She jumped forward, throwing a punch straight at his face.
But he was fast—too fast.
He slipped past it and hit her back, landing a heavy blow to her side.
Pain shot through her ribs. Something cracked.
Rain poured from the sky, hard and cold.
The night was frozen, but the fight burned like fire.
She staggered up, shaky and sore. Her body screamed, but she refused to stay down.
He rushed her again, water splashing under his feet.
His fist flew—
She ducked the first.
The second crashed into her face.
Blood filled her mouth. She felt it—sharp, sudden—one of her teeth was gone.
Her vision spun. The world twisted.
Then—
She dropped.
Darkness wrapped around her like a cloak.
A voice rang out—calm, cold, in control.
"Take her."
Ethan stood over her, eyes unreadable in the rain.
Two men from the clan stepped forward from the shadows.
They grabbed her limp body and dragged her away.
Ethan stepped into a separate building—a hidden command center tucked far from curious eyes. The facility sat in an unknown location, silent and secure.
Dressed in black, he moved with quiet purpose.
Faint bruises marked his face, souvenirs from the fight earlier.
He didn't flinch.
He never did.
He was met by another man—his man—dressed in black just like him.
Twin rapiers were strapped to the man's back, glinting under the hallway's fluorescent lights as they walked side by side.
They moved in silence until they stepped into a room with a one-way glass window.
Behind the glass, she sat slumped in a chair—still unconscious, hands bound, soaked in rain and blood.
Ethan's voice cut through the still air.
"Tell me, Shadow… what do we know about this girl?"
Shadow didn't look away from the glass.
"To be honest? Nothing. It's like she doesn't exist."
Ethan's jaw tightened.
"Then how the hell did she find this place?"
Inside the room, two men stood watch over her, silent and still.
Ethan raised a communicator to his lips.
"Wake her up."
His voice was calm. Icy.
One of the men stepped forward, grabbed a metal bucket, and without a word—
splashed cold water over her face.
She jolted upright, gasping as the chill yanked her back to reality.
Pain shot through her ribs the moment she moved—sharp and unforgiving.
She winced, breath catching.
Then she noticed—
she was bound tight.
No room to fight.
No way to run.
Ethan's voice crackled through the speaker again.
"Tell me... who are you?"
She lifted her head slowly, eyes locking on the one-way glass. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was there.
Blood streaked her face, lips split and swollen—
and yet...
she smiled.
Wicked. Unbothered. Defiant.
"I'm your nemesis," she said, voice low and sharp like broken glass.
A fist cracked across her face before she could finish the smirk.
Pain exploded again. Her ribs screamed.
But she didn't scream.
She just chuckled—faint, dark, like thunder behind a storm.
She spat blood onto the floor, the taste of iron thick on her tongue.
Ethan's voice came through once more.
"One way or another... I'll get my answers."
Ethan turned to leave, but Shadow's voice stopped him.
"Wait. I found something," he said, scrolling through the tablet in his hands.
"Look at this."
He held up the screen. A photo flickered to life—
a close-up of her skin.
A tattoo.
A phoenix—inked in black and crimson, wings spread like fire reborn.
Ethan stared at it, brow furrowed.
He didn't recognize it.
Didn't know the symbol.
Didn't know the clan.
He'd never seen a mark like that before.
"Find out everything you can about her," Ethan said, voice firm as steel.
"We can't afford unknown enemies."
With that, he turned and walked out, boots echoing down the hallway.
Meanwhile, far beyond the facility walls,
another figure watched—
still as stone, hidden in the brush.
Her form melted into the trees, camouflaged by leaves and shadows.
She studied the building carefully.
Every movement.
Every guard shift.
She was waiting for the perfect moment.
But under her breath, she cursed.
"Damn you, Sable," she muttered.
"You just had to drag me into this mess."
Back in the room where Sable was held, dried blood caked her face, her bruises blooming like shadows beneath her skin. Her head hung low, strands of hair clinging to her sweat-soaked cheeks.
The door creaked open.
Ethan stepped in, flanked by two men. His boots echoed across the cold floor like a drumroll of judgment.
Sable lifted her head slowly, a wicked grin curling on her battered lips. Despite everything, she still had fire in her eyes.
Ethan leaned back in the chair, a faint, unbothered smile tugging at his lips.
"I've gotta admit—you're tough. That wasn't an easy fight out there," he said, a flicker of pride in his tone. "But I did a number on you."
Sable, still bruised and bloodied, chuckled darkly through cracked lips. Her grin never faded.
"Really?" she drawled, her voice hoarse but defiant. "Why don't you loosen these cuffs and let's run it back. See how round two plays out."
Ethan gave a short laugh, shaking his head.
"That won't be necessary. I'm not here to fight anymore," he said, voice dipping into something more diplomatic. "I think we can strike a deal. You tell me who you are and how you found this place... and you're out of here. No harm. We drug you, you wake up miles away with no memory of any of this."
Sable let out a low, weak laugh—dry, bitter, and sharp enough to cut glass.
"That what you tell everyone you hold hostage, Ethan?" she whispered, eyes burning with quiet fury.
The moment she said his name, a subtle shift cracked through Ethan's calm.
His smile faded for a second too long. He hid the shock well, but inside, alarm bells were ringing.
How the hell does she know my name?
"Yeah, right… Wondering how I know that name?" Sable murmured, her voice laced with smug defiance. "I know a lot about you… pal."
She dragged out the last word with venomous sarcasm, her grin widening just enough to twist the knife.
Ethan's jaw tightened. He could feel the heat rising beneath his skin, pulsing just below the surface.
She was too calm—too damn calm for someone bound and beaten. That unsettled him.
Still, he kept his composure, burying his irritation beneath a layer of cold calculation.
He studied her face again, searching for something—anything—that might spark recognition. But she was a ghost. No match. No intel. Nothing in the database.
He subtly raised two fingers. One of the men behind stepped forward, carrying a sleek black briefcase.
With a quiet nod, Ethan accepted it, placing it on the table between them without breaking eye contact.
He was done playing games.
It was time to peel back the layers.
He punched in a code—click. The briefcase unlocked with a soft mechanical hiss.
"I see you know how to play your cards right," Ethan said coolly, lifting the lid. "And I respect that… really, I do. But my patience is running thin, and you're going to tell me what I need to know."
Sable let out another laugh—dry, amused, and sharp enough to cut glass.
"Oh, so what now? You're gonna torture me?" she mocked, raising a brow like the idea was beneath her.
Ethan chuckled, almost genuinely.
"Torture? No, no… I don't do that." He leaned in slightly, his voice low and sure. "People like you don't break that way."
Inside the briefcase, a neat arrangement of syringes shimmered under the light, each paired with clear vials of unknown liquid—clinical, cold, and silent threats in glass.
Sable's eyes dropped to the contents.
For the first time, her grin faltered. Her pulse quickened.
Ethan noticed.
And he smiled.
"Oh... don't worry," Ethan said, his tone almost gentle. "No need to panic. I won't make the choice for you—you'll choose for yourself."
He watched her carefully, noting the flicker in her eyes. The fear. He'd found it.
"You see," he continued, gesturing casually to the two vials inside the briefcase, "one of these is Virethane—a poison extracted from the deadliest snake known to man. Potent enough to drop an elephant in seconds. Now, just imagine what it'll do to the human body."
He paused, then tapped the second vial.
"The other's a little less dramatic—Sincerol, a truth serum. No pain, no theatrics. Just truth... spilling out of you like a broken faucet."
Ethan leaned in, his smile slow and disarming.
"That's why I said you get to choose. If I were you, I'd take the Sincerol. Might save your life—well, for a little while, at least. Not like you're getting off this island anyway."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he added with a smirk,
"Or... I could just use both. Truth first. Then silence."
"So, I need an answer," Ethan said, voice cold as steel.
Sable let out a forced laugh, masking the quake in her chest. "You really think I'm scared?"
"Oh, darling… you should be," he replied, his grin slow and sharp like a blade unsheathing. "I'm offering you a shot at life. Take the truth serum, spill the tea, I sedate you, and you wake up somewhere far from here. Simple."
Sable's smirk faltered. Yeah, she was scared now—and Ethan could see it.
"You've got sixty seconds," he added, tapping the face of his sleek chrome stopwatch. "Tick tock, sweetheart."
A tense silence swallowed the room. No footsteps. No breathing. Just the soft, relentless tick of the second hand gnawing away at her fate.
Sable's eyes flicked to the briefcase—two little vials, one sealing her lips forever, the other forcing them open.
She prayed for a miracle.
Ethan leaned back in his chair, calm as a devil sipping tea in hell.
Then—beep.
"Time's up, darling." His voice dropped an octave. "Looks like I'm making the choice for you."
He drew a fresh syringe from the case, uncapped the vial of Sincerol, and pulled in a glint of the glowing liquid. Sable could only watch, helpless, as he stepped toward her.
She twisted in the chair, wrists burning against the restraints.
"You bastard," she hissed. "You son of a—"
"Shhh…" Ethan whispered, bringing the needle close. "It'll only sting for a second."
And just then—BOOM.
Darkness slammed into the room as every light blinked out. Then came the blast—a deep, thunderous roar that shook the ground beneath them.
Ethan froze, syringe hovering midair. Sable's heart punched against her ribs. The tides were shifting. Something had arrived.