Chapter 436: Soldier v/s Assasin!!
"You want my help with something, don’t you?"
Silvey froze.
Then laughed.
"Caught me."
Miles sighed.
"So all that talk about salary was a bribe?"
"What?"
Silvey looked offended.
"No."
"I was teasing you."
Miles gave her a suspicious look.
Silvey smiled.
"But I wouldn’t mind going through official channels if I need business help."
"That sounds more believable."
Miles adjusted himself in the chair.
"So..."
"A business problem?"
"Not exactly a problem."
"Then what?"
Silvey became serious.
"We recently acquired a lifestyle and going-out platform."
Miles thought for a moment.
"The one used for booking events?"
"Yes."
"Restaurants too?"
"Table reservations."
"Concerts."
"Experiences."
"Certain private venues."
Miles nodded.
"I know the company."
Silvey continued,
"The market is crowded."
"We have competitors with larger user bases."
"So instead of competing only on discounts..."
"We’re trying to secure exclusives."
Miles smiled faintly.
Silvey pointed toward him.
"And then I saw your Formula One project."
Miles immediately understood.
"Ah."
Silvey smiled.
"We want the circuit."
Miles laughed.
"You spotted that opportunity quickly."
Silvey leaned forward slightly.
"My idea is simple."
"Give our platform exclusive booking access for certain events at the circuit."
"Not necessarily everything."
Miles listened.
Silvey continued,
"The type of people attending those events will be valuable users."
"Executives."
"Foreign visitors."
"High-income customers."
"People who will probably book restaurants, concerts and premium events while they’re in Star Harbor."
"So you don’t just want the ticket sale."
Miles smiled.
"You want the customer after the ticket."
Silvey pointed at him.
"Exactly."
Miles chuckled.
"Smart."
Silvey continued,
"I know the circuit doesn’t need a middleman."
"You could build your own booking system."
"And you definitely wouldn’t want to lose money to platform fees."
Miles nodded.
"So?"
"We don’t charge you anything."
He looked toward her.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
Miles raised an eyebrow.
Silvey continued,
"We manage the system."
"Customer support."
"Bookings."
"Selected hospitality sales."
"Traffic handling."
"You avoid building another customer-facing system."
"We get visibility."
"Prestige."
"And users we can retain afterward."
Miles smiled slowly.
"This sounds suspiciously good."
Silvey laughed.
"It is good for us too."
"I know."
Miles thought for a few seconds.
Then nodded.
"Give Monica the proposal."
Silvey blinked.
Miles smiled.
"And knowing her..."
"She might give you more than the circuit."
Silvey’s eyes brightened.
"More events?"
"Maybe."
"Talk to her."
"Let her tear the proposal apart first."
Silvey laughed.
"That sounds terrifying."
"It should."
Miles smiled.
"But if the deal makes sense, she’ll help."
Silvey nodded enthusiastically.
"Thank you so much, Brother."
Miles looked toward her.
"You can always ask me for help."
Silvey’s smile softened.
"I know."
Miles continued,
"That’s what I promised."
For a moment, the conversation became quiet.
Then Silvey’s expression changed.
A mischievous smile appeared.
"So..."
Miles noticed immediately.
"What?"
"How’s married life?"
Miles stared.
Silvey continued innocently,
"I heard you disappeared for weeks."
"Honeymoon."
"Traveling."
Miles narrowed his eyes.
"Why are you suddenly interested?"
Silvey studied his face.
Then smiled wider.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"Your expression says you enjoyed it."
Miles immediately looked away.
"Shut up."
Silvey laughed.
"Look at you."
"Silvey."
"Alright, alright."
She raised her hands.
Miles checked the time.
His expression changed slightly.
Silvey noticed.
"What is it?"
Miles locked his phone.
"I need your help."
Silvey immediately became attentive.
"Alright."
"What do you need?"
"I have to go out."
She frowned.
"Now?"
"Yes."
"At this time?"
Miles stood.
"It’s important."
Silvey looked toward the brightly lit mansion.
"What should I tell everyone?"
Miles adjusted his jacket.
"If anyone asks..."
He thought briefly.
"Tell them I went to check something at ACE headquarters."
Silvey blinked.
"So you’re using the company as your excuse now?"
"Correct."
She laughed.
"Fine, you are the boss anyways."
Then became curious.
"Can I ask where you’re actually going?"
Miles looked toward her.
"Not far."
"That’s not an answer."
"I’ll be back before midnight."
Silvey watched him.
Then sighed.
"Hmm."
"What?"
"I’m not suspicious."
She smiled.
"I trust you."
Miles nodded.
"But..."
Silvey’s expression became mischievous again.
"A married man shouldn’t be sneaking out alone at night."
Miles slowly turned.
"What exactly are you implying?"
Silvey immediately laughed.
"Nothing."
"Absolutely nothing."
Miles stared at her.
She continued,
"I’m only saying..."
"You can count on me."
Her voice became more sincere.
"I’ve got your back, Brother."
Miles smiled.
"Thanks."
He started walking.
Silvey called after him.
"Wait."
Miles turned.
"Your car is parked at the back."
"That’s staying."
"Why?"
"It’s for the family."
"And their security."
Silvey understood.
Miles continued,
"My agents are picking me up."
"Okay."
She watched him disappear along the side path.
...
A few minutes later...
A dark SUV with heavily tinted windows slowed near one of the quieter estate exits.
The rear door opened.
Miles climbed inside.
The vehicle moved immediately.
No delay.
No attention.
Inside sat two Sterling Security agents.
The one beside Miles handed him a compact bag.
Miles opened it.
"What did you bring me?"
The agent replied calmly,
"Hoodie."
Miles pulled it out.
"Good."
"Handgun."
Miles looked inside.
"Knife."
He nodded.
The agent continued,
"We’ve got tactical vests and heavier weapons in the back."
Miles slowly looked at him.
"Are we fighting a war?"
The man smiled.
"Preparedness."
Miles shook his head.
"No need."
He pulled the hoodie over his shirt.
"What changed?"
The agent’s expression became serious.
"The local thief made a phone call."
Miles looked toward him.
"When?"
"About six minutes ago."
"We couldn’t identify the recipient yet."
"But immediately afterward..."
"He changed position."
Miles’ eyes sharpened.
Miles pulled the hood over his head.
"So action is about to begin."
"That’s what Reina believes."
A faint smile appeared on Miles’ face.
"Then drive faster."
Miles looked out the window.
"Don’t let me miss it."
His expression hardened.
"This one is personal."
The agent understood.
"Copy that."
The SUV accelerated through the Citadel night.
...
Marcus Vane’s apartment.
The curtains were closed.
Every light except one had been switched off.
A packed bag rested near the wall.
Marcus stood near the window, but never directly in front of it.
His handgun sat on the table within reach.
His phone was against his ear.
"How much longer am I supposed to wait?"
Vivienne’s voice answered immediately.
"Calm down."
"Calm down?"
Marcus moved away from the window.
"He is a General."
His breathing was uneven.
"He looked at me during that speech."
"He knows."
Vivienne remained silent.
Marcus continued,
"He definitely knows I’m connected."
"Maybe not everything."
"But enough."
He rubbed his forehead.
"I can’t go back to the base."
Marcus snapped.
"I have to disappear."
"I’m going AWOL."
"I don’t have another choice."
He moved toward the table.
"I don’t even know if someone is watching the building right now."
Vivienne’s patience disappeared.
"What do you think I’m doing, Marcus?"
He stopped.
"I’ve already sent someone."
"A new passport."
"Cash."
"Everything you need."
Marcus looked toward the door.
"You’ve been saying that for hours."
Vivienne’s voice hardened.
"Who do you think you’re speaking to?"
Marcus clenched his jaw.
"I have more responsibilities in one afternoon than you have in that miserable army base for an entire month."
He looked furious.
Vivienne continued,
"So sit quietly."
"Stop panicking."
"And wait."
The call ended.
Marcus stared at the phone.
Then threw it onto the sofa.
"Bitch."
He paced once.
"I shouldn’t have done her dirty work in the first place."
Knock.
Marcus froze.
His eyes immediately moved toward the door.
Another knock.
He reached for his handgun.
No sound came from outside.
Marcus approached slowly.
He didn’t stand directly before the door.
Instead, he moved to the side and looked through the peephole from an angle.
A woman.
Alone.
Simple clothes.
One large bag hanging from her shoulder.
Marcus watched for several seconds.
Then unlocked the door.
Only enough to see her clearly.
The woman sighed.
"Took you long enough."
Marcus opened it wider.
She stepped inside.
Then stopped.
Her eyes moved toward the weapon in his hand.
"Can you move that?"
Marcus frowned.
The woman smiled nervously.
"I’m afraid of guns."
Marcus stared at her.
Then closed the door.
He tucked his handgun into the back of his waistband.
"Did you bring everything?"
The woman lifted the bag.
"Three passports."
Marcus’ expression eased slightly.
"And?"
"Cash."
"How much?"
"Enough to keep you alive for years if you’re not stupid."
Marcus watched her place the bag on the table.
She opened the zipper.
Stacks of currency.
Documents.
Three passport covers.
She looked up.
Then smiled.
A suppressed handgun appeared.
Marcus froze.
The barrel pointed directly at him.
His hand moved slightly toward his back.
The woman’s expression changed.
"No."
Marcus stopped.
"You reach for your gun..."
Her finger settled against the trigger.
"...I shoot."
Marcus stared at her.
Then laughed bitterly.
"That bitch."
The woman remained still.
"I did everything for her."
Marcus’ voice became quieter.
"All the dirty work."
"All those years."
"And this is what I get."
He looked toward the weapon.
Marcus smiled without humor.
"I wonder what she’ll do to you one day."
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
Then she smirked.
"I won’t make the same mistake I did before with that Secret service agent."
Marcus looked at her.
"What mistake?"
"Leaving a body."
Her expression became colder.
"You wanted to disappear."
She tilted the weapon slightly.
"Congratulations."
"You will."
Marcus’ eyes hardened.
"Forever."
For half a second...
Neither moved.
Then Marcus kicked the table.
Hard.
The heavy edge slammed into the woman’s thigh and hip.
Her aim jerked sideways.
Marcus threw himself behind the kitchen divider.
Pfft.
The suppressed round struck the wall.
Marcus ripped his handgun from his waistband.
The woman immediately moved away from the table.
"For a killer..."
Marcus shouted from cover.
"...you talk too much."
He leaned out just enough to fire.
Bang!
The shot tore through the apartment.
No suppressor.
No attempt to hide it.
The woman dropped behind the overturned table as the round shattered a lamp behind her.
Marcus moved immediately.
He crossed toward the hallway.
The woman fired twice.
Pfft.
Pfft.
One round struck the wall where his head had been seconds earlier.
Another buried itself into a wooden cabinet.
Marcus reached the corner.
He waited.
Listened.
Nothing.
The woman stayed behind cover.
Marcus lowered his breathing.
The apartment suddenly felt much smaller.
A sofa.
Dining table.
Narrow hallway.
Kitchen partition.
Two bedrooms.
Only a handful of useful angles.
Marcus knew every one.
It was his home.
He stepped backward.
Then deliberately kicked a glass bottle across the floor.
It rolled toward the opposite side.
The woman’s weapon shifted toward the sound.
Marcus moved from the other direction.
Bang!
She ducked.
The bullet ripped through the table edge.
Wood fragments struck her cheek.
"Damn."
Marcus fired again.
The woman rolled away from the table just as the second round punched through it.
Pfft.
Marcus dropped behind the wall.
The round passed so close that plaster sprayed across his face.
He smiled grimly.
"You’re good."
The woman remained silent now.
No more conversation.
Marcus checked his magazine.
Then looked toward the bedroom doorway behind him.
He moved.
Quiet.
Controlled.
The woman listened.
His footsteps disappeared.
Her expression changed.
She moved away from the sofa.
Slowly.
Her handgun remained raised.
She reached the hallway.
Nothing.
One bedroom door stood slightly open.
She approached.
One step.
Another.
She pushed it with her foot.
Empty.
A shadow moved behind her.
Marcus grabbed her wrist.
The weapon jerked upward.
Pfft.
The bullet struck the ceiling.
The woman immediately drove her elbow backward.
Marcus absorbed part of the impact against his forearm.
Then slammed her wrist against the wall.
Once.
Twice.
The handgun almost slipped.
She rotated instead of resisting.
Her free hand struck his throat.
Marcus staggered.
She pulled away.
He caught the back of her jacket.
The fabric tightened.
She turned sharply and drove her knee toward his abdomen.
Marcus blocked with his thigh.
Then shoved her hard into the bedroom door.
The wood cracked against her shoulder.
She grimaced.
Marcus punched.
The woman slipped sideways.
His fist struck the frame.
She caught his arm, turned her body and tried using his momentum to throw him.
Marcus planted his foot.
Stopped the movement.
Then drove his forehead into hers.
The woman stumbled backward.
Blood immediately appeared near her eyebrow.
Marcus reached for her weapon.
She kicked his knee.
His leg buckled.
She tore free.
Pfft.
Marcus twisted.
The round struck his upper arm.
He grunted.
Not deep.
But enough.
Marcus grabbed the nearest object, a small metal lamp, and threw it.
The woman ducked.
Marcus rushed her.
He struck her gun hand before she could recover.
The weapon hit the floor.
Both looked down.
The woman reacted first.
She kicked it away.
It slid beneath the sofa in the living room.
Marcus immediately raised his own handgun.
The woman grabbed his wrist with both hands.
The barrel pointed upward.
Bang!
The ceiling cracked.
Marcus forced the weapon downward.
She twisted his hand.
His finger slipped from the trigger.
The two struggled across the living room.
Neither could bring the gun into line.
Marcus used his weight.
He drove her backward against the dining table.
The remaining passports fell onto the floor.
Cash scattered.
The woman rammed her palm into the side of his face.
Marcus staggered.
She struck again.
A fast hook.
Then another.
Marcus blocked the third.
Caught her wrist.
And drove his knee into her stomach.
Air left her lungs.
He shoved her away.
Then raised his weapon.
The woman kicked a chair between them.
Marcus fired.
Bang!
The bullet tore through the backrest.
She rolled behind the sofa.
Marcus advanced.
"You should have taken the first shot."
No answer.
"Your mistake."
Marcus moved around the sofa.
Empty.
His eyes narrowed.
Then something struck the back of his wrist.
His handgun fell.
The woman had circled through the kitchen.
She followed with a short punch to his ribs.
Marcus grabbed her shoulders.
The two slammed into the counter.
A bowl fell.
Ceramic shattered across the floor.
Marcus tried to pin her.
The woman drove her thumb into the wounded area on his arm.
Pain shot through him.
His grip loosened.
She slipped free.
Marcus turned.
She struck his jaw.
Once.
Twice.
He absorbed the second hit and grabbed her around the waist.
Then drove her into the wall.
The impact shook a framed picture loose.
It crashed beside them.
The woman grunted.
Marcus pulled back his fist.
She ducked.
His punch struck plaster.
Before he could recover...
She swept his leg.
Marcus dropped to one knee.
The woman kicked his chest.
He fell backward.
But immediately rolled and stood again.
The assassin’s expression finally changed.
This wasn’t an ordinary target.
Marcus wiped blood from the corner of his mouth.
"What’s wrong?"
He smiled.
"Expected an old officer who forgot how to fight?"
The woman breathed heavily.
Marcus stepped toward her.
She reached toward the kitchen counter.
Marcus rushed.
Too late.
Her fingers closed around a heavy decorative base from the broken lamp.
Marcus caught her arm.
They struggled.
He drove her backward.
She struck his wounded arm with her elbow.
Marcus cursed.
His grip loosened.
The woman twisted free.
Marcus raised his other hand.
The heavy base swung.
Thud.
It struck the side of his head.
His vision flashed white.
Marcus staggered.
The room tilted.
He tried to stay standing.
One step.
Then another.
His knees gave way.
He collapsed onto the floor.
The woman dropped the base.
Her breathing was ragged.
Blood ran near her eyebrow.
Her clothes were torn.
One arm trembled from the fight.
She looked around.
Then spotted her handgun beneath the sofa.
She crossed the room quickly.
Reached down.
Retrieved it.
Marcus moved weakly on the floor.
The woman walked back.
She pointed the suppressed gun directly at him.
Marcus looked up through blurred vision.
The assassin took a deep breath.
Then another.
"You messed this up."
Marcus tried pushing himself upward.
She aimed at his head.
"Now die."
Her finger began tightening.
A hand suddenly struck her from behind.
Hard.
The woman stumbled.
She turned instinctively.
Too slow.
A kick slammed into her side.
She was thrown across the floor.
Pain shot through her ribs.
Her handgun flew from her hand and spun across the room.
The woman gasped.
Then looked up.
Reina stood between her and Marcus.
Calm.
Almost disappointed.
"You two were entertaining."
Reina glanced toward the destroyed apartment.
Broken furniture.
Bullet holes.
Blood.
Money scattered everywhere.
Then back toward the assassin.
"Unfortunately..."
She smiled.
"...you killed the fun."
The woman slowly pushed herself up.
Her eyes moved immediately toward the gun lying several feet away.
Reina noticed.
"Don’t."
The woman looked toward her.
"Who are you?"
Behind Reina...
Marcus laughed weakly from the floor.
"Looks like..."
He coughed.
"...we’re both dying."
The woman snapped,
"Shut up."
Then looked toward Reina again.
Her eyes narrowed.
"She didn’t send her."
Marcus’ smile disappeared slightly.
Reina said nothing.
A voice came from the apartment entrance.
"She’s right."
Everyone turned.
A man stood in the doorway.
Dark hoodie.
Face hidden beneath the shadow.
"She didn’t send her."
The man stepped inside.
"She’s with me."
Reina smirked.
The assassin’s expression changed.
The hooded man closed the door behind him.
Then slowly looked toward her.
"It’s been a while..."
His voice remained calm.
"...Nadia."
The woman froze.
Her eyes widened.
That voice.
She knew that voice.
From a life she thought had disappeared.
"You..."
Her breathing stopped.
"You are..."
The hooded man took another step.
Nadia’s face went pale.
"You’re..."
To Be Continued.