The safe house was compromised. Billy needed a new location—one that wasn’t already crawling with enemies.

  Carrying Reinhardt wasn’t ideal, but leaving him behind wasn’t an option. He was the only lead Billy had.

  He moved through the backstreets, avoiding open roads. The city was still alive, with distant voices and flickering lanterns painting a false sense of security. But Billy knew better. Somewhere in the shadows, the people after him were already adjusting their plans.

  The assassins were professionals. They wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  Billy reached an abandoned warehouse near the industrial district. The building had once been a steel refinery, but it had been left to rot. Now, it served as his temporary hideout.

  He shoved the rusted doors open and stepped inside, dragging Reinhardt with him. The air smelled of oil and dust. Old machinery loomed in the darkness like forgotten giants.

  Billy dumped Reinhardt onto a metal chair and secured him with a length of industrial chain. Then, without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby bucket of stale water and threw it over the mercenary’s face.

  Reinhardt jerked awake, gasping, coughing. His eyes darted around, struggling to focus.

  Billy crouched in front of him, resting his forearm on his knee. "Rise and shine."

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  Reinhardt groaned, blinking away the water. Then, as awareness returned, he stiffened. His eyes locked onto Billy. “You…”

  Billy tilted his head. “Me.”

  Reinhardt tested his restraints and scowled. “You don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into, boy.”

  Billy’s fist shot out, striking him across the face. Reinhardt’s head snapped to the side, blood trickling from his lip.

  “I’m done with riddles,” Billy said coldly. “Who sent you?”

  Reinhardt spat blood. "Kill me if you want. But you’re already dead. You just don’t know it yet."

  Billy sighed and drew his chaos blade. The edge gleamed under the dim light.

  “You see this?” he said, pressing the cold metal against Reinhardt’s cheek. “This blade wants to kill you. It whispers about it. Tells me all the ways I could carve you up. I have to fight it, every second, just to let you live.”

  Reinhardt’s breathing hitched.

  Billy leaned closer. “Now tell me—who gave the order?”

  For the first time, hesitation flickered in Reinhardt’s eyes. He was scared.

  Billy pressed harder.

  Finally, the mercenary exhaled sharply. “You’re in over your head, Knight.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.”

  Reinhardt swallowed. His voice dropped to a whisper.

  “Darius Blackthorn.”

  Billy’s blood ran cold.

  The name struck like a hammer.

  Darius Blackthorn.

  A name spoken only in hushed tones. A name tied to the underworld, to the most ruthless power plays, to wars fought in the dark.

  If Blackthorn was involved… this wasn’t just a mercenary contract. This was something far, far worse.

  Billy stepped back, processing.

  Reinhardt smirked despite the blood on his face. “See? Now you get it. You were never the hunter, Knight. You were the prey.”

  Billy didn’t respond. His mind was already moving.

  Blackthorn had sent Reinhardt. Which meant he knew about Billy.

  And that meant Billy had a very small window before Blackthorn moved again.

  The real game had just begun.

  And Billy was running out of time.