The tire tracks led southwest.
> The mountains… Who the hell builds a hideout there?
Overdramatic. But I guess they think they're untouchable.
Fine.
If they believe they're out of reach—
> I'll prove them wrong.
> I'm not their target.
I'm their reckoning.
I took two knives. Checked the balance.
One light — for throwing.
One heavy — for close combat.
> Time's up. Let's go.
Four hours later
I'd nearly lost the trail. Roots, grass, rocks — it all blended together.
But then…
Empty shell casings on the ground.
Blanks — but still a sign.
> They're here. And close.
Five minutes later — I found it.
Their hideout.
Concrete walls. A camera above the entrance.
Three guards.
> Showtime.
I silently hurled the first knife — right into the left one's throat.
No sound. Just a gurgle.
Second knife — to the right guard's neck.
Dropped instantly.
The third grabbed his radio—
> Too late.
I was already in front of him.
Stabbed him in the gut.
Then the neck.
Unconscious.
> Sleep, mutt.
I looked around.
Silence.
> It's only going to get worse from here.
But I don't care.
I'm coming for her.