Blacklist: The Outer Reaches

Prologue: Gone Hunting

Prologue

Gone Hunting

Six months ago

Evan Danterme was about to die. That much he knew for certain.

He ran through the halls of his townhouse as fast as he could, searching for somewhere, anywhere to hide. He didn't have much time. The men that were chasing him would be on top of him in seconds and right now he was an easy target. But he wasn't going to just let them take him. Not in his own home. Not like this.

He didn't know who these people were or what they wanted, but he wouldn't let them take him down without a fight.

Danterme ran into his office and dove over the top of his desk, taking cover behind its wooden frame. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. He had counted three intruders on his way up and they were all younger and faster than he was.

They were going to find him soon.

He ripped open one of his desk drawers and searched for the gun he kept hidden inside with quivering hands. He threw papers to the floor and tossed books over his shoulder, scrounging through his important documents as though they were useless pieces of trash. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead and the temperature in his office had become unbearable. He needed to move faster.

Where was the stupid thing?

But then, at last, he found it. The 9mm pistol had been under his tablet, and he wrapped his hands around it as though it were the key to eternal life. That gun was the only thing standing between him and a painful death.

He reached into his back pocket, slipped out a magazine, and jabbed it into the gun. He only had nine rounds. He was going to have to make every one of them count.

"Check the bedroom!"

"We know you're here, Danterme! Give it up!"

"I'm going to tear you to pieces, you hear me, Networker! You're going to die!"

Danterme swore and ducked back down. They were here, just out in the hall. He sat there a moment, fighting to take control over his breathing. He could hear them moving from room to room, opening doors, shouting, slamming things about.

They were going to hunt him down.

He dared sneak a look over the top of his desk, trying to get his bearings. There were two of them. One man was in Deja's room, next door to the office. For an instant Danterme had a clear view of him through the open doorway, and he took a long look at his wild, red hair, bare chest, and tribal tattoos that danced across his body.

It was a Pharaoh.

The second man was out of sight, but he could hear him down the hall, breaking through things in the bathroom.

His bathroom. They were in his home.

Danterme shut his eyes and forced back the tears that were welling up behind his eyelids. His brain was being assaulted from every possible direction and he wanted to just collapse and give up. But he couldn't. The Pharaohs were only moments away from finding him. That meant he was left with only moments with which to act.

"There's a lot of scratch in here, man," one of the men said, out in that hall. "Start filling your pockets! Let's make some cash off this Netty."

"Don't get distracted, aight? There's only one thing that we came for."

Danterme glanced from side to side, searching for some way out, but there was nothing. His office was small and there was nowhere to hide. The window was made of blast-proof glass and he was too high off the ground to try and risk a jump even if he could break through. He thought about barricading the doorway with his bookshelf but that would only slow them down. No, there was only one real option.