Chapter One Hundred
Havoc
The shot slams past my shoulder.
Close.
Too close.
Concrete explodes behind me.
I don’t stop.
I push forward.
Because distance is his advantage.
And I’m done giving him any.
He moves fast.
Better than the others.
Cleaner.
More controlled.
Military.
Which means—
He’s not just running this.
He was this.
We fire again.
Both of us.
Tight corridor.
No room for error.
My round hits—
Clips his side.
He grunts.
But doesn’t go down.
Of course, he doesn’t.
Men like him?
They don’t fall easy.
He drops his weapon.
Reaches instead—
Knife.
Of course.
Close quarters.
Smart.
I holster mine.
Step in.
Because this?
This ends up close anyway.
We collide hard.
Impact shakes through both of us.
He’s strong.
Fast.
Trained.
But so am I.
He swings—
I block—
Counter—
Drive him back into the wall.
Concrete cracks.
He grins.
Actually grins.
“Been a while since someone pushed back,” he says.
I don’t answer.
Don’t waste breath.
I go again.
Harder.
We trade blows.
Fists.
Elbows.
Controlled violence.
No wasted movement.
No hesitation.
“You don’t even know what this is,” he says, dodging, striking back.
I take the hit.
Ignore it.
“You move people,” I say.
“You sell them.”
“You destroy them.”
He laughs.
Sharp.
Cold.
“You think that’s all this is?”
Rage spikes.
But I keep it tight.
Always tight.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say.
“It does,” he fires back, slamming into me, driving me into the wall.
The air punches out of my lungs.
But I don’t go down.
“You shut this down,” he continues, breath controlled, eyes sharp, “you don’t stop anything.”
I shove him back.
Hard.
“You just create a vacuum.”
We circle.
Tight.
Deadly.
“Men like me?” he says. “We fill that vacuum.”
I shake my head once.
“No,” I say.
“Not anymore.”
He lunges.
Knife flashes—
I catch his wrist.
Twist.
Bone strains.
He fights it.
Strong.
Too strong.
“You think you’re the hero?” he growls.
“I think I’m the one ending you,” I reply.
He shifts—
Breaks the hold—
Drives the blade toward me—
I redirect—
Turn—
Drive him down—
Hard.
Knife skids across the floor.
Gone.
Now it’s just fists.
Raw.
Brutal.
Final.
“You don’t understand the people behind this,” he says, blood at his mouth now.
“Politicians. Agencies. Money that never stops moving—”
I hit him.
Hard.
“Then they’re next,” I say.
That stops him.
Just for a second.
Because I mean it.
Because he sees it.
Because he knows—
I won’t stop here.
“You think they’ll let you?” he says, breath rough now.
I lean in.
Close.
Let him hear it.
“Watch me.”
He swings again—
Slower now.
I block.
Counter.
Drive him down.
This time—
He doesn’t get back up.
Silence fills the tunnel.
Heavy.
Final.
Briggs rounds the corner.
Weapon up.
Sees it.
Sees him.
“Target down?” he asks.
I nod once.
“Yeah.”
The CIA agent steps in behind him.
Stops.
Takes it in.
Then looks at me.
Different now.
Less control.
More understanding.
“Is it over?” he asks.
I look down at the man on the ground.
The one who built this.
Ran this.
Destroyed lives without hesitation.
Then I look at the tunnels.
The system.
The damage.
“No,” I say.
“Not yet.”
Because this?
This was just the head.
And now we go after the rest.
I turn.
Start walking back through the tunnel.
Through the destruction.
Through what we just ended.
Toward daylight.
Toward the end of this war.
And toward her.
Because I made her a promise.
And I don’t break promises.
Not like that.
Not ever.