Isabelle’s eyes widened slightly as she felt the subtle shifts in the air, a sign of movement approaching their location. Her hand shot up, fingers splayed, signaling the group to go silent. Even Elijah, usually the first to argue, immediately shut his mouth and straightened in his seat, knowing better than to ignore Isabelle’s warnings. The tension in the room grew.

  With practiced ease, they all moved into action, slipping out of the room and into the dimly lit corridors. Their boots made barely a sound on the old, creaking floorboards. They dispersed quickly, each heading toward their designated position, their faces set in grim determination.

  The four buildings surrounded a large, open square in the middle, forming an ideal spot for an ambush. Each member knew exactly where to go; they had planned this scenario meticulously in case of an intrusion.

  Isabelle moved with a feline grace, slipping into the shadows of an old apartment building. From her vantage point on the second floor, she had a perfect view of the entire square below. Her breathing slowed as she calmed herself, and she focused her sensory ability on picking up every detail around her.

  Elijah took up his position on the rooftop of a decrepit brick building across from Isabelle’s perch. He crouched low behind a rusted air vent, his large frame hidden in the darkness. He flexed his fingers, feeling the familiar weight of his heavy pistol tucked into his jacket. Despite his complaints, he was alert and ready.

  The stern man, who everyone called Bishop, slipped into an old office building. He positioned himself by a broken window on the third floor, where he had a clear line of sight to the square.

  The woman, Layla, climbed into the rafters of a rundown warehouse on the fourth corner of the square. She had no weapons in her hands, but her eyes were sharp and alert, scanning the area for the slightest hint of movement.

  The square was quiet now, except for the faint rustling of leaves blown by the wind. The only light came from the distant streetlamps, casting long, wavering shadows across the cracked pavement.

  Isabelle’s heart pounded as she sensed the intruders drawing closer. She knew they were skilled, their steps careful and controlled, but nothing escaped her heightened awareness. She didn’t know if it was one or multiple, but the fact they were this close meant they were either confident—or reckless.

  ***

  Flint led the trio cautiously into the square, the large open space surrounded by four aging buildings. The worn brick walls and dark windows gave off an ominous air, the type of place where ambushes were just waiting to happen. The faint echo of their footsteps bounced off the crumbling facades, adding to the tension that lingered in the cool air.

  “This is the last area,” Vera whispered, her voice sharp with warning. “Be alert.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Flint muttered, brushing off her concern with a wave of his hand, but his eyes still darted from shadow to shadow, scanning for any signs of movement.

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  433, trailing slightly behind, was more vigilant. He had been taught to trust his instincts in situations like these, and right now, every sense was on high alert. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there were eyes on them, watching their every move. He surveyed the darkened windows and open rooftops, places where he had been trained to look for snipers or ambushers. His gut told him that the enemy wasn’t far, and he felt the prickling sensation of being observed.

  The square was eerily quiet except for the faint whistle of the wind, and that silence made the place feel even more threatening. 433’s gaze darted to the four buildings surrounding them. Each was in varying states of disrepair, with broken windows, chipped paint, and dangerously sagging balconies. They were perfect hiding places for anyone waiting to spring an attack.

  Vera moved up beside Flint, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the open square. “You sense anything?” she asked 433, her voice a low murmur meant only for their group.

  433 didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something about the air, an uneasiness that crept up his spine. He scanned the windows again, half-expecting to catch a flash of movement, but there was nothing—only the feeling of being watched.

  “Not sure,” he finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “But we’re exposed here. Too many vantage points.”

  Vera nodded, understanding the implication. Her hand shifted slightly toward her weapon, ready to react at a moment’s notice. Flint looked back at them, a hint of impatience on his face. “You guys are paranoid,” he muttered, but he still adjusted his stance, taking the threat more seriously than his words suggested.

  BANG.

  A gunshot echoed through the square, coming from the bottom left building. Flint’s instincts kicked in, and with a quick motion, he summoned a solid wall of rock from the ground, blocking the bullet before it could reach any of them.

  “Ambush!” Vera shouted, her eyes darting to the source of the gunfire.

  Before they could fully assess the situation, three figures leaped from different buildings, each moving with the practiced ease of a trained assassin. The only building not releasing anyone was the one from which the gunshot originated, making it clear that a sniper or marksman remained inside.

  “433, take left!” Vera commanded, already charging at one of the descending figures. Flint focused on the figure to the right, while 433 set his eyes on the one closing in from the left.

  In the tense moments that followed, the square transformed into a battleground. Vera and her opponent clashed in the air, both spinning and delivering blows as they met mid-leap. Flint faced a tall, muscular attacker who came down hard with a kick, which Flint parried by raising a thick slab of earth. The force sent dust flying everywhere, obscuring the battlefield momentarily.

  433 didn’t waste time. He sidestepped the attacker’s attempted strike, using his superior speed to maneuver behind them. With one swift motion, he grabbed the attacker by the back of their neck and threw them to the ground. He aimed to finish the fight quickly and decisively, delivering a crushing kick that left his opponent gasping for air.

  Meanwhile, Vera’s opponent unleashed a flurry of strikes, but Vera dodged and countered with calculated precision. She landed a fierce punch to her attacker’s ribs, the impact cracking bones audibly. Flint, too, was relentless, manipulating the ground to disrupt his opponent’s balance and slamming them into a nearby wall.

  As the dust settled and the chaos calmed, all three of the ambushers were incapacitated. The square was littered with the aftermath of their clash, but the fight wasn’t over.

  “The sniper,” 433 muttered, his eyes shifting to the building where the gunshot had come from.

  BANG.

  The gunshot tore through the air, and Flint’s eyes widened in horror. He couldn’t react in time, and Vera was still occupied, ensuring her opponent was truly down. All that was left was 433, standing directly in the bullet’s path.

  “433!” Flint’s voice was desperate, a raw warning that came a second too late.

  The bullet struck 433 squarely in the forehead. There was no time for him to react, no last-second save. The impact sent his head snapping back as the bullet pierced through, leaving a small, clean exit wound. For a moment, everything seemed to slow down. The air felt heavy, the world dimmed, and silence swallowed the echoes of the gunshot.

  433 staggered, his eyes still wide open, shock frozen on his face. And then, as if time suddenly resumed its cruel march forward, his legs gave out beneath him. He crumpled to the ground.

  “NO!” Flint’s scream shattered the silence, but there was no reply, no second chance to fix what had just happened.

  Vera’s eyes shot up from her incapacitated target, immediately recognizing the loss. Her expression hardened, grief buried beneath a fury that seethed. Flint, still shaking, turned his attention back toward the building where the gunshot had originated, his jaw clenched, his fists trembling.