The Red Wolfs' base was dimly lit, tense, and silent. After the disappointing collection report, most of the gang was either grumbling or gearing up for their next raid.
But then—A sound outside.
A low murmur.A rhythmic marching.A presence.
Darian Wolfe, standing near the second-floor balcony of the base, narrowed his eyes.
"What the hell is that?"
Seconds later, alarms rang out. A scout sprinted inside, panicked.
"Boss! You need to see this!"
The gang rushed outside into the open yard of the compound.
And there they saw them.
Over 100 figures, standing in perfect silence — motionless like shadows under the broken floodlights.Each wore black tactical suits, black combat boots, and expressionless black masks.Each was unshakably muscular, their posture disciplined. And many of them held high-powered assault rifles—far more advanced than anything the Red Wolfs had access to.
The sight made even the most hardened gang members grip their knives tighter.
Darian stepped forward, his voice echoing across the silence.
"Who the hell are you?What do you want?!"
No reply.
The masked army didn't even flinch.
And then—without warning—they moved.
Like shadows with purpose, they surged forward, guns raised only to disarm, not kill. The real fight was hand-to-hand.
Despite being outnumbered, the black-clad operatives moved like monsters.
Their strikes were swift, precise, and merciless. Within moments, Red Wolf members were dropping like flies—disarmed, knocked out, immobilized.
It wasn't a fight.
It was a demonstration.
The Red Wolfs, over 150 strong, couldn't even hold ground against 100 of them.
One by one, they were unconscious, scattered across the compound like discarded toys.
But Darian Wolfe didn't fall so easily.
Fueled by rage, he grabbed an iron rod and crushed the skull of one attacker. Then another. Then a third. Even a fourth. Blood sprayed, and for a moment, it looked like he might actually turn the tide.
But exhaustion came quickly.
And their coordination… was terrifying.
Three of them surrounded him. One grabbed his wrist, another swept his legs, and the third slammed something cold against the back of his neck.
A hiss.
Knockout gas.
"Tch…" Darian muttered as the world around him began to spin.
And then everything went black.
Later That Night
The Red Wolfs' fallen members were collected, bound, and loaded into unmarked black vehicles—the same design used in Vayunesh's capture.
Each victim was fitted with the same protocol:
Blindfolds over the eyes
Black tape over the mouth
Noise-cancelling earphones
And a cold collar around the neck
All unconscious. All removed.
They weren't killed.They weren't tortured.They were being taken… somewhere.