Reaper’s pulse thundered in his ears.
This wasn’t surveillance anymore.This was the move.
He glanced at his phone, thumb hovering over King’s number.Backup was the smart call.The disciplined call.One against three was bad math even for him, but time mattered.
If he called it in, there would be questions. A delay measured in minutes that Elena Morales did not have.
The men crossed the street, splitting up without a word.One stayed near the car, lookout.The other two headed toward her building, heads down, purpose written into every step.
Reaper made his decision.He cut the engine and got out of his truck.Reaper moved fast and quiet, boots barely whispering against asphalt as he closed the distance.His knife slid into his hand like it had always belonged there.The world narrowed, sounds sharpening, every sense locked onto the threat.
The lookout never saw him.Reaper came up behind him, arm snaking around his throat, blade flashing once in the dark.The man jerked, choked, then went limp as Reaper eased him down behind the sedan, careful not to let his body hit the ground too hard.
One down.The other two were already at the building entrance.One of them reached for the door.Reaper broke cover.
He moved like violence incarnate, crossing the space in seconds.The first man turned at the sound, eyes widening just as Reaper slammed into him.Bone cracked under the force of the blow.The man went down hard, breath exploding out of him in a wet gasp.
The second man drew his gun, but Reaper was faster.
He caught the wrist, twisted, felt tendons snap.The gun clattered to the pavement.Reaper drove his elbow into the man’s throat, felt cartilage collapse, then finished it with a knife to the ribs, angled just right.
It was brutal, efficient, and final.Silence fell, heavy and absolute.
Reaper stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling, blood slicking his hands.He scanned the street, listening for sirens, for shouting, for anything that meant he’d lost the element of surprise.
Nothing.He wiped his blade on the dead man’s jacket and looked up at Elena’s building.Her light was still on.She hadn’t heard any of it.Good, but this changed everything.
They’d made their move sooner than expected, which meant they were desperate, angry, or both.Either way, once they found out about the men Reaper killed, they would send more.
Reaper knew he couldn’t leave her here, not now.
He dragged the bodies into deeper shadow, wiped down surfaces with practiced efficiency, erased what he could.It wasn’t perfect, but it would buy time.Then he headed for her door.
The hallway smelled like old carpet and stale air.He climbed the stairs two at a time, every step tightening the coil in his chest.When he reached her apartment, he paused outside, listening.
There was soft music, the rustle of pages.The sound of someone alive and unaware.
He knocked once.Then two more times.Inside, the music cut off.Footsteps approached, cautious.
“Who is it?”her voice called, tired but steady.Reaper closed his eyes for half a second.This was the moment.The line he couldn’t uncross.
“Elena,” he said through the door.“You need to come with me.Now.”
Silence.Then the chain slid into place.The door cracked open just enough for her face to appear, eyes wide, hair loose around her shoulders.She took him in a single glance.The black jacket.The blood he hadn’t completely cleaned away.The violence clinging to him like a second skin.
Fear flashed across her face.
“What?”she whispered.“Who are you?”
“Someone who knows you’re in danger,” Reaper said, voice low and unyielding.“You don’t have time to argue.”
Her gaze flicked past him, down the hallway.“I don’t know you.”
“I know, but I’m on your side,” he said.“You’re not safe here.They’ll send more men after you.”
That got her attention.
“What do you mean,they?”Her breath hitched.“Who—”
