Leena didn't turn around.
She didn't slow down either.
She walked as if nothing had changed—head slightly lowered, hands in her hoodie pockets, footsteps steady. To anyone watching, she was just a girl heading back to the hospital late at night.
But her senses were wide open.
Seven.
Confirmed.
Two behind her.
One to the left, pretending to smoke.
One across the street, leaning against a car.
Three more spreading out ahead.
A containment pattern.
They weren't trying to scare her.
They were trying to take her.
Leena's lips pressed into a thin line.
She turned into a narrow side road without hesitation.
The streetlights here were broken. Only one flickered weakly at the far end. Old warehouses lined both sides, abandoned and silent. Rusted shutters. Cracked asphalt.
No cameras.
No people.
No witnesses.
Good.
The footsteps behind her quickened.
She heard it clearly now—boots on concrete, breathing no longer masked, coordination tightening.
She stopped.
Just like that.
The sudden halt threw them off.
"Alright," a rough voice said from behind her. "Nice and easy, miss. Don't scream."
Leena turned slowly.
Seven men stepped into the dim light.
Big.
Armed.
Confident.
At the center stood their leader—a fat man with a shaved head, sweat already forming on his temples. He held a stun baton in one hand, a gun tucked carelessly into his waistband.
"You're worth good money," he said, trying to sound relaxed. "So don't make this hard."
Leena looked at them calmly.
Her heart wasn't racing.
Her hands weren't shaking.
Her body felt… ready.
She tilted her head slightly. "Seven of you," she said quietly.
The men exchanged looks.
"What?" one of them scoffed.
Leena exhaled.
Then—
She moved.
The first man never saw it coming.
She stepped forward, fast—too fast—and drove her elbow into his throat. There was a sharp crack, a wet gasp, and he collapsed before he could even react.
The second lunged at her.
Leena twisted, grabbed his wrist, and pulled.
Hard.
Bone snapped.
The scream barely left his mouth before she slammed his head into the wall.
Concrete cracked.
He didn't get up.
The alley exploded into chaos.
"Get her!"
One came from behind.
Leena ducked under his swing, felt the air move past her face, and punched upward—clean, precise.
The man flew back.
Not stumbled.
Flew.
He hit the ground hard and didn't move again.
Leena froze for half a heartbeat.
Her eyes flicked to her own fist.
Too strong.
She didn't have time to think.
A blade flashed.
She caught the attacker's arm mid-swing.
Metal screeched as her grip crushed the knife handle. She twisted, slammed her knee into his stomach, then drove him face-first into the asphalt.
Another rushed her.
She stepped into him and shoved—
Not with anger.
Not with force.
With control.
The man's body lifted off the ground and crashed into a parked car. The windshield shattered.
Silence followed.
Only two were left.
Both frozen.
One dropped his weapon and ran.
Leena didn't chase him.
She didn't need to.
The leader—the fat man—had fallen backward and was scrambling away on his hands and knees, eyes wide with terror.
"No—no—wait—please—"
Leena walked toward him slowly.
Each step echoed.
He pressed himself against the wall, shaking.
"You're not human," he sobbed. "You're not—"
Leena crouched in front of him.
Her voice was calm. Cold.
"Who sent you?"
"I—I don't know him!" the man cried. "We just got a call! A number! He said kidnap you—alive—paid everything in advance!"
"Who," Leena repeated.
The man fumbled with his phone, hands trembling so badly he almost dropped it.
"This—this number! That's all I swear!"
He shoved the phone toward her.
Leena took it.
Looked at the screen.
A single number.
No name.
No contact history.
No trace.
Disposable.
She memorized it instantly.
Then handed the phone back.
The man looked up, confused.
"You… you're letting me go?"
Leena stood.
"Yes."
Hope flashed across his face.
Then she leaned down and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear:
"Disappear."
She turned and walked away.
Behind her, the alley remained silent.
Leena didn't look back.
Her hands slipped into her hoodie pockets as she returned to the main road, her steps calm once more.
Her reflection passed in a dark window.
Her eyes were steady.
Focused.
No fear.
No guilt.
Only understanding.
This was her first fight.
And now she knew.
The system hadn't given her power to survive.
It had given her power to dominate.
Leena walked back toward the hospital—
And somewhere, far away, someone was about to realize they had made a catastrophic mistake.
High above the city, on the top floor of Shep Corporation, the lights in Zak Miller's office were still on.
It was past midnight.
Zak stood near the window, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of untouched whiskey. Below him, the city glowed—alive, unaware.
His phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
He turned, irritation flashing across his face.
"Report," he said sharply.
Silence.
Then the call connected.
Static.
Heavy breathing.
And finally, a voice—shaking.
"S-sir… it failed."
Zak's fingers tightened around the glass.
"What failed?" he asked calmly.
Too calmly.
"The team. All seven. They… they're down."
Zak didn't speak.
The voice rushed on, panic spilling through the line.
"We lost contact one by one. No gunshots. No witnesses. Cameras in the area went dark for exactly three minutes, then came back online. By the time we checked—"
"Enough," Zak said quietly.
The line went dead.
Zak slowly placed the glass on his desk.
It didn't clink.
It didn't shake.
But a thin crack appeared along its side.
Seven men.
Experienced.
Armed.
Paid in full.
Neutralized in minutes.
His eyes narrowed.
This wasn't chance.
This wasn't luck.
This was a mistake.
A fatal one.
Zak moved to his desk and pulled up the surveillance feeds himself. Frame by frame. Enhanced. Cleaned.
Nothing.
Leena entered the frame.
Leena exited the frame.
No struggle.
No pursuit.
No signs of violence.
But he knew better.
His secretary's words echoed in his mind.
"Apart from Riya's transaction, there is nothing. She's clean."
Too clean.
Zak exhaled slowly and sat down.
For the first time in years, unease crept into his chest.
"She's not prey," he murmured.
"She's a variable."
He tapped a few commands.
"Cancel all monitoring on Leena and her mother," he ordered through the secure line.
A pause.
"Sir?" the operator asked, confused.
"Pull back," Zak repeated. "No surveillance. No tail. No interference."
"Yes, sir."
Zak leaned back in his chair, eyes closing briefly.
He wasn't retreating.
He was waiting.
Time cooled things.
Time revealed patterns.
Time made monsters visible.
If Leena was dangerous—
She would move again.
And when she did—
He would be ready