BEHIND US

XVII

Sanctuary

The fire still crackled inside the northern safehouse. Outside, the snow-covered ground was littered with the silence of fallen enemies.

Engfa stood at the exit bay, the helicopter blades already whirring.

Charlotte held baby Claire close, her breath misting in the freezing air. Chris stood beside her, clutching a hard drive packed with evidence and the backup encryption for Project Omega. Behind him, Ethan—his eyes sharper than most grown men despite his youth—and Pailiu, still gripping her med kit tight, refusing to leave Snack’s side until the last minute.

“You sure about this?” Charlotte asked, voice soft.

Engfa didn’t answer right away. She looked at all of them—her blood, her heart, her reasons. Then she nodded.

“I have to end this. But I can’t do it unless I know you're all safe.”

Chris looked reluctant. “I should be with you.”

“You’re the only one who can decrypt the Omega kill-switch if something happens to me. You and Pailiu protect the little ones. That’s your mission now.”

Claire babbled softly as if sensing the tension. Charlotte leaned in and kissed Engfa, slow and fierce. “You come back to us.”

“I always do.”

Snack pulled Pailiu into one last hug. “You watch over Claire, alright? And don’t let Ethan hack into the wrong satellites again.”

“Only if he stops trying to launch missiles from your tablet,” Pailiu smirked through a tear.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “I make no promises.”

Engfa handed Charlotte a secure satellite phone. “One line. Untraceable. You call only if it’s life or death.”

Charlotte took it, her eyes never leaving Engfa’s. “Then you better stay alive.”

The helicopter lifted slowly into the stormy sky, slicing through the wind and disappearing into the clouds—headed for a classified location only four people on Earth knew.

---

Back inside the Waraha command room, silence gave way to movement.

Engfa turned to her team.

“All assets are in the air. Safe.”

Snack clenched her jaw. “Time to end this.”

Heidi dropped a black case on the table. Inside: new passports, burner phones, silenced weapons, and encrypted drives.

“Everything we need for London.”

Aoom flicked a switch. The map zoomed in on Davikah’s known holdings in Europe. “Private estate outside the city. Underground vault. Heavy surveillance. He thinks he’s untouchable.”

Marima pulled her coat over her shoulder. “Let’s show him otherwise.”

Nudee’s voice was cool and steady. “We go ghost. No trace. No mercy.”

Chompu looked at Engfa. “Flight’s ready. Say the word.”

Engfa stared at the blinking red dot on the screen—Davikah’s last known location.

She narrowed her eyes.

“Let’s take the fight to London.”

---

London dripped with fog and tension.

The Waraha team arrived under layers of aliases and forged identities. No private jet. No traceable route. Just whispers in underground networks and encrypted coordinates leading to one place:

The Hollow Rose — a high-end jazz bar above ground, an intelligence hub beneath.

Engfa, Snack, Heidi, Chompu, Nudee, Marima, Aoom, and Meena walked in like ghosts. Dressed in sleek black, they moved through the soft piano music, acting like another rich clique avoiding the chill outside.

They passed a velvet curtain in the back hallway and descended into the bar’s real heart—a neon-lit maze of tech, whispers, and old favors owed.

At the core: a woman with silver hair and a cigarette perched on her lips.

Riza.

An ex-MI6 asset turned rogue informant. She’d worked with Engfa once—years ago—when Bangkok had burned and truths had bled.

“Bloody hell,” Riza smirked, raising a glass. “When they said Waraha was coming to London, I thought they meant for a royal wedding. Not war.”

Engfa dropped a flash drive on the table.
“Davikah’s location. We need confirmation.”

Riza tapped the drive into her tablet, screens lighting up behind her.

“He’s at the Belgrave Estate. But he’s not alone.”

Snack narrowed her eyes. “Go on.”

“Ex-HOORNE loyalists. At least twelve. Security’s tighter than a royal vault. But get this—” Riza flipped to a surveillance clip.

Davikah was there, meeting with a cloaked figure.

Riza zoomed in, enhanced the face. It wasn’t clear, but Engfa felt her stomach twist.

“That’s not one of his men. That’s… someone else.”

Riza nodded. “I don’t know who he is, but he’s not local. He’s funding something. Supplies, men, tech. Davikah’s building an army.”

Chompu swore softly.

Aoom leaned in. “He’s preparing for a full-blown counter-strike.”

Marima asked, “Can you get us in?”

Riza smiled like a blade. “I can do better. I’ll get you blueprints, shift schedules, and eyes inside. But once you’re in…”

Engfa finished it:
“We finish what he started.”