Finn's POV
The faint thud of boots echoed from above, muffled by the thick concrete that encased him. Finn crouched inside the cramped, suffocating tube, his back pressed against the cold, slimy surface. The stale air carried the acrid stench of decay and filth, the kind of smell that clung to your lungs and refused to let go.
Ahead of him, the narrow pipe opened into the bathroom drainage, where trickles of foul water pooled and disappeared into darkness. He kept his pistol aimed at the grating, his knife steady in his other hand just beneath it. The muscles in his arms burned from the tension, but he didn't dare relax.
Above, the footsteps continued—a deliberate rhythm of boots on tile. Finn could almost picture the guards pacing the bathroom floor, their weapons ready, their eyes scanning for any sign of an intruder. But they didn't know he was below, nestled in the belly of this filth-ridden labyrinth. Not yet.
A droplet of moisture clung to the edge of the pipe and plopped onto his shoulder, cold and thick. Finn shifted slightly, his movements calculated and silent. His breath was shallow, every inhale dragging the stench of sewage into his chest. The putrid smell was almost unbearable, like rotting food mixed with sour chemicals, but Finn's focus was razor-sharp.
The footsteps stopped directly overhead. Finn froze. His finger hovered over the trigger, his knife poised to strike if needed. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, mixing with the filth that clung to his skin.
The silence was deafening. Finn could hear the faint trickle of water dripping into the drainage pool just beyond the tube. His ears strained, waiting for the slightest shift, the faintest sound that might give him away.
If they check the grating, it's game over.
He adjusted his grip on the knife, the hilt slick against his gloved hand. In this confined space, there was no room for error. One wrong move, and the claustrophobic quiet would erupt into chaos.
The footsteps resumed, fading away as the guard moved farther across the room. Finn exhaled slowly, his body still coiled tight like a spring. He couldn't afford to make a sound, not until the danger passed.
Just a little longer. Then move
Finn shifted slightly away from the grate, careful not to let his injured thigh brush against the grimy sewage walls. The coat covering the wound was his only shield against infection, and he wasn't about to lose that advantage. The stench of rot and waste thickened in the air, threatening to turn his stomach.
Fuck this...
He adjusted his breathing, switching to shallow, controlled breaths through his mouth. The relief was marginal, but it was enough to keep his focus. Sliding his knife back into the pocket of his trousers, Finn's hands instinctively searched for something—his phone. He fumbled through every pocket, each one coming up empty.
Where is it?
Panic crept in, tugging at the edges of his mind. His usual calm dissolved as his heartbeat quickened, pounding louder than the faint footsteps above. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, screaming at him to act, even as frustration clouded his thoughts.
I can't stay here. I have to move.
Lowering his crouch further, Finn braced himself against the slimy surface of the pipe. His black shoes pressed carefully against the damp ground, each step measured and deliberate. The faint tap of his soles against the sludge-covered surface was barely audible, but it felt deafening to him. Finn moved like a shadow, each motion calculated, his injured thigh protesting with every agonizing shift forward.
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Kai and Julia's POV
Kai and Julia crouched low, moving forward with silent precision. Their bodies coiled, ready for any threat. Both held their pistols tightly, the knives positioned just below the barrels of their guns—silent and deadly. Their faces were focused, sharp, and unreadable, blending seamlessly with the shadowed winter night.
Kai's watch flickered, lighting up with a notification: Cassian Liechtenstein, 4:26, Call Time, Bluetooth to KAIEP—Earpieces.
Cassian's voice crackled in Kai's earpiece, low and serious. "Operatives are following your lead, Colonel."
Julia's sharp eyes scanned their surroundings, her grip tightening on her pistol. They came to a stop near a bush, her senses heightened as the weight of their mission settled over her.
Kai slipped his knife from beneath his coat, positioning it under his pistol's barrel, where it had been before. With a steady motion, he slid it into his trouser pocket before tapping his earpiece with his free hand, the action quick and efficient.
His voice came out low but firm, carrying the weight of authority. "Tell them to surround the warehouse, but remain hidden in the grass and bushes. We'll set up an ambush. Kill anyone who crosses our path. Use knives when necessary, but guns only if absolutely needed."
Once he finished speaking, Kai slid his knife back from his pocket, positioning it again beneath the barrel of his pistol, just as it had been before. The movement was smooth, the knife securely in place as he adjusted his grip on his weapon.
Cassian's voice came back through the earpiece, steady as ever. "Copy."
Kai's gaze shifted to the dark woods ahead, his eyes locking onto the scattered guards—men in black, armed with rifles. They were alert but spread thin, giving Kai and Julia the advantage. The warehouse was in sight, It's not as heavily guarded as it was before, because the guards are scattered throughout the woods.
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Hannah's POV
Hannah leaned against the car, the cold metal biting into her back as she stared out at the dark woods. She'd woken up to silence, the once lively hum of voices and footsteps now replaced by the eerie stillness of the road and the faint rustle of leaves.
Her chest tightened at the realization that Kai and the agents had left her behind. She knew it wasn't intentional—she'd fallen asleep during the waiting, exhausted from the earlier tension. And now, here she was, alone, with only the shadows of the woods for company.
Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her coat, tugging at the fabric as she tried to calm herself. Her eyes darted to the thick forest in front of her, the towering trees standing like silent sentinels. Every crack of a branch or distant rustle made her heart race.
Why didn't they wake me? She bit her lip, tears welling up in her eyes. She wasn't angry, just scared. Scared of the idea of stepping into those woods, of losing her way, of not knowing where to go.
Her fingers brushed the edge of her skirt, her movements restless. I could wait… Kai knows what he's doing. He'll come back. He always does. But the reassurance rang hollow against the rising tide of unease in her chest.
Hannah wiped at her eyes, shaking her head as she tried to steady her breathing. She hated feeling useless, stranded in the dark while they were out there, risking themselves. Her worry for Kai gnawed at her, but the woods were an intimidating maze, and the thought of venturing in alone made her stomach churn.
Her knees trembled slightly as she whispered to herself, "Stay calm… just wait. He'll be okay. He always is." But no matter how many times she repeated the words, the fear refused to let go. She clung to the car, her only anchor in the overwhelming uncertainty.
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Finn's POV
Finn's breathing was steady, despite the pounding in his chest. His pistol aimed unwaveringly ahead as he adjusted his grip on the knife below its barrel. The footsteps above echoed faintly, a reminder of how close danger loomed. His sharp gaze pierced through the dim sewage tunnel, each crouched step carefully measured. His injured thigh screamed in protest, but he pushed through the pain, his white t-shirt now stained with grime and the foul remnants of the drainage.
The darkness thickened the further he advanced. His free hand hovered near the knife, flipping it in his palm as he pressed the small button on its hilt. A faint beam of light pierced the shadows.
"Fuck," he muttered under his breath.
The beam swept across the slimy walls as he reached the junction. The tunnel split into another direction, darker than before. He edged closer, soles sliding slightly on the slick surface. His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened on the pistol, every nerve in his body coiled and ready to strike.
His flashlight caught the outline of a ladder bolted into the wall. Above it, a wooden hatch—dirty, covered in cobwebs—stood out against the filth of the tunnel. He tilted his head, assessing it.
"A hatch... in a sewage tunnel?" he murmured, his voice barely audible.
The sound of footsteps overhead broke his concentration. Finn froze, his heartbeat quickening as a voice followed.
"Find the one who shot our guards. This is unacceptable," a deep, commanding voice barked, its authority unmistakable.
Finn's lips pressed into a thin line, his mind racing. They're talking about me.
With a calm exhale, he shut off the flashlight and flipped the knife back to its edge. Darkness enveloped him again, sharpening his focus. Slowly, he positioned himself beneath the ladder, his ears attuned to the muffled voices and footsteps above.
The hatch was his escape, but every move needed to be calculated. If they were hunting him, it meant one thing: he was getting close to something they didn't want him to find.
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Kai and Julia's POV
Kai's movements were silent and precise, each step calculated as he crouched away from Julia, his grip firm on the pistol. The knife positioned below its barrel glinted faintly under the moonlight, poised for swift, lethal action. His sharp blue eyes scanned the surroundings, unwavering, his expression cold and unreadable.
Julia remained crouched behind the bush, her red hair partially obscuring her focused gaze. Her pistol and knife were steady in her hands, ready for any sudden attack. She shifted her position slightly, her attention split between the darkened woods and the warehouse looming ahead.
In the dim light, Kai crept through the tall grass, his black shoes soles brushing soundlessly against the frosted blades. His eyes locked onto a guard, standing tense and alert with a rifle aimed outward, scanning the woods. Kai's approach was swift but methodical, and as the guard turned his back, Kai struck.
He rose from his crouch in a blur, leaping at the man. His gloved hand clamped tightly over the guard's mouth, muffling any cry. With a single, brutal motion, the blade slashed across the man's throat. Blood sprayed out in a dark arc, the only sound a strangled groan, "Hahhh—" before it faded into silence.
Kai pressed the dying man's body against his own, guiding him to the ground with eerie control, ensuring not even a thud disturbed the night. The guard's rifle slipped from his grasp as his life drained away, his movements slowing until he stilled completely.
Julia watched from her position, her crimson gaze flicking toward Kai's merciless precision. She felt the same mix of admiration and unease she did when watching him kill—no hesitation, no emotion, just action. His ruthlessness was both terrifying and captivating.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Julia turned her focus back to the warehouse. The cold wind brushed past her as she crouched lower, her grip on her weapons tightening. With quiet steps, she began to move toward the structure, her breaths controlled, her mind steeling itself for whatever lay ahead.
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Finn's POV
Finn gripped the cold metal of the hatch handle, his injured thigh trembling with tension as he balanced precariously on the narrow ladder. The faint creak of his boots against the rungs echoed in the confined space, but his mind remained sharp. His knife was steady in his free hand, ready to strike, while his pistol rested securely in the waistband of his trousers.
His eyes locked onto the pale, dust-covered hatch above, the dim light from the sewage below giving it an almost ghostly glow. The muffled voices above grew louder, each word cutting through the thick silence like a blade.
"This type of blunder is unacceptable. Find the one who killed our guard," a man's voice commanded with authority.
"I'll ensure it, Sir," another replied, his tone subservient but determined.
Bad thing... I am here.
Finn's thoughts raced. The footsteps were dangerously close now, and he could hear the faint shuffle of boots on the floor above. He slid the knife back into his trouser pocket, his fingers slick with sweat despite the cold. Steeling himself, he reached for his pistol, adjusting his grip to steady his shaking hand.
With a sharp, silent breath, he pushed upward, cracking the hatch open. A flood of harsh light poured in, momentarily disorienting him as his eyes adjusted.
The room above was starkly lit, a sharp contrast to the dark, grimy sewage. Directly in front of him, a man sat at a desk piled high with papers and bags of drugs. His expression froze, eyes wide in shock. Standing nearby was another man, a guard in a sleek black uniform, gripping an assault rifle.
Finn didn't hesitate. He surged upward, his injured thigh screaming in agony as he forced his body through the hatch. His pistol rose, and his finger squeezed the trigger.
The gunshot rang out, deafening in the confined space. The guard's head snapped back as the bullet struck him cleanly in the forehead, blood and brain matter splattering across the wall behind him. His body dropped instantly, the rifle clattering uselessly to the floor.
The man at the desk sprang to his feet, panic etched across his face. Finn's piercing gaze locked onto him, but before he could adjust his aim, the man bolted for the door at the far end of the room.
"Stop!" Finn barked, his voice hoarse and urgent. He shifted to fire, but his injured thigh buckled under the strain. He stumbled, the pain radiating sharply through his leg, throwing off his aim.
The man wrenched open the door and disappeared through it, slamming it shut behind him.
"Shit!" Finn hissed through clenched teeth, pressing his hand briefly to his throbbing thigh. Blood stained his torn trousers, but he pushed the pain aside and climbed fully into the room.
The office reeked of corruption, the smell of drugs and sweat hanging heavy in the air. Papers were scattered across the desk, detailing shipments, payments, and locations Finn couldn't yet decipher. He glanced at the guard's lifeless body, the blood pooling around it a grim reminder of the stakes.
He staggered to the door the man had escaped through, his limp pronounced as he forced himself forward. Reaching it, he twisted the lock with trembling fingers, securing it to buy himself time.
Leaning against the door for a moment, he exhaled shakily, his mind racing. His hand drifted to his injured thigh, the damp warmth of blood making him grimace.
No time for rest. Gotta keep moving.
With a renewed resolve, Finn scanned the room, searching for anything he could use to his advantage.
A sharp knock on the office window startled Finn. He turned his head quickly, his pistol instinctively raised, only to see Julia crouched outside. Her sharp, serious expression was framed by the moonlight, her red hair slightly disheveled but her focus unbroken. Her hand gripped her pistol tightly, the barrel aimed downward but ready to lift in an instant.
Finn exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. His serious demeanor softened slightly, though his tone remained calm and measured. "How did you—" he began, moving toward the window with a pronounced limp.
He unlocked the latch with a faint click, and Julia pushed the window open with her free hand, her movements quick but controlled.
"We need to move," she said, her voice firm yet tinged with urgency. "The guards will track you here."
Finn nodded without hesitation, acknowledging her warning. Sliding his injured leg carefully over the windowsill, he grimaced as his black shoes hit the ground outside, barely making a sound. Julia reached out instinctively, her shoulder bracing against his weight as he stumbled slightly.
"Got you," she muttered, her voice steady as she adjusted her stance to support him.
"Thanks," Finn said quietly, shifting his grip to hold onto her shoulder for stability.
The two moved cautiously, their breaths shallow to avoid making noise. Julia's sharp eyes darted around their surroundings, scanning for movement in the shadows. Her pistol remained steady in her free hand, ready to aim and fire. Finn mirrored her movements as best he could, his own weapon held tightly despite the burning ache in his thigh.
Every step was deliberate, the soft soles of his black shoes pressing silently against the dirt as they moved. Julia's focus never wavered, her gaze darting between the woods and the looming warehouse nearby. She glanced at Finn, her voice low and commanding.
"Stay quiet. If we're spotted, I'll cover you. Just focus on walking."
Finn gave her a small nod, his jaw clenched against the pain. Together, they crept through the darkness, their figures blending into the shadows as they made their way toward safety.
The tension in the air thickened as the voice cut through the silence, its command hanging heavy between them.
"Freeze, you two," the man called out, his tone deep and commanding, the authority in his voice unmistakable.
Julia's heart skipped a beat, her grip tightening around her pistol as her body stiffened. She didn't want to turn around. The consequence of doing so was clear, and it terrified her.
"Too bad, you two... put your gun on the floor..." The man's voice again, colder now, more commanding. It struck a nerve with Julia, the sharpness of it cutting through her nerves.
Her eyes widened, her breath shallow as her body remained locked in place. Finn, however, was calm. Too calm.
She felt his hand on her back, a comforting pat that seemed out of place given the situation. Finn's soft, almost absent-minded tone reached her ears.
"That's the only way not to be killed."
He said it like a fact, and Julia felt a chill run through her. His words stilled her fear momentarily, but the sense of dread returned as she watched him lower his pistol, the cold metal tapping softly against the earth as he placed it on the floor.
Her eyes flicked back to the direction of the voice, her pulse racing. Her lips parted, a hint of protest on the tip of her tongue.
"B-but..." she began, her voice laced with desperation, wanting to argue, to resist.
But before she could finish, the voice interrupted again. "Come on, young lady, put the pistol down..." It was mocking, dripping with disdain, but there was a deadly seriousness to it as well.
Julia's grip tightened on her gun for a moment longer, her mind racing as the weight of the situation pressed down on her. She could feel the tension, her fingers trembling. There was no way out, not unless they did exactly what this man commanded.
She looked at Finn, his expression calm, too calm. He met her gaze, his eyes giving her a silent reassurance. The battle between fear and obedience raged inside her, but the stark reality of the situation hit her hard. There was no room for hesitation.
With a deep, shaky breath, Julia slowly lowered her pistol, the cold metal settling against the earth with a soft thud. Her eyes never left the shadowy figure behind them, waiting for whatever came next.