, unlocked it, and helplessly showed it to Ethan—You're transmitting a signal.
On the phone screen, several points of light blinked; two of them overlapped, and a countdown timer ticked at the bottom.
—You need to tell me exactly what's going on.
Ethan lowered his gun.
—Everything.
A bullet tore through the window like thunder. The impact violently snapped Lai Lai's head back, her body thrown backward and collapsing onto the stone floor without a sound.
It all happened in less than a second.
Nola reacted instantly, spinning around to find the source of the shot.
—Sniper! —she spat.
Ethan dove for cover, his heart pounding hard in his chest.
Lai Lai didn't move. Her blood began to spread slowly across the cold stone floor of the church.
—Nola, are you okay?! —Ethan shouted as he snatched the phone from Lai Lai's lifeless hand.
—Yes, —she replied without taking her eyes off their surroundings—, but we need to move. Now.
—Bang!
The explosion that followed shattered the main door.
Wood fragments flew in all directions, slamming into the chapel walls with sharp cracks. Ethan threw himself sideways and rolled into cover behind a stone pillar.
A new point of light immediately appeared on his radar.
It was moving fast, circling the chapel.
Bang, bang, bang!
Glass shattered in rapid succession, the air vibrating with each impact.
Nola took cover behind another pillar, crouched low with her back against the stone. Her eyes locked onto the weapon Lai Lai had dropped.
The pistol lay at Ethan's feet.
—Ethan, the gun! —Nola shouted, pointing at the floor.
Seeing the weapon beside him, Ethan reached out and shoved it toward her. Nola grabbed it quickly, checking the magazine. It was full.
—Now what do we do? —She asked.
Clang.
A grenade bounced across the floor and rolled toward Ethan.
—Shit!
Ethan reacted instantly. He kicked the grenade mid-roll, sending it flying back the way it came—faster.
—Boom!
A bulky man crashed through the chapel window in a shower of glass.
He froze when he saw the grenade flying straight at him.
Bang!
The explosion threw him backward onto the floor. By sheer luck, it wasn't a fragmentation grenade, but a flashbang. Even so, the blast left him disoriented, ears ringing, vision reduced to a sea of white light.
He hit the ground with a groan.
Blindly, he began to crawl, using arms and legs to drag himself away from the epicenter, leaving grooves in the dusty stone floor.
Bang, bang, bang!
Ethan emerged from behind the stone pillar, his Glock spitting fire nonstop.
The pews, already battered by explosions, shattered under the impacts. Smoke, splinters, and dust filled the air, thickening until visibility dropped to almost nothing.
The body on the ground moved fast, driven by pure survival… but not fast enough.
Two bursts of blood erupted almost simultaneously, and the man let out a roar of rage and pain.
Barely, he managed to reach the shotgun slung across his back and fired toward the source of the shots.
The pew next to Ethan exploded into splinters.
Before he could fire again, a figure burst through the smoke.
Nola.
A spinning kick smashed into the weapon, sending it flying.
Taking advantage of the man's injuries, Nola lunged at him and brought both hands to his lower back.
A cold flash appeared.
Two curved blades, like eagle talons.
—Swish. Swish. Swish.
Blood sprayed.
The man's neck was destroyed.
Nola rolled aside and picked up the fallen shotgun, looking down at the body with disdain.
—Another assassin? —She asked, a knot in her stomach.
—Looks like it, —Ethan replied as he searched him.
In the man's clothing, he found oval aluminum tags. In the center, etched in black, stood the symbol of a bat.
Ethan held them for a moment, then looked up.
—Russian military intelligence.
Ethan frowned, remembering the metallic taste of the coffee.
Nola looked at his stomach.
—You think someone…? —she began quietly.
—Someone removed the tracker and slipped it into my coffee to use me as bait, —Ethan finished. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of rage and clarity—
Nola let out a short, humorless laugh.
—Clever, —she said—. Or very brave… and very, very stupid for choosing you.
Ethan clenched his fist hard. His knuckles cracked.
He remembered the metallic taste, the instant when something hadn't felt right, the sensation of being watched without knowing it.
He looked up, jaw tight.
In his mind, there was only one certainty.
The son of a bitch who dragged him into this… was going to pay. The scene left Ethan completely disoriented.
What the hell was going on? The gunman hadn't hesitated for even a second; he'd been looking straight at him, as if all of it revolved around Ethan's presence.
His car was twenty or thirty meters away—too far to reach without being completely exposed. And there were civilians everywhere. One stray shot and an innocent person could get hurt.
That wasn't an option.
—What the hell just happened? —Nola murmured quietly, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the scene.
—I don't know, —Ethan replied— but it looks like I was the target. The guy we saw in the diner killed the sniper who shot at us.
—So what do we do now? —she asked—. We're way too exposed.
—Let me think…
Ethan scanned the area. Stopped cars, distracted pedestrians, and too many open angles. Then he saw it: an alley crossing the street, flanked by two tall buildings.
—We cross to the other side and take the side alley. I'll cover you.
Nola nodded. She trusted Ethan with her life.
She slipped a hand under her wool sweater and pulled out a Glock from her dimensional space, as if it had always been there. The weapon appeared naturally in her palm—part of her hidden arsenal, along with ammo, first-aid kits, and other gear. She would never be careless again.
—Alright, —Nola said, already moving.
She didn't wait for an answer. She stepped forward half a pace.
—Now, —she ordered firmly.
Ethan took a single breath.
He straightened abruptly, spun out from cover, and in the same motion raised his weapon and fired toward the man positioned on the rooftops.
The recoil ran up his arm as the shot cracked sharply, echoing off concrete and metal.
At the same time, Nola sprinted across the street.
Ethan's movement was so sudden that the man in the leather jacket froze for a split second, eyes wide in surprise.
He snapped out of it when a bullet grazed the cold metal railing beside him, throwing off sparks.
He didn't hesitate.
He dove for cover as the echo of the shot still bounced between buildings. Then panic broke loose—people screamed and ran in all directions, abandoning the street in a chaotic stampede.
That second was enough.
In one or two heartbeats, Ethan closed the distance and dove into the alley after Nola. Wastewater splashed everywhere underfoot. Ethan activated his radar and pushed forward fast.
Passivity wasn't in his nature; Ethan wanted to grab the man from before and interrogate him about what was going on—because he wanted him dead.
Suddenly, halfway down the alley, he turned around.
The light point behind him, moving at the same speed, pivoted just as quickly. Through the fragmented reflections in parked car windows, Ethan spotted it.
A woman with black hair. At first glance, she looked like just another passerby, but her gait was too cautious, too measured. One hand stayed hidden inside her coat. His instincts didn't hesitate: she was armed.
Ethan tagged the light point corresponding to the woman, then lifted his gaze toward the small chapel at the end of the street.
—Ten o'clock, —he murmured—. That woman is following us. We need to split up. I'll draw her toward the church at the end of the street; you circle around behind her.
—Got it, —Nola replied without hesitation.
She understood instantly and changed direction, moving off to flank the perimeter.
At the end of the street stood an abandoned church. Weeds had grown wild around it, crawling up the cracked walls like starving fingers. The wooden door hung slightly ajar.
Ethan didn't stop. He pushed it open and went inside.
The church was empty. The pews, old and worn, creaked faintly under the weight of years of silence.
A massive cross hung on the far wall. Aside from a few large stone pillars, the entire space was visible at a glance.
Ethan took cover behind one of the pillars.
Nola stayed outside, watching, listening, counting seconds.
The sound of light footsteps rose—then faded back into silence.
Ethan pressed his head against the cold stone pillar and looked through the tall window beside the cross.
Sunlight filtered in, making dust motes float in the air. All that was missing were a few pigeons. It would be wonderful if some white doves flew through later, he thought.
Just as he drifted into that thought, the light point at the doorway began to move.
The footsteps were barely audible, almost silent.
The black-haired woman glanced at her phone, her weapon shifting in her hand accordingly. Inside the church, all four walls were made of gray stone.
She advanced carefully, measuring every step, checking each pillar one by one.
—Don't move.
The voice came from behind her.
She froze instantly. She felt the cold edge of a blade pressed against her throat.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the one holding her—another woman, very similar to her.
She made no unnecessary movements.
—Drop the weapon! —Ethan shouted as he stepped out from behind the pillar—You haven't lost your touch. I thought you'd gone soft sitting behind a desk.
The woman released the pistol, which hit the stone floor with a dull thud.
—I'm a little rusty, —Nola replied with a smile.
Ethan kept his gun trained.
—On your knees. And don't do anything stupid.
Her knees hit the stone floor with a sharp sound. Then she raised her hands in front of her, open, showing she was holding nothing.
—On your knees. And don't do anything stupid, —Ethan repeated, not lowering the gun.
—Who are you, exactly? Who ordered you to attack me?
The dark-haired woman, of Asian descent, snapped indignantly:
—I don't know what you're talking about. Why don't you just kill me?
Bang!
Ethan fired at her feet.
The woman's eyelashes fluttered, but her expression stayed calm.
—The next shot goes into your knee.
Ethan asked coldly:
—Who are you?
She slowly lifted her gaze, still kneeling.
—My name is Lai Lai Zheng.
Ethan took half a step forward.
—Who sent you to kill me?
—Huh?
The silence tightened.
—Talk, —Ethan ordered, lowering the hammer with a sharp click.
Lai Lai frowned, looking at him as if he made no sense.
—Are you joking? —She finally said—. Are you not in the competition?
Nola, leaning against the pillar, tilted her head, studying her. Ethan didn't answer, but his expression hardened further.
—What competition? —Ethan asked through clenched teeth.
Lai Lai blinked, visibly confused. She looked at Ethan, then at Nola, as if checking whether she was wasting her time.
—It's not exactly a competition, —she said at last— It's a hunt.
She paused briefly before continuing.
—Assassins from all over the world are selected and dropped into a city. They implant trackers in us, give us a target… and then they cut us loose without warning. The last one left alive wins.
The silence grew heavy.
Nola frowned.
—And you thought he was one of you?
Lai Lai nodded slowly.
—Yes. We all have a tracker under our skin. And that's what led me to him.
She lowered her head, carefully dropped her hands, and pointed to her lower abdomen.
—It'd be better if I show you. Just don't shoot, alright?
Ethan nodded, but didn't lower his guard.
Lai Lai slowly lifted her shirt under her jacket.
Low on her abdomen was a small wound, barely two or three centimeters long. It had been stitched, but the dark tone of the skin showed it was recent.
Nola watched closely, saying nothing.
Ethan frowned, then lifted his own shirt to reveal his unmarked abdomen.
—Shit, —Lai Lai muttered under her breath as she slowly pulled out a phone, unlocked it, and helplessly showed it to Ethan— You're transmitting a signal.
On the phone screen, several points of light blinked; two of them overlapped, and a countdown timer ticked at the bottom.
—You need to tell me exactly what's going on.
Ethan lowered his gun.
—Everything.
A bullet tore through the window like thunder. The impact violently snapped Lai Lai's head back, her body thrown backward and collapsing onto the stone floor without a sound.
It all happened in less than a second.
Nola reacted instantly, spinning around to find the source of the shot.
—Sniper! —she spat.
Ethan dove for cover, his heart pounding hard in his chest.
Lai Lai didn't move. Her blood began to spread slowly across the cold stone floor of the church.
—Nola, are you okay?! —Ethan shouted as he snatched the phone from Lai Lai's lifeless hand.
—Yes, —she replied without taking her eyes off their surroundings—, but we need to move. Now.
—Bang!
The explosion that followed shattered the main door.
Wood fragments flew in all directions, slamming into the chapel walls with sharp cracks. Ethan threw himself sideways and rolled into cover behind a stone pillar.
A new point of light immediately appeared on his radar.
It was moving fast, circling the chapel.
Bang, bang, bang!
Glass shattered in rapid succession, the air vibrating with each impact.
Nola took cover behind another pillar, crouched low with her back against the stone. Her eyes locked onto the weapon Lai Lai had dropped.
The pistol lay at Ethan's feet.
—Ethan, the gun! —Nola shouted, pointing at the floor.
Seeing the weapon beside him, Ethan reached out and shoved it toward her. Nola grabbed it quickly, checking the magazine. It was full.
—Now what do we do? —She asked.
Clang.
A grenade bounced across the floor and rolled toward Ethan.
—Shit!
Ethan reacted instantly. He kicked the grenade mid-roll, sending it flying back the way it came—faster.
—Boom!
A bulky man crashed through the chapel window in a shower of glass.
He froze when he saw the grenade flying straight at him.
Bang!
The explosion threw him backward onto the floor. By sheer luck, it wasn't a fragmentation grenade, but a flashbang. Even so, the blast left him disoriented, ears ringing, vision reduced to a sea of white light.
He hit the ground with a groan.
Blindly, he began to crawl, using arms and legs to drag himself away from the epicenter, leaving grooves in the dusty stone floor.
Bang, bang, bang!
Ethan emerged from behind the stone pillar, his Glock spitting fire nonstop.
The pews, already battered by explosions, shattered under the impacts. Smoke, splinters, and dust filled the air, thickening until visibility dropped to almost nothing.
The body on the ground moved fast, driven by pure survival… but not fast enough.
Two bursts of blood erupted almost simultaneously, and the man let out a roar of rage and pain.
Barely, he managed to reach the shotgun slung across his back and fired toward the source of the shots.
The pew next to Ethan exploded into splinters.
Before he could fire again, a figure burst through the smoke.
Nola.
A spinning kick smashed into the weapon, sending it flying.
Taking advantage of the man's injuries, Nola lunged at him and brought both hands to his lower back.
A cold flash appeared.
Two curved blades, like eagle talons.
—Swish. Swish. Swish.
Blood sprayed.
The man's neck was destroyed.
Nola rolled aside and picked up the fallen shotgun, looking down at the body with disdain.
—Another assassin? —She asked, a knot in her stomach.
—Looks like it, —Ethan replied as he searched him.
In the man's clothing, he found oval aluminum tags. In the center, etched in black, stood the symbol of a bat.
Ethan held them for a moment, then looked up.
—Russian military intelligence.
Ethan frowned, remembering the metallic taste of the coffee.
Nola looked at his stomach.
—You think someone…? —she began quietly.
—Someone removed the tracker and slipped it into my coffee to use me as bait, —Ethan finished. His eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of rage and clarity—
Nola let out a short, humorless laugh.
—Clever, —she said—. Or very brave… and very, very stupid for choosing you.
Ethan clenched his fist hard. His knuckles cracked.
He remembered the metallic taste, the instant when something hadn't felt right, the sensation of being watched without knowing it.
He looked up, jaw tight.
In his mind, there was only one certainty.
The son of a bitch who dragged him into this… was going to pay.