Chapter 2 - Blood on the Mahogany
Viktor sneered, raising his rifle higher. "She's a dead woman, Adrian! You think your West Side crew can protect a federal ghost? Shoot him!"
Before Viktor's finger could tighten on the trigger, Nora moved.
She didn't wait for Adrian's guards to react. She snatched the heavy glass bourbon bottle from the bar shelf, shattered the bottom against the mahogany counter, and launched herself over the bar in a single fluid motion.
She landed directly on Viktor’s lead shooter, driving the jagged glass neck of the bottle deep into the soft tissue beneath his tactical helmet. The man screamed, his rifle discharging harmlessly into the ceiling, showering the crowd with plaster and sparks.
Nora grabbed the falling rifle before the man hit the floor, spun on her heel, and fired a three-round burst into the second shooter's chest.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
The suppressor attached to the barrel muffled the shots into quiet thuds. The second shooter collapsed backwards into a row of cocktail tables.
"Take cover!" Adrian shouted, his calm demeanor instantly shifting into ruthless authority. He pulled a sleek black SIG Sauer from beneath his charcoal jacket and fired twice, hitting the third shooter squarely in the forehead.
The remaining men in the club erupted into total chaos. Patrons slammed into walls trying to reach the emergency exits, while Adrian’s lieutenants pulled their weapons and returned fire against Viktor’s remaining men near the door.
Viktor scrambled backward toward the hallway, his face pale with shock as he watched his elite hit squad dismantled in less than eight seconds by a waitress in a cheap black apron.
Nora sprinted across the floor, her movement a blur of lethal efficiency. She cut off Viktor’s retreat near the storage corridor, slamming her shoulder into his chest and pinning him against the brick wall. She pressed the hot barrel of the captured rifle directly beneath his chin.
"Who sent you?" Nora growled, her dark eyes flashing with a terrifying, predatory intensity. "Who gave you the location of Blackridge Four?"
Viktor coughed, blood spitting from his lips, but he managed a sick, triumphant grin. "You think... you think you escaped, Hale? Command... Command is already in the city. The moment you fought Cole, your biological biometric signature triggered the grid. He knows you're alive."
"Who is Command?" Nora demanded, driving the rifle barrel harder into his throat.
"Your old handler..." Viktor wheezed. "Director Vance... he never died in D.C."
Nora froze. Vance. The man who had trained her. The man who had been like a father to her before he ordered the execution of her entire unit six years ago.
Before Viktor could say another word, a single high-caliber bullet shattered the high window above the corridor.
CRACK!
The round tore through Viktor’s skull, killing him instantly. His eyes went glassy, and his body slumped to the concrete floor.
A sniper.
"Down!" Adrian roared, tackling Nora from behind and dragging her down behind a heavy steel storage locker just as two more high-caliber rounds punched holes through the brick wall above their heads.
Nora pressed her back against the cold steel, her heart hammering against her ribs—not from fear of the sniper, but from the realization that her six years of hiding were officially over. The shadows had burned away.
Adrian knelt beside her, checking his magazine with practiced, steady hands. He looked down at her, taking in the blood spattered across her face and the military-grade precision with which she held her rifle.
"Director Vance, huh?" Adrian asked, his voice low and remarkably composed despite the sniper rounds chewing up the hallway outside. "Sounds like your ex-boss has a terrible personality."
Nora looked at him, her breathing ragged. "He’s not an ex-boss, Adrian. He’s a monster who erases entire cities to cover his tracks. You need to let me go. If you stay near me, he will wipe out you, your men, and everything you built on the West Side."
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Adrian looked at her for a long, quiet second. Then, a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.
"Nora," he said softly, reaching out to wipe a streak of dark blood from her cheek with his thumb. "I just promised three hundred people that I was going to marry you. I’d look pretty foolish if I let some government ghost break up the wedding before we even picked a cake."
