CHAPTER 11 （Same old scars）
TRISHA
The ropes dug into my wrists as I struggled against the restraints.
Max’s goons had tied me up tightly, leaving no room for escape.
A grimy rag filled my mouth, muffling any cries for help.
Worse, blood trickled down my right arm, where they had cut me open to remove the tracking chip embedded under my skin.
Without that chip, how would my team at GLEN ever find me?
This solo mission to take down the notorious drug kingpin Ron and his brother Max was rapidly dooming.
The plan had been to infiltrate their operation, gather Ron’s hideout details, and coordinate an extraction, with full backup from headquarters.
Instead, I’d been captured and stripped of my communication lifeline.
My heart pounded as Max’s men hauled me outside and shoved me into the backseat of a waiting sedan. I landed with a grunt, twisting to avoid smashing my face against the door panel. One of the thugs slammed the door shut, bathing the interior in darkness.
The engine rumbled to life as Max climbed into the front passenger seat. He twisted around, a cruel smile stretching across his scarred face.
“Your death wish is gonna be fulfilled soon, woman.”
A jolt of fear lanced through me. I jerked against the rope bindings in a futile attempt to loosen them. Max’s raspy laugh echoed around me, mocking my efforts.
Taking me to Ron meant they intended to interrogate me first before the inevitable execution. My only hope was to withstand whatever torture they had planned long enough for my team to somehow track me down and launch a rescue. The prospect seemed impossible now that my locator chip was gone.
Our mission parameters were clear—we needed Ron alive to extract details about the higher tiers of this massive drug smuggling operation.
As the cartel’s kingpin, Ron held the key to the entire criminal hierarchy that had gone unchecked for decades.
My secondary objective was simple: take out Max by any means necessary.
But the most daunting reality was surviving long enough to even attempt either of those goals now that I was at their mercy.
Without backup, the odds of walking out of Ron’s den were negligible at best, even if I miraculously managed to eliminate Max’s men and their boss.
Max handed over the location details on his iPad to the driver, commanding him to take us there.
To Ron’s hideout! An icy knot clenched my gut as the car accelerated away.
I strained against my bonds again, refusing to surrender despite the overwhelming odds. My mind raced, calculating every potential scenario, and analysing escape routes that no longer existed without my team’s support.
The trunk shifted as we rounded a corner, the distinctive clinking of weapons accompanying the motion.
I could tell there was extra ammunition in the trunk from the clinking.
My jaw tightened behind the gag, every ounce of my training fortifying my resolve.
I would not go down without a fight, no matter how hopeless the situation seemed.
The car rolled to a stop, the abrupt halt jostling me against the door panel. I tensed, expecting Max’s thugs to haul me out and into Ron’s stronghold—my odds of survival dipping with every passing second.
Instead, it was the driver who flung open the door, harsh sunlight invading the dim interior. I squinted against the glare as he reached in and grabbed my arm, yanking me from the backseat. Instinctively, I began thrashing, determined to resist even as the ropes bit into my wrists.
That’s when I felt something small and hard being pressed into my bound hands.
I froze, fingers curling around the object as the driver leaned in close. His jaw was obscured by a mask, but the gruff whisper was unmistakable.
“Got your back...”
Ayaan Shergill?
Relief washed over me, followed swiftly by elation. Our comms might have been blocked, but the director of GLEN had somehow managed to infiltrate the operation to provide backup. He must have neutralised Max’s original driver and taken his place to get this close without arousing suspicion.
As the other henchmen piled out, gloating over having captured me, Ayaan slipped back. They didn’t pay him any heed. To them, he was just the hired driver, expected to hang back while they delivered their prize to Ron. My mouth twitched into a smile behind the gag. If they only knew the truth...
“Let’s take her inside,” Max growled, grabbing my arm in a vice-like grip.
The rest of his men followed suit. I allowed myself to be dragged away, knowing that Ayaan was watching over me from the shadows.
There were no windows, just a single weathered door to this building—the perfect secret hideout for Ron.
I made a show of struggling, keeping up appearances for our audience even as my fingers deftly worked the object Ayaan had slipped into my hands.
A pocket knife. He’d given me a weapon. I nearly sobbed with gratitude.
And I trusted Ayaan to have a backup plan.
The man worked entirely on instinct. By now, he’d have contingencies mapped out, and exit strategies ready.
All I had to do was take out the immediate threat while he covered our withdrawal.
Ayaan might have also informed Krish and our team of our present location.
In minutes, they would be here to tackle the men and take them down one by one.
The mere thought of some action kicked my adrenaline.
The plan started coming together in my mind even as Max shoved me toward the entrance, sneering all the while. Let the bastards think they’d won—it would make their defeat all the more embarrassing.
Once I had my eyes on our target, Ron, the kingpin of this drug cartel we’d been chasing all long, I would cut myself free and spring into action. I had one objective: eliminate Max’s men and subdue Ron so Ayaan could back me up until our extraction team reached here and secured this area.
Max’s grip tightened around my arm as he hauled me into the dimly lit main hall of the hideout. I stumbled along, playing the part of the captured prisoner even as my senses remained on high alert.
More of Ron’s henchmen lined the walls, their grips tightening on their weapons as we entered.
I made a silent tally—just fourteen, no, fifteen armed muscle heads providing security for their elusive kingpin?
If it came to a fight, Ayaan and I would have our hands full, but nothing we couldn’t handle.
Now if only the man himself would make an appearance...
As if on cue, a side door creaked open, and a hulk-like silhouette emerged from the shadows. Broad shoulders filled the frame; more solid muscle than I’d anticipated. It was Ron—the elusive target we had pursued through photos but had never met face-to-face.
He stepped fully into the main room, the overhead lights letting me see him clearly.
An ugly scar cut across his cheek and jawline—a reminder of a life of violence, no doubt.
He wore it like a badge of honour, his expression twisted into a sneer of disdain.
This was a man who delighted in intimidating others through brute force.
My jaw clenched as Max released me, striding over to greet his brother with a jovial air.
“Brother!” The two men embraced with exaggerated back slaps.
Ron’s cold stare remained locked on me over Max’s shoulder, though.
“Look what I have for you,” Max beamed, finally breaking away to gesture grandly in my direction.
The drug lord’s face contorted with a mix of disgust and contempt.
“How can you be such a fool, Max? How could you be fooled by this woman all this time? It’s written all over her face that she’s a spy. How could you not notice?”
My heart skipped a beat at the acknowledgement. He was definitely smarter than Max. I prepared for the punishment that was surely coming, shifting my weight into a defensive stance.
Max hung his head, clearly displeased by the rebuke in front of his men.
“It’s because of you we’ve lost Marco and a valuable insider like Daniel, who kept us informed on GLEN’s progress.”
Ron levelled an accusatory finger at me. Silence hung thick in the air as all eyes swivelled toward their boss as glared at me furiously. With two long strides, Ron closed the distance between us until I could smell the cheap whiskey souring his breath.
“I’ll enjoy cutting you into pieces myself,” Ron hissed through clenched teeth, “before packing them off to your headquarters as a lesson for the other agents to know what happens when someone messes with me.”
Revulsion churned in my gut at his words, but I refused to show fear. I couldn’t give him that satisfaction. Instead, I mustered my courage and met Ron’s hateful glare with a taunting grin.
The reaction clearly wasn’t what he’d expected. Surprise flashed across his features before the sneer resettled into place.
“I’m not joking, lady.” He grabbed my chin in a vice-like grip, forcing my face even closer to his. “What the hell are you smiling for?”
“I’m smiling because I know what’s about to happen in the next few seconds,” I replied, unable to resist goading him further.
Ron blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. His confusion provided the critical opening I needed. With a swift motion, I planted my foot and wrenched out of his grasp, driving my knee up towards his gut.
He grunted in pain, instinctively hunching over to protect his midsection.
I used the blade Ayaan had slipped me, slicing cleanly through the ropes around my wrists.
Before Ron could recover, Max lunged at me.
In one fluid motion, I whirled and slit his throat.
Ron stared at me in horror as Max’s body fell on the ground next to me.
“Max…” Ron’s scream echoed in the room, a howl of anguish that drowned out the clatter of guns as his men scrambled to react.
I didn’t wait for Max’s crew to start firing at me.
Dropping into a crouching position, I spun, kicked and sliced the throat of another one of Max’s men.
And that’s when the sound of a gunshot firing from behind me echoed around.
Ayaan was inside. He probably must have taken the guns and ammunition from the trunk of the same car we all came in from, the clinking sounds of those weapons I’d heard while driving to this place.
Finding cover, I caught the flying gun which Ayaan threw in my direction to get into action.
Survival instincts honed through years of training took over, my body moving of its own accord. I ducked and weaved through the hail of gunfire, firing back. I fought back a grin as one of Ron’s men crumpled, neutralised by Ayaan’s precise shot.
No time to celebrate, not with the rest of the security rapidly regaining their focus. I seized another discarded pistol from the floor and opened fire, eliminating another two hostiles.
Diving into a sheltered nook, I risked a glance around the edge and spotted Ron crouched behind a structural pillar, his men forming a protective umbrella around their leader.
A distant whirring sound reached my ears—unmistakably that was the approaching helicopter. My heart plummeted into my stomach. Ron had called for air evacuation, and judging from the sound, it was already inbound.
The mission parameters scrolled through my mind. As a top priority, we needed Ron alive. That meant I had to take him into custody before that chopper touched down.
“Ayaan!” I shouted over the gunfire. “I’m going after Ron. Cover me.”
An acknowledging nod was all he gave in between his firing.
Grabbing a sidearm, I vaulted over the table and opened fire around the pillar at the men surrounding Ron.
But my bullets were soon over than I thought.
Throwing the gun, I rushed at Ron’s men and knocked down one of them with a vicious kick before whirling to engage the other in hand-to-hand combat.
Muscle fight was my thing, and I loved it more than using the weapons.
But for now, I didn’t want to let Ron get away.
While I kicked and punched his men, Ron made a dash for the landing chopper.
No way was I letting this scumbag slip through my fingers.
Taking down his men, I chased after Ron outside, without any weapon. But before I could reach him, he spun around, his arm snaking around my neck as he pressed his gun to my forehead. Panic surged through me, but I refused to let fear paralyse me.
Ayaan followed me out, but the moment he saw Ron pointing his gun at me, he froze on the spot, rifle levelled but unable to risk a shot with me as a human shield.
Our eyes met, and I saw the silent communication pass between us.
He wanted me to trust him, to believe that he had a plan to get us out of this.
“Back off,” Ron barked at Ayaan, pressing the gun harder to my head. “Unless you want to be scraping up what’s left of your agent.”
My lungs burned, my vision hazing as the pressure on my throat intensified.
I choked in his iron grip, seeing spots dance before my eyes.
If Ayaan fired, he might be able to incapacitate Ron before the brute could put a bullet in me.
It was my only chance, no matter how slim.
.. But we wanted Ron alive. We can’t shoot him.
Ron seemed to know exactly what I was thinking.
“Toss your piece over and let’s be reasonable,” he screamed again at Ayaan, dragging me backwards toward the chopper’s lowered ramp.
Ayaan hesitated just a fraction too long.
With a malicious chuckle, Ron pressed the hot barrel of the gun against my temple, daring Ayaan to make a move.
Maybe if Ron took me along with him in the chopper, we wouldn’t lose him yet.
I could still have a plan to tackle this.
Was that why Ayaan dropped his gun? Probably that was his plan too.
But before we could act, a sharp crack split the air from behind me, and Ron’s death-like grip on my neck loosened as he shoved me aside.
I crashed to the ground, the impact sending a sharp pain through my head.
What happened? My vision blurred as the world started spinning into darkness.
All I could see was Ron’s body collapsing mere feet away from me.
He was shot dead. No, No, No! We needed him alive.
I blinked once, twice, struggling to make sense of the chaos around me. Who shot Ron? It wasn’t Ayaan, for sure. Nothing registered beyond a dull, throbbing pain lancing through my skull, and then the darkness claimed me, and I knew no more.