The Night Demon knew it clearly—
the very first assignment the High Table had handed him,
he had already botched.
That slip of a girl behind the pillar—
her strength was far more troublesome than expected.
Obviously,
the Camorra family had given him faulty intel.
"Useless bastards…"
he cursed inwardly.
But his decision was already made.
Whether for the Camorra family,
for the High Table,
or for making it easier to one day confront that man Alex—
for whatever reason,
he could not allow this woman, this Anna,
to walk out of here alive.
His eyes sharpened,
a predator's bloodlust flashing within.
No more restraint.
He twisted the suppressor from his pistol
and flung it to the right.
Clink—clink—clink!
The hollow sound of metal rolling across tiles rang out.
Instinctively, two of Alex's killers peeked their heads out to check.
And in that instant,
their skulls fell neatly into his sights.
Rolling left—
Bang! Bang!
Two sharp shots.
Each of them collapsed backward,
a neat hole drilled between their brows.
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
Anna seized the moment.
Two shots to the body, one to the head.
Two found their mark—
but the torso hits only bit through fabric,
the Kevlar weave of the Night Demon's tailored suit soaking the damage.
The headshot—
deflected, the corpse of a High Table gunman dragged into place as a shield.
Casually, he fired back twice,
forcing Anna deeper into cover.
Then, fluid as a predator rising from the brush,
the Night Demon rolled to a seated crouch,
pistol leveled,
and signaled the surrounding killers with a tilt of his chin—
flanking maneuver.
The shifting tide of battle
boxed Anna in from three sides.
Her gaze flicked over the bodies of her fallen comrades.
Her ears caught the converging footsteps closing in.
Stay passive,
and she'd be smothered.
Cornered.
Dead.
She wiped a smear of blood from her face.
Unscrewed her suppressor.
Slapped a fresh mag into her pistol.
Racked the slide—
clack!
Round chambered.
Anna inhaled sharply,
then hurled the suppressor high into the air.
Clang! Clang!
It struck the ceiling and bounced,
its echo filling the hall.
Two High Table gunmen, flanking her,
glanced up by reflex.
Even the Night Demon felt the urge—
but stopped himself,
forcing his men to keep focus.
And in that fleeting hesitation—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three rounds cracked from Anna's cover.
She didn't even check.
She kicked off the pillar, sliding three meters across the polished floor.
Two of her shots hit true.
Both High Table men collapsed,
rounds drilling their foreheads clean.
The Night Demon, reacting in sync,
hauled his suit jacket up to shield his head,
emptying a burst as Anna slid.
Bang-bang-bang!
Bullets sparked across the tiles in her wake.
Anna rolled,
then surged forward in a direct charge.
Gun up.
Bang! Bang!
But the Night Demon tilted his head just enough.
Both rounds hissed past.
His hand clamped her wrist,
pinning the weapon.
At the same time—
Bang! Bang!
His own pistol roared,
rounds screaming toward her face.
And still,
his grip wrenched her arm,
trying to rip the gun from her hand.
But Anna had anticipated this.
At the very moment he seized her wrist,
she snapped her head sideways—
and sank her teeth savagely into his arm.
Pain exploded through him.
The bullets went wide.
Her free hand flashed to her back.
Steel hissed.
A knife, swinging with the momentum of his own pull,
arced for his throat.
Shhhk!
A choice.
Between the searing pain of her bite
and a blade to the jugular,
the Night Demon chose the lesser wound.
He threw himself backward,
the knife grazing harmless air.
Agony flared up his wrist, white-hot.
Instinct screamed at him to release her.
But he held fast.
He knew.
The instant he let go—
she would pull the trigger.
So he ignored the pain,
raised his other hand,
finger tightening on the trigger—
Bang!
A round tore straight through the back of his hand.
The Night Demon jolted,
adrenaline spiking like fire in his veins.
With a roar,
he heaved,
and hurled Anna violently across the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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