William watched the sniper’s trajectory.
Heading toward a doctor’s house.
This guy has connections.
Like someone trying to cash out in a game of Delta Force, rushing for extraction.
He had something valuable, and he was running.
William checked his map, calculated the timing, then squeezed off a burst in the sniper’s direction.
Then he ducked.
The shots missed completely.
But the humiliation was real.
The sniper jumped, scrambling for cover.
No silencer, in the middle of the street.
That was a declaration of war.
The sniper pressed against a wall, mind racing.
Who was after him?
A guy in this business without enemies wasn’t trying hard enough.
Sirens wailed in the distance.
Then nothing.
Like the gunshots had been a hallucination.
The sniper looked at the bullet holes in the wall.
Felt his numb arm, his tight chest, the blood seeping through his back.
His expression stayed calm.
Just ten minutes ago, he’d been the hunter.
Now the roles were reversed.
He’d known this day would come.
Since he first stepped into this life, he knew.
But he’d chosen this path anyway.
Better than ending up like those dead kids from the fighting rings.
He’d lost his edge.
Underestimated his target.
Getting bit was normal.
Getting bit this badly was a first.
If he survived tonight…
His body was cooling.
No more waiting.
He took a breath, fired two shots behind him, and bolted into the darkness.
William still didn’t show himself.
Why risk it?
He wanted to live.
He walked slowly.
Time was on his side.
Then he stopped.
And backed out of the alley.
On the other side, the sniper crouched by a dumpster, barely breathing.
Still as death.
His instinct said to reach the doctor’s safe house.
No fighting allowed there—Hotel rules.
It was his only hope.
The Continental was too far.
But who would expect him to stay put?
The distance gave him a decent ambush spot.
He knew he couldn’t escape without killing his pursuer.
Footsteps.
Soft.
Getting closer.
He tensed, still able to raise his gun.
His hand brushed the round object in his pocket.
His eyes went cold.
At this point, who cared about the rules?
Getting blacklisted was tomorrow’s problem.
Blood loss.
Pain.
His thoughts started to scatter.
Then he realized.
The footsteps had stopped.
Silence.
Just the hum of the city.
Had he imagined it?
His eyes went wide.
Exposed?
He tried to move.
Too late.
His right chest erupted.
A hole the size of a fist.
Shotgun pellets punched through, scattering into the dirt.
He felt himself fading.
Faintly, he saw his childhood.
The black-market fights.
The kids.
Too bad.
He never got to use his best moves.
Silence again.
William watched the red silhouette fall.
He still didn’t move.
He wasn’t a fighter.
He wasn’t a shooter.
Patience was his only weapon.
The night was long.
He could wait for the man to bleed out.
An hour later, William stood outside the blood pool, staring at his would-be killer.
Face down.
Face and clothes soaked red.
Unrecognizable.
Dangerous man.
Even being careful, William wouldn’t have figured out his hiding spot.
Too clever.
But life wasn’t fair.
The sniper had been careful.
William just had x-ray vision.
He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on.
Loot time.
He stayed in the alley mouth and used Telekinesis to yank the body.
Seconds later, a muffled explosion.
The corpse slammed against the wall.
A blackened coin clattered at William’s feet.
William swallowed.
Not from caution this time.
He just didn’t have anywhere to wash his hands.
That’s why he was standing so far away.
A grenade?
Really?
Who carries that around?
He picked up the charred coin, slung his bag, and walked away.
Decision made.
Tonight, he was staying at the Continental Hotel.
One: it was safe.
Two: he was probably getting a visit anyway.
Best to look cooperative.
Even he knew a hand grenade going off in the city wasn’t something that just disappeared.
Half an hour later, he stood at the Continental’s front desk.
He’d grumbled about the expensive cab fare.
Annabelle was there, even at this hour.
He wondered, not for the first time, when these people ever slept.
She smiled when she saw him.
Then she remembered the reports flooding in from across the city.
The smile faded.
William beamed, sliding a slightly blackened coin across the counter.
“A room, please.” He was nothing if not polite.
Annabelle stared at the deformed coin.
She’d been trained to authenticate them.
This one was beyond recognition.
She shot him a look.
He just smiled.
She took the coin anyway and handed him a key.
Room 646.
“Tomorrow, Mr.
Stanley.
The Manager wants to see you.
To discuss tonight’s excitement in the old district.” Her voice carried both warning and invitation.