The night air was heavy with tension as Ethan stood across from Oliver, still trying to process the events of the last few minutes. The alley was quiet now, the sound of the earlier scuffle fading into the background. Ethan narrowed his sharp green eyes, assessing the man who had just saved him. There was something about Oliver—something calm yet commanding. But Ethan wasn't about to let his guard down just yet.
"Who are you?" Ethan repeated, his voice low, still on edge from the fight.
Oliver adjusted his jacket, a measured calm in his movements. "I'm a former government agent," he began, his tone firm but not boastful. "Retired, if that means anything anymore."
Ethan's expression hardened, skepticism creeping into his eyes. "And why is a former government agent here in this alley, rescuing me?"
Oliver exhaled, leaning back against the wall, hands in his pockets. "I need someone with your skill set. Someone who can see the angles before they're even there. A strategist. I've got a job lined up—something big. And I think you'll want in."
Ethan's brow furrowed as he crossed his arms. "You need a strategist for what exactly?"
Oliver met his gaze, unwavering. "I'm putting together a team. We're hitting a bank."
Ethan's entire demeanor shifted at the word "bank." His face darkened, and he took a step back, shaking his head. "No. I'm not interested in robbing a bank. That's where you lose me."
Without another word, Ethan turned to leave, but Oliver remained calm. "Six months."
Ethan froze. He slowly turned, confusion and a hint of anger crossing his face. "What did you just say?"
"Six months," Oliver repeated, his voice steady. "That's how long you have left to clear your debt."
Ethan's eyes widened. His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands clenched into fists as he took a threatening step toward Oliver. "How the hell do you know about that?"
Oliver didn't flinch. He remained rooted, unfazed by the rising anger in Ethan's eyes. "It wasn't easy to find, but I make it a point to know who I'm dealing with."
Ethan's face twisted in rage. "You have no right!" He lunged at Oliver, his movements fast and precise. But Oliver was ready. With a swift, practiced motion, he caught Ethan's arm mid-strike and twisted it behind his back, locking him in place effortlessly. Ethan gritted his teeth, struggling against Oliver's iron grip, but it was useless. The older man's strength was surprising, his movements so fluid that it was clear he had been in situations like this countless times.
"I'm not your enemy, Ethan," Oliver said evenly, loosening his hold slightly. "But if you keep attacking me, this is going to get uncomfortable fast."
Ethan stilled, his breath heavy with frustration as the realization of Oliver's skill sank in. He wasn't just some washed-up ex-agent—he was still dangerous, still sharp.
Slowly, Oliver released Ethan, stepping back to give him space. Ethan shook out his arm, the anger still simmering, but now there was a layer of shock and begrudging respect underneath.
"How do you know about my situation?" Ethan asked, his voice quieter now, more controlled. "What else do you know about me? About my family?"
Oliver took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't dig too deep. I know you're a good man, Ethan. You've been providing for your family. But I also know about the underground casino that's been bleeding you dry for years."
Ethan's fists tightened, his mind flashing back to the casino—the place where he'd made one bad decision after another, each one compounding the debt that now suffocated him. It had started as a simple thrill, a way to unwind after long nights working on assignments. But as the losses mounted, so did the debt, until the casino owned him. They had kept it quiet, but the clock was ticking. He only had six months to pay them off, or things would get ugly.
"You don't know the half of it," Ethan muttered, his voice laced with bitterness. "I've been trying to claw my way out of that hole for years."
Oliver nodded. "That's why I'm here. The money from this job—it's more than enough to cover your debt. More than enough to set your family up for life."
Ethan's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing again. "How much money are we talking about?"
Oliver gave a small, knowing smile, his eyes locking with Ethan's. "A lot."
For a moment, there was only silence between them. Ethan's mind raced, weighing the risks, the desperation, and the opportunity standing right in front of him. He still didn't trust Oliver—not entirely. But the offer was too tempting to ignore. He had six months, and Oliver was offering him a way out. Maybe the only way out.
But something still didn't sit right with him. Robbing a bank? It went against everything he stood for. Yet, for the first time in years, a sliver of hope flickered within him. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to finally be free.
Ethan took a deep breath, his anger subsiding as the reality of his situation settled in. "This better be worth it," he muttered.
Oliver's smile didn't waver. "It will be."