As the sharp sting of betrayal struck me, Anderson's blow hit hard, sending shockwaves through my head. The room spun, colors blurring and darkening until all that remained was the echo of Anderson's voice and the fleeting realization—he was the traitor, the one pulling strings from within. My body crumpled to the ground, consciousness slipping as my vision faded to black.
When I finally stirred, groggy and disoriented, I found myself shackled to a metal chair, a single dim light casting harsh shadows across the stark room. The familiar face of Miller came into view, his expression cold, detached, as he leaned against the wall, watching me with a twisted satisfaction.
"Welcome back, V," he said, voice dripping with condescension. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep through the whole revolution."
I tested my restraints, the rough metal biting into my wrists, but it was no use. I was bound tightly, every exit blocked, and every resource I had meticulously lined up over the years now felt out of reach. All I had were questions and the realization that the government facility—the place I had maneuvered to control—had fallen. The city was compromised. My ally Monroe, someone I'd counted on to maintain order, was left greatly injured.
"Did you really think you'd get away with it?" Miller continued, his smile tight, as if savoring the power shift. "You played your game well, but you were never the only one in it. Mercier had allies you never even considered."
"Like you?" I managed, my voice hoarse. "You were always close, Miller, but never close enough to see the whole picture."
"Close enough to see you fail," he sneered. "Anderson and I saw it coming. Mercier gave us a vision you could never offer, something bigger than your petty attempts at control."
Despite the pain and confinement, my mind began to race, pieces coming together even as I was forced to sit here helplessly. Anderson and Miller, working together from within—it made sense, given the sudden shifts, the betrayals I'd been trying to pinpoint. And now, with Monroe sidelined, Scarlett was out there somewhere, barely managing to escape this disaster with Lucy. I could only hope they had made it to my place and were regrouping, maybe even starting a plan to counter this.
As I thought about it, I pictured Scarlett and Lucy arriving at my place, likely wounded and wary, forced to break in without my help. The house would be unfamiliar, empty without my presence, but it would be shelter—a place where they could gather strength and resources. They had each other now, a reluctant partnership bound by survival. And maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to buy me some time.
Miller's gaze hardened, bringing me back to the present. "You're in no position to think you can win this," he hissed, catching a hint of defiance in my eyes. "Mercier's world has already begun. We're just here to watch yours crumble."
I looked up, suppressing a grim smile, focusing my thoughts on what mattered now: I still had cards left to play. Even here, bound and weakened, I wouldn't let them be the ones to call the final shots.
"You can chain me, Miller," I muttered, letting a note of defiance slip through, "but you'll never kill what I started."
He laughed, dismissive, but the resolve inside me only grew sharper. I would get out of this—and when I did, I'd make sure Mercier, Miller, and Anderson learned exactly what it meant to play my game.
They were toying with me, making a spectacle out of my capture. Miller and Mercier had gathered their henchmen around a makeshift ring, as if I were some animal thrown to the wolves. It was a sick display of power, a "competition" they called it—a test of how long I could endure before I broke. My only outfit was a pair of worn shorts, the cool air biting at my skin. Miller's voice carried through the crowd, a sinister note of amusement in his tone.
"Let's see how our golden boy holds up without his clever little plans or loyal teammates," he sneered. "Just bare hands and bare strength."
What they hadn't counted on, though, was that I had more than just a sharp mind. As I stepped into the ring, the crowd fell silent, and I could see their surprise flicker in their eyes. They'd thought I was nothing more than a wiry strategist, skinny and unthreatening. But the years of training, the countless hours honing myself for moments like this, had built me into something else entirely. Underestimating me was their first mistake.
The first attacker came at me—a towering brute with fists like hammers. I let him swing, then dodged, my body moving on instinct, slipping past him and striking his side. He stumbled, and I took him down in a series of calculated blows, moving from one to the next. Each opponent fell faster than the last, but the toll was beginning to add up. Cuts and bruises bloomed on my skin, muscles screamed in protest, and my vision blurred from the blood trickling down my face. But I kept going, every move fueled by a fierce refusal to submit to their twisted game.
It seemed like hours passed, though I knew it had only been minutes. But as the final minion dropped, his body collapsing into the dust, I saw the one thing I'd been dreading. Miller himself stepped forward, clapping slowly, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. And then Mercier joined him, his grin razor-sharp.
"This has been… entertaining," Miller said, smirking as he looked down at my battered form. "But even the best strategies have limits, don't they, V?"
I staggered, exhaustion weighing me down. Before I could react, two guards seized my arms, restraining me. They dragged me from the ring, leaving me to face what I knew was my inevitable captivity. My strength had taken me this far, but I was running out of options.
---
Back at my house, Lucy sat across from Scarlett in the dim light of the living room. Scarlett, still pale and weak from her own injuries, leaned back, struggling to keep her voice steady as she recounted everything that had happened since Mercier's trap. Lucy listened intently, her expression shifting from shock to anger as Scarlett explained the series of betrayals and the violent encounter that left her broken but alive.
"I had no idea it was this bad," Lucy whispered, her voice laced with a mix of fear and determination. "V... he always seemed so—untouchable. But now he's in their hands, isn't he?"
Scarlett nodded, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. "Anderson, Miller… they were all part of it. This wasn't just about taking V down—it was about dismantling everything he's worked for. Monroe's injured, the government's in chaos, and we're running out of allies. But V never gives up, Lucy. That's something you have to remember. He'll fight until his last breath."
Lucy looked down, her hands trembling. "I'll do whatever it takes to get him back," she said quietly, an uncharacteristic resolve hardening in her eyes. "They'll regret ever thinking they could break him."
Scarlett smiled faintly, recognizing the strength in her. "Then we've got a chance. For now, we regroup. We find allies, and we plan. V might be trapped, but he's not alone in this."
The days that followed were tense. Scarlett and Lucy worked together, piecing together what they knew about Mercier's network, hunting for weaknesses, and contacting anyone left in the government who hadn't yet been swayed by Miller's influence. But the network was crumbling faster than they could patch it up. With Monroe injured and Anderson Silva undermining them at every turn, they knew time was running out. Every hour V was held captive was another hour Mercier and Miller gained ground.
One night, Lucy stayed up late, sifting through old contacts and classified files that Scarlett had managed to smuggle out before her own capture. She was exhausted, running on little more than adrenaline and stubborn hope. Scarlett joined her, bringing two mugs of coffee, and they sat in silence for a moment before Scarlett spoke.
"You're tougher than I expected," she said, watching Lucy closely. "This… what you're doing. It's not easy. Especially since you've never been part of this world."
Lucy's gaze stayed fixed on the file she was reading, but she nodded. "V always protected me from it. He thought I was too—fragile, maybe. But now that he's… gone, I don't have a choice."
Scarlett studied her for a moment, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "For what it's worth, you're proving him wrong."
They worked together through the night, tracking down rumors, following leads, doing everything they could to pinpoint where Miller and Mercier might be holding V. Finally, just as dawn broke, Lucy found something.
"It's an offshore compound," she whispered, excitement lighting up her face as she showed Scarlett the information. "A private facility, unregistered. Rumor is it's where Mercier conducts his most… confidential business."
Scarlett leaned over, scanning the data. "If V's anywhere, it's there."
---
Meanwhile, deep within the facility, V sat alone in a dim cell, his arms chained to the wall, his body battered and bruised from days of relentless beatings. His mind felt like a battlefield, his thoughts slipping in and out of focus. But he knew he couldn't give in. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance to escape.
Mercier had visited him every day, taunting him, trying to break his resolve. Anderson Silva had even stopped by, making mocking remarks, basking in the twisted satisfaction of watching V, the man who had outsmarted him so many times, trapped and helpless. But the taunts only fueled his determination. He would find a way out. He had to.
On the third day, Miller entered, his smile cold and confident. "It's impressive how long you've lasted, V. Most would've cracked by now."
V met his gaze, forcing himself to smirk despite the pain. "Guess I'm not 'most people,' Miller. You'll figure that out soon enough."
Miller's eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. "Still cocky. Even now. But don't worry. We're going to make sure you don't have much left to be cocky about soon enough." He stepped closer, his voice lowering to a menacing whisper. "And by the time we're done, your friends will have forgotten you."
But that was Miller's mistake. Because V knew, deep down, that Scarlett and Lucy would never abandon him. And that hope—however small—was enough to keep him going.
---
Back at V's house, Scarlett and Lucy were making their final preparations. They'd managed to reach out to a handful of trusted allies, enough to give them a fighting chance. As they packed supplies and checked their weapons, Scarlett paused, looking over at Lucy.
"You don't have to do this, you know," Scarlett said. "This isn't your fight."
Lucy straightened, a determined look in her eyes. "V means everything to me. If there's even a chance we can get him back… I'll risk anything."
Scarlett nodded, a flicker of respect in her gaze. "Good. Then let's bring him home."
With the first light of dawn, they set out, their destination clear. They knew the risks, but neither would back down. For V, for themselves, for everything that had been taken—they were ready to face whatever Mercier and Miller had in store.