Vendetta

Webs of betrayal

I slammed the car door shut, the metallic click echoing in the silence that had descended upon Whitemore's mansion. I reversed the car slowly, watching as the mansion faded into the background. The thought of what we had just uncovered churned in my mind. Finally, after all these months, we had something solid against the Alchemist. Damien's revelations could be the break we needed—something to weaken Aurora della Rossa's iron grip. But even as I drove away, the nagging feeling gnawed at me. Edward's threats might have gotten us the information, but they could have also placed a target on our backs. The Alchemist was known for her ruthlessness; she wouldn't take kindly to betrayal, even if it was indirectly.

The uneasiness settled in my gut, and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. We had to act fast. Every second we wasted was a second closer to danger. I glanced at Edward, who was rubbing his temples as if trying to process everything that had just happened. But just as I was about to speak, a loud, deafening crash shattered my thoughts.

**Baaam!**

A truck rammed into our car from the side with such force that it flipped over, the world turning upside down in a matter of seconds. The impact slammed my head against the steering wheel, sending a sharp, burning pain through my skull. Blood streamed down from my forehead, blurring my vision, but I had no time to think about the pain.

"Edward!" I croaked, barely able to get the words out. He was blinking slowly, his eyes struggling to stay open. I saw his pupils dilate before his eyelids fluttered shut. He was out cold.

Panic surged through me, but years of training kicked in. I had to move, and I had to do it fast. I fumbled with the seatbelt, unbuckling it with shaking hands. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel reached my ears—heavy, deliberate steps. They were coming for us.

I kicked at the shattered window, breaking away the remaining glass with my boot, and scrambled out of the car. The cold night air hit me like a slap in the face, but it brought with it a sense of clarity. My fingers fumbled at my side, finding the cold, reassuring grip of my gun. I took cover behind a nearby wall, just in time.

**Boom!**

A gunshot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in the wall inches from my head. I peeked out, counting four men, all armed, all aiming at me. I cursed under my breath and returned fire, the recoil of the gun grounding me in the chaos.

One of the men tried to flank me, moving quickly along the side of the car. I anticipated his move, firing two shots in his direction. One hit his leg, sending him sprawling to the ground, his gun clattering away from him.

Another man took advantage of my distraction, rushing forward with a knife. I barely had time to react, but instinct took over. I sidestepped his lunge, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until I heard the sickening snap of bone. He howled in pain, but I silenced him with a quick, hard punch to the throat. He went down, gasping for air, and I kicked the knife away.

A third attacker was already firing at me. I ducked behind a parked car, the bullets smashing through the windows above my head. My heart pounded in my chest as I tried to calculate my next move. The fourth man was advancing on my position, taking slow, deliberate steps, a cruel smile on his face as he fired off another round.

I rolled out from behind the car, firing off two quick shots. One hit his shoulder, spinning him around, but the other went wide. Before he could recover, I rushed him, tackling him to the ground. We struggled, his hands grasping at my gun, but I slammed my elbow into his face, feeling the crunch of bone beneath the blow. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Breathing heavily, I turned to face the last man, the one with the gun. He had a moment of hesitation, just long enough for me to take aim. My shot was clean, hitting him square in the chest. He fell back, his body crumpling into the dirt.