Logar, Afghanistan;
Rakhatal, 15:30;
Rong Xinghe stood before the mirror, her fingers deftly adjusting the false beard once more. She stepped back, studying her reflection with cold precision. Her eyes drifted to the dagger and gun tucked securely into her holster, gleaming in the dim light. Satisfied, she reached for the black trench coat draped over the chair, slipping it on with practiced ease. Today was the day. Xanvoria's longest manhunt was reaching its end, and she was the hunter.
There would be no mistakes. Ahmed Ali Fadhil was either coming with her, or he wasn't leaving at all. Failure wasn't an option.
She'd either capture him or kill him on the spot—there was no in-between. But under no circumstances could she allow him to escape. Not again.
