Not far from the abandoned factory.
Atop a high-rise building, the Hallstatt Tribe assassins had their sights fixed on the chaos below.
They saw Alex Cross and the Sisterhood assassins making their retreat down the building.
Immediately, several of them turned toward Lena, waiting for her command.
But she remained silent — frozen in thought.
Finally, one of the men couldn't stand it anymore.
"Lena! What do we do now? They're falling back—should we engage or pull out?"
He reached over and nudged her shoulder.
That snapped her back to reality.
Peering once more through her scope, Lena caught sight of Alex's group below.
Then she pulled out her phone and made the call — to the Town Chief.
At that moment, the old man had recovered a little.
An IV bag hung beside his couch as he lay half-reclined, his face pale and drawn.
The phone rang.
He snatched it up on the first buzz.
Before Lena could speak, his voice came through, raspy and impatient:
"It's been twenty-four hours. What's the situation with Alex Cross? Have you taken him down?"
Lena lifted the scope again, studying Alex's team carefully.
Then she turned to glance at the assassins beside her and replied steadily:
"I can't confirm Alex himself… but his people — John Wick, Anna, the Sisterhood — they all look completely worn out."
"They're still holed up in that building?"
"Yes, sir. But they're pulling out now. Looks like they're heading back to the Continental."
That was all Lena said.
She dared not go further.
After Daniel Paine's defection, she knew one wrong word could make the Chief suspicious again — and that, she could not afford.
Fortunately, she didn't need to worry.
The Town Chief didn't suspect her.
After a brief silence, he made his decision.
"Even if that bastard Cross still has stamina, he can't last much longer. Tell your squad to prepare an ambush. Pick the right moment—then strike."
"Yes, sir."
Lena ended the call.
Then she turned to the three assassins beside her.
"The Chief's orders are clear," she said coldly.
"No matter what it takes, we capture Alex Cross alive."
She bent down, grabbing a black weapons case from the floor.
Popping it open, she continued her instructions as she assembled the rifle inside.
"I'll stay here and give sniper support. You three head down—split the rest into three teams. Surround the building. Nobody gets out."
"Yes, ma'am!"
The men bolted for the stairs, their boots thudding down the concrete.
By the time they reached the ground, Lena had already finished assembling her weapon — a Mk14 EBR precision rifle.
She mounted it on the ledge.
Adjusted her scope.
Aimed.
Then she pulled out her phone again — and called Alex Cross.
Inside the abandoned building, Alex and his team had just reached the ground floor.
Before they could exit, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He pulled it out, checked the caller ID — Lena.
His eyes flicked toward Eve, then he answered.
"Mr. Cross," came Lena's voice, calm and firm, "the cooperation agreement is now in effect. Please… protect my sister."
A faint smile tugged at Alex's lips.
"Of course," he said softly. "Just like we agreed — we'll talk again when we meet back in town."
Then Lena's voice dropped a tone.
"In thirty seconds, three assault teams will hit your position — from the south window, west side door, and main entrance. Ten men each. Prepare to defend."
"Appreciate the heads-up," Alex replied politely.
Then, after a pause, he added:
"Oh, and do me a favor — move that sniper rifle of yours a little to the left. I'm not fond of having a gun pointed at me."
There was no reply.
Only the sound of faint rustling — then silence.
The line went dead.
Alex pocketed the phone and turned to his team.
"Anna — take four of the Sisters. Set up defense on the south side," he ordered.
"John — west door. You've got four with you."
As for Alex himself —
He took the main entrance.
He pressed against the wall beside the door, motionless.
Waiting.
Seconds later —
Tap… tap… tap.
Footsteps on the stone stairs.
A shadow appeared in the moonlight just outside the door.
The moment the man's heel lifted to step in—
Alex moved.
He crouched low — gun rising in one swift motion.
Bang! Bang!
Two shots — one to the chest, one through the jaw.
Before the body could even fall, Alex pivoted —
using it as cover — and unleashed another barrage.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three more shots ripped through the doorway, cutting down the men just behind.
He rose, kicked the corpse hard — sending it crashing out the door.
Two assassins outside, thinking their comrade was still alive, leaned in to pull him to safety.
Instead, what they got was lead.
Bang! Bang!
Left hand, right hand — two flawless headshots.
Then Alex was in motion again.
He burst through the doorway, closing the gap on the next nearest target.
One tribal assassin spotted him and fired—
Bang! Bang!
But Alex didn't fall.
In fact — he dodged.
Mid-sprint, his body twisted sharply to the left — the bullets whizzing past harmlessly.
The assassin froze in disbelief.
He tried to fire again—
Too late.
Alex was already on him.
One heavy kick, followed by a brutal shoulder throw — the man hit the ground hard.
Alex spun his gun in his left hand and fired two quick shots at the other two who came to assist.
Bang! Bang!
Both dropped instantly.
Then he turned back to the one on the floor.
Bang.
A clean headshot.
Without a backward glance, Alex Cross stepped past the bodies, moving toward the next wave.
The war wasn't over yet.
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