Chapter 66
MWhile we were walking through what seemed to be a large basement, similar to mine, I took in my surroundings, and the prognosis is not good. Whoever designed this place made sure that nobody could escape.
There are many cameras, only two doors in this underground mania, and a couple of ugly lights. Enough to make the hallway light up with dread. I have to make sure to kill everyone in this place so I can escape.
When Emin and I arrive at a dark navy door, he opens it for me and motions for me to follow him. Once I step into the room, I’m greeted by four other men. All scattered across the corners of the room where I’m supposed to meet their master.
The room is large, industrial, and too bright, making every movement and every drop of blood visible. I’m now standing in the middle of the room with my bat in my right hand.
I look at Emin and ask him the million-dollar question. “Where is he?”
Leon doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t need to. A cough from the shadows sets my nerves on edge, and Lana’s father appears from the shadows. Now standing a couple of meters away from him, I analyze him.
This tough-looking motherfucker is a little bit shorter than I remember, but he looks fatal. His getup is similar to mine, with only one thing separating us.
This asshole is wearing a black mask that covers his entire face. The tension rises between us like somebody poured gasoline on an already burning fire.
“Did somebody cut your tongue?” I ask the bitch as I set down my bat on the table beside me. He only shakes his head lightly while holding on to his gun. I roll my shoulders once, loosening the tension.
Leon tilts his head. “Ready?” Fuck, it talks through the mask's altered voice.
I raise my gun. “Born ready.”
“Before we begin,” Leon starts. “Where is your father?” He is just trying to rile me up, and I’m not taking the bait. I point my gun toward him and give him a daring look.
We both take a deep breath, and without missing a beat, we start firing at each other.
The first shot splits the air, and I’m already moving.
His bullets tear past me—close enough to feel the heat and pressure—but not close enough to matter.
I return fire, not to hit him, but to push him, test his rhythm, map the way he shifts his weight.
He dodges every single bullet in a way like he is dancing, light on his feet.
Clean. Sharp. Too clean. But interesting, nonetheless.
He rolls behind a pillar. I slide left across the floor, keeping low, tracking the slightest flicker of movement.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” I call.
The mask distorts his laugh. “Likewise.” The amusement in his tone is all too familiar, which makes me disoriented.
No, not today.
We fire again—but our ammunition is gone. I grin because I can finally use the toys I have been dying to play with. Before I can react, the glint of a blade flashes right before my eyes. I swerve it and catch it by extending my arm really fast, and I throw it right back at him.
Leon dodges the knife, which gives me time to duck and slide across the floor. He starts throwing all his knives at me while I slide, and I miss all of them but one. One knife grazes my right leg, and the sharp sting of the shiny object makes me more aware.
More aware of my surroundings and more aware of this talented fucker here.
My feet slide under this asshole’s feet, and he tumbles down onto the floor.
I stand up, grab my last knife, and charge at him.
I kick him in his right knee, and he disregards what I did, probably because of the adrenaline, but I’m fast as well.
I’m now standing before him, and I slice his right arm.
Warm, beautiful, metallic blood is coating his navy compression shirt.
I look at him with a satisfied smile, and that one fades quickly.
The bastard grabs the knife with his left hand, and with the speed of lightning, he cuts not too deeply across my stomach.
The surprise attack and this man's agility make me lose focus for just one fucking millisecond.
My thirst for revenge and my loss of blood have started to make me a liability to myself.
But I keep on pushing.
I’m now standing where the asshole stood before.
“Getting tired?” I ask him as I look for my bat. Fuck. It’s on the table right beside him. He sees me looking for it and picks it up.
“Not even close.” He points toward me with the bat. “Where is your fucking father? I’m getting impatient, when I’m usually extremely patient.”
“I don’t know where he is. Lose the bat, come fight me as a motherfucking man.”
“Fine.” He drops the bat on the floor beside him. “M.” My name on Leon’s lips sounds like a dark omen.
“You are going to pay for what you did to Lana. I promise you that.”
“Don’t count on it. Are you ready to die? Because you just used up your last chance.”
“See you in Hell.” We start walking toward each other, and the only thing that you can hear in the room is the breathing of Leon’s soldiers.
The center of this room will determine my or this asshole’s fate.
We are going in circles, testing who will land the first punch. Then he stops me dead in my tracks.
“I’m not Leon. You killed him almost six years ago.”
Before I can muster up any response, the master hits me.
He throws the first punch—hard and fast, surprisingly fast. It connects with my jaw, and I can taste blood in my mouth. The second punch I block, redirect, and counter with a shot to his ribs. He takes it without a sound, but I feel the flinch.
Whoever this is, they are far more trained than anyone I have ever taught.
We circle each other like animals, and attack like animals. My fist connects with the right side of his face, while he punches me in the stomach, right where my fucking wound is. Our fistfight is brutal, bloody, and a mess. It also feels like we are dancing together.
Two trained killers.
Before I bleed out from my wound, I kick him in his left knee now and headbutt him.
He stumbles backward, yet he quickly regains steadfast composure.
He then lunges at me. I catch his arm, twist it behind his back, and slam him into the wall.
He kicks back, sweeping my legs—unexpected, like he knows my style too well.
We crash to the ground, and all hell breaks loose. This asshole is strong as he is pinning me down with his legs and putting immense pressure on my wound. That makes my vision slightly dizzy and causes a loss of focus.
Fuck.
He starts swinging, and I catch almost every punch. With whatever little strength I have, I block one punch by grabbing his arm, and I do what I need to do. I stare into the black mask, trying to read anything—but there is nothing.
“Who trained you?” I grunt. He shifts his weight, voice low and calm.
“Switzerland did,” the voice tells me.
No, no, no.
Sweat is dripping down my spine, and my muscles burn with the kind of fire you can only get when you are close to the truth. The master lifts his mask just enough so that his actual voice can come out. Or should I say, her voice.
“Don’t shoot him, he is mine. Mine to punish. Mine to finish.” A soft, strong feminine voice penetrates my mind, and I start breathing heavily.
“You weren’t honest, M, or should I call you…” She licks her lips as she takes a knife from the back of her waistband. “Noa?”
My real name. She used my real name.
She takes the knife and pushes it against my throat, drawing blood.
“You took away the only person who ever loved me.” The knife starts moving slightly, and I can’t even take a sharp intake of breath. I’m pushing my throat harder against the knife.
This is it, I’m going to die.
My body is starting to shut down, and my will to live is going with it.
“I only have one request before you die,” the woman says as she pushes herself forward onto my body. The sharp point of the knife is now starting to slice my neck. I look and… wait, what’s that?
“What?” I ask her.
“Hum for me.” This can’t be it. Please, let me be wrong.
“At least show me who you are,” I plead with her, and she obliges.
The woman grabs the mask and starts revealing herself. Every second of waiting is killing me. This woman is the most talented killer I have ever encountered, and I need to know who she is.
The mask is off.
All pretenses are gone.
And I’m at a loss for words.
I muster up the strength to do one more thing before I die.
“Lana?”
THE END.