Silas's
breathing was heavy, the adrenaline still coursing through him. The escape had
been close, too close. They were in a temporary safe spot, but it wouldn't be
long before more of Wellington's men would show up.
Ayla
stood by the wall, her arms crossed, watching him closely. The tension between
them was palpable. She had questions. Too many questions.
"You
still haven't told me who you really are," Ayla said, her voice steady but
curious. "Why are they after you? What did you see?"
Silas
wiped blood from his lip, his expression dark. "I can't explain everything
right now. But they'll stop at nothing to get what they want."
Ayla
wasn't satisfied. "But you're not some random guy caught in the middle of
something. You're important. I can tell."
He
shook his head, looking away for a moment. "I didn't want this. I didn't
ask for any of it."
Before
he could elaborate, a faint sound broke the tension—a motorcycle engine revving
in the distance, growing closer. Ayla's eyes widened. "They're here."
Silas
quickly stood up, his instincts kicking in. He pulled Ayla toward the back of
the alley, but it was too late. The rider had arrived.
The
motorcycle screeched to a halt. The rider, clad in black leather, dismounted
swiftly. Without a word, he reached for the knife strapped to his side. The
cold steel glinted in the moonlight.
Ayla
instinctively stepped back, but Silas stood his ground. "Run, Ayla. Get
out of here."
Ayla
shook her head. "I'm not leaving you."
Before
the fight could break out, the rider's phone buzzed. He quickly pulled it from
his pocket, answering with a cold tone. "It's done. He's in my
sights."
There
was a pause on the other end, followed by a chilling voice. "Good. Don't
let him get away. If you fail, it'll be your head next. We can't afford any
more mistakes, not after everything that's gone wrong. The man is a threat, and
I need him neutralized—now."
The
rider gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the knife. "I won't fail.
I'm closing in on him, but he's tougher than expected. He's not just some
random guy; he's been trained. I'll need backup if we're going to finish
this."
A
long silence followed. The superior on the other end spoke again, voice
dripping with authority. "You'll manage. If you're too weak to take care
of a simple job, I'll send someone else. Don't make me regret putting you on
this. Finish it tonight. We'll handle everything else after. He can't slip
through our fingers again."
The
rider nodded, even though the other man couldn't see it. "Understood. I'll
handle it."
The
phone call ended abruptly, and the rider tucked it back into his pocket, eyes
narrowing. There was no room for failure. Not this time.
The
tension in the alley thickened as the rider turned to face Silas, a cold
determination in his eyes. The fight was about to begin.
The
rider dropped his phone back into his pocket, his expression hardening as he
turned toward Silas. Without warning, he lunged forward, knife raised. Silas
had no time to think. He reacted instinctively, sidestepping the blade, his own
fists ready.
The
rider was fast, too fast. He swung the knife again, aiming for Silas's ribs.
Silas blocked it with his forearm, but the force of the strike sent a jolt of
pain up his arm. He stumbled back, trying to regain his footing, but the rider
pressed on, relentless.
"Get
down!" Ayla shouted, her voice sharp, but Silas didn't have time to
process the warning. The rider came at him again, this time with a brutal kick
to his stomach. Silas gasped, the wind knocked out of him. His vision blurred
for a moment, but he refused to let himself falter.
Silas
gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain. He ducked under another swipe of
the knife, then launched himself at the rider, tackling him to the ground. The
rider grunted, quickly recovering and slamming his elbow into Silas's side. A
loud crack echoed through the alley, and Silas felt a sharp pain shoot through
his ribs. His breath hitched.
Ayla,
not willing to stand by any longer, rushed forward, picking up a rusted pipe
lying on the ground. With all her strength, she swung it at the rider's knee,
knocking him off balance. The rider cursed, but Silas didn't hesitate. He
kicked the knife away, grabbed the rider by the collar, and slammed his fist
into the man's jaw. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, and the rider
staggered back.
For
a moment, it looked like Silas had the upper hand. But the rider wasn't
finished yet. With a growl, he charged at Silas again, this time using his full
weight to force Silas against the wall. Silas's head slammed against the
concrete, his vision flickering. He fought to stay conscious, but the pain in
his skull was overwhelming.
"Stay
down," the rider growled, gripping Silas by the throat, his fingers
tightening like a vice. Silas struggled, his hand groping for anything to
defend himself. His vision began to fade as the pressure on his throat
increased.
Ayla
was yelling, but Silas could barely hear her. His world was spinning,
everything blurring together. With his last bit of strength, he reached up and
grabbed the rider's wrist, using all his force to twist the arm holding him.
The rider cried out, but it was too little, too late. Silas drove his knee into
the rider's gut, forcing him to loosen his grip.
Silas's
head spun, but he managed to get to his feet. His hands were shaking, and his
body screamed in pain, but he couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to stop. He
delivered a final punch to the rider's face, knocking him unconscious to the
ground.
Silas
stumbled back, blood dripping from a cut on his forehead. His chest heaved, and
everything felt distant. He barely registered Ayla rushing to his side, her
voice frantic.
"Silas,
we need to go. Now."
But
Silas was fading, his vision dimming. He collapsed to his knees, unable to stay
conscious any longer. The world went black.