A split-second later, just as Kane and the others moved to make their move, a bullet tore through the window and punched cleanly through the two men holding the girl—both went down instantly, blood blooming on their collars. Troy and the soldiers surged forward, firing on the remaining attackers while someone dragged the girl free. The gunfight was brutal and quick; Troy's men mopped up the rest. Kane wasn't so lucky—he screamed for mercy as a round shattered his legs and sent him collapsing.
"Spare me!" he begged. Troy merely stared, then made sure the girl was safe and checked the window to see where the shot had come from.
Below, Marcus and the others had heard the shot as well. Angel tilted her head. "What was that?" she asked. Marcus frowned. "Interesting—sound like a high-caliber round. Whoever fired that has range and power."
A few minutes earlier, a group of seven strangers had been arguing in hushed voices nearby. "We should help them," one man said.
"No—we can't. We were just passing through. The mission comes first," a woman replied. Another said. "Is that even possible? There's only seven of us left."
Garry, a broad-shouldered man in the group, paused and looked toward the commotion. "We should help," he said slowly. "Since we arrived in this city we haven't seen anyone else. These people… something's wrong."
Another in the group pointed toward the windows where the firefight was unfolding. "Look—those guys are taking a girl hostage."
"Leo—take the shot. Only the hostage-takers," someone ordered. Leo nodded and moved to his position.
The sniper he carried was built for stopping power: a long, heavy chassis with a reinforced barrel, an adjustable bipod planted on the sill, and a high-magnification scope. Its bolt action cycled a large, high-caliber cartridge designed for long ranges; the rifle's muzzle had a noticeable brake and the stock was fitted to reduce recoil. Leo loaded a single, heavy round, settled his cheek into the stock, found the target through the scope, and exhaled—ready to change the outcome.
Leo took the shot—he had the two targets locked in his sights, they weren't moving, so he fired twice. Both men went down.
"Targets neutralized," Leo reported.
"Good," the man who gave the order said.
"What now?" the woman asked.
"Let's go meet them," the man who seemed to be their leader replied. "Leo, stay here and provide cover in case things go wrong."
"Alright, boss," Leo answered.
The group moved slowly toward the building where I and the others were.
Right after they dragged Kane outside and threw him at my feet, he began frantic, begging and babbling about how he was innocent and how the leader had ordered everything. Then Kane caught sight of Angel. His expression changed in an instant. Angel saw him too; she started trembling and couldn't form words—only broken sounds escaped her.
I noticed it immediately and stepped forward, wrapping my arms around her. "Angel—what's wrong? You can tell me," I murmured.
Between sobs and stuttering breaths she finally managed to say it. "He—he's the one who killed my parents. He… he ate them in front of me." Her voice was a shattered whisper full of fear and hatred.
The room went deathly quiet. Troy and the soldiers turned ashen. Kane, who had been groveling a moment ago, suddenly revealed his true colors—he laughed like a madman, a wet, sick sound. "I remember you, little girl," he sneered. "Your parents were delicious. I wish I could've eaten you too."
I signaled from the edge of the group and spoke to Troy. "Make sure this one dies. Put Plan Z on him and see it through," I ordered. Troy nodded.
I held Angel tighter and tried to steady her breathing. "You're safe," I told her.
I finally managed to calm her down, and she fell asleep. The other rescued girl kept staring at me as she sat in my lap — she simply hopped in. "Plan Z," which I told Troy about, was a method to torture our enemies before they die. The torture is so brutal that they would beg for death immediately; that's what will happen to Kane. This plan is carried out by one of my twenty bodyguards who is with the Federation.
Troy also told me that the one who fired the shot earlier looked to be on our side, since they'd helped us, but I'll still be careful.
A commotion rose from the soldiers guarding outside. "Looks like we're going to have guests," Troy said. He checked the perimeter and added, "There are six of them."
"It's them," he confirmed, matching what I'd suspected. "Let them in," I told him—I couldn't move much with the girl on my lap, staring up at me and making me uncomfortably aware of every shift. Angel was asleep, her head resting against my one free hand; I'd used that hand as a pillow and it was starting to ache.
The door burst open and six people hurried inside, escorted by Troy and a few of our soldiers in case things went wrong. Two women and four men. I used my other hand to motion for them to sit opposite me while Troy and the rest remained standing.
The man who looked like their leader took the seat opposite me, while the others remained standing behind him, watchful and alert. All of them wore matching blue tactical gear—it looked organized, military even.
Who are these people? I wondered, studying the patches and gear they carried.
"You're a cautious one, aren't you?" the leader said, a faint smirk on his face. "Looks like you're one of the prepared."
At those words, my expression darkened—Troy's too, along with the soldiers nearby. The leader noticed it immediately. "Judging by your reaction—and your men's—you know what I mean."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, my tone wary.
"So, you also got the information, huh?" he replied.
I frowned. "Wait—what information?" I was completely confused now. Troy looked at me, just as puzzled.
The man tilted his head. "Hmm. Looks like you don't. Forget it, then." He leaned back slightly. "You're one of those survivalist types, aren't you? Or am I wrong again?"
What the hell is he talking about? I thought, frustration rising in my chest. Information? Survivalist? None of this makes sense.
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