There's a saying that a man only harvests what he plants. If that's true, then I've been tilling the wrong soil for years. Every choice, every step forward has tightened the knot around my life. I don't know if I'll ever see the end of this road—and the one promise I can't make is that I'll survive it.
Sleep never really came that night. The hours dragged by with a single thought gnawing at me: tomorrow might be my last day wearing a badge. The idea was terrifying, yet beneath the fear was a strange calm, a cold reassurance whispering that somehow, against all logic, things would be fine. A foolish thought. But it was there.
Midnight proved how wrong I was.
It started with the sound—boots on concrete, too many of them, moving in unison. Then the lights cut out.
"Down!" someone yelled, just as the first door gave way.
Gunfire tore through the silence, sharp and merciless. The room exploded into chaos—glass shattering, walls coughing dust, shadows darting in every direction. We moved on instinct, grabbing what we could, crashing through the back as bullets chewed into the place we'd called safe.
Sarah was right behind me when she screamed.
I turned just in time to see her fall, blood soaking into her side, her face pale under the flickering moonlight. There was no time to think. I dragged her up, my hands slick with her blood, every step a fight against panic and pain. The men were everywhere now, shouting orders, closing in.
We stumbled into the alley, barely staying ahead of the hunt, breaths ragged, hearts hammering like they wanted out of our chests. A final burst of shots chased us into the darkness before the city swallowed us whole.
We escaped—but only just.
Sarah was barely conscious in my arms, her blood warm against my skin, a silent reminder that whatever I'd sown had finally come to collect its due. And as sirens wailed somewhere far behind us, I knew one thing for certain:
By morning, nothing would ever be the same again.
The car rattled as it tore through the empty streets, headlights off, engine humming just low enough to avoid attention. Sarah lay stretched across the back seat, her breaths shallow, every rise of her chest a small victory. Blood soaked into the fabric beneath her.
Serena kept pressure on the wound, her jaw clenched, eyes sharp despite the chaos of the last hour.
"She's losing too much blood," Serena said quietly, not looking up. "We can't keep running like this."
My hands tightened around the steering wheel. "Hospitals are compromised. Every official channel is burned. If we walk her into an ER, we might as well hand her over."
"So what's your plan?" Serena snapped, finally meeting my eyes through the rearview mirror. "Because right now, all I see is you driving us in circles."
I exhaled, slow and controlled. "I know a place. Off the grid. No records, no questions asked. It'll buy us time."
"Time for what?" she asked. "You can't pretend this mission is still the same. They hit us at midnight, Waller. That wasn't a warning—that was an execution attempt."
"I know," I said with a distressed tone "Which means we were right. And that means we can't stop now."
Serena scoffed under her breath. "You're unbelievable."
"Say you're wrong," i replied. "Say they didn't come for us because we're close."
Silence stretched between them, broken only by Sarah's faint groan.
Serena adjusted her grip, softer now. "She didn't sign up for this," she said. "None of us did. Getting her out comes first. Mission or not."
I nodded. "Agreed. Sarah goes dark. New location, new identity if we have to. Once she's stable, she's out."
"And you?" Serena asked.
I didn't hesitate. "I finish this."
Serena shook her head slowly. "You finish this alone and you'll end up dead. That calm you feel? That's not peace—it's acceptance. And I'm not ready to bury you yet."
Hearing what she said made my mouth twitched. "Didn't know you cared that much."
"Don't flatter yourself," she said. "I just hate unfinished business."
I slowed the car as we turned onto an unlit road, the city fading behind us once again.
"Here's how we do it," Serena continued. "We split responsibilities. I get Sarah safe—no digital trail, no familiar faces. You keep digging, but carefully. No more lone-wolf heroics."
I glanced back at Sarah, then at Serena. "And when they realize she's gone?"
"They'll come for you," Serena said plainly. "Which means you become the bait."
I smiled grimly. "Wouldn't be the first time."
Serena leaned back, eyes forward now. "Just make sure it's the last."
As our car disappeared into the darkness, the plan was set—fragile, dangerous, and hanging by a thread. But for the first time since the night began, we weren't just running.
We were moving forward.
I don't know why the thought keeps pressing in on me—that I could do this alone, that with both of them out of the line of fire, the noise in my head would finally quiet down.
"First things first, Alexander," I muttered, the words barely leaving my lips. "The main objective is to find the bartender—without getting caught by the wolf detective, Tina Cole Williams."
The street answered with silence.
I pulled my collar up and melted into the night, every step measured, every breath controlled. This wasn't bravado—it was necessity. Too many people had already paid for my choices. I wasn't adding Serena or Sarah to that list.
The bar sat three blocks down, lights dimmer than they should've been for this hour. That alone told me something was wrong. Places like that either stayed loud or went dark. Half-lit meant fear. It meant someone was waiting.
I circled once, twice, watching reflections in car windows, counting shadows that didn't move when they should've. Tina's style wasn't sloppy. If she was nearby, she wouldn't announce herself. She'd let the city do the work for her.
I slipped through the side entrance, the smell of stale liquor and old regrets hitting me at once. The bartender froze when she saw me—eyes wide, hand instinctively dropping beneath the counter.
"Easy," I said softly. "If I wanted you dead, this place would already be quiet."
She swallowed hard. "You shouldn't be here."
"No," I agreed. "Neither should you. But here we are."
Her gaze flicked past me, toward the door. Not checking for customers—checking for hunters.
"She's looking for you," She whispered.
"I know," I replied. "That's why I came first."
Outside, somewhere in the city, a siren wailed and then died. The kind of sound that meant movement. Pressure. Time running out.
I leaned in closer, lowering my voice. "You're going to tell me everything. Names. Meetings. Who paid you to forget what you heard."
"And if I don't?" Sophia asked, her voice shaking.
I straightened, already listening to footsteps that weren't there a moment ago. "Then the wolf walks in here… and I won't be the most dangerous person in the room anymore."
Sophia's shoulders sagged.
And just like that, the game shifted—because somewhere out in the dark, Tina Cole Williams was closing in, and I had only minutes before she caught my scent.
_____I stayed just long enough for the bartender's fear to crack.
Her name was Sophia as I once knew but now being identified as Lila Cain—not the nervous wreck she pretended to be when the place was crowded, but sharp-eyed, calculating, someone who'd learned how to survive by listening more than she spoke. She wiped her hands on a rag that did nothing to hide the tremor in her fingers.
"You're late," she said quietly.
"And you're scared," I replied. "Which tells me Justin's already talked to you."
Her jaw tightened. "Justin doesn't talk. He orders."
I leaned closer, keeping my voice low. "Then order yourself to stay alive. Start with who's pulling the strings, and tell me where Alexander is."
Sophia hesitated, eyes darting toward the back office. "It's not just local," she whispered. "Alexander is gone but there's a more interesting subject. The money, the protection—it comes from above the city. One name keeps coming up, always through intermediaries. A ghost."
"A ghost has a name," I said.
She swallowed. "Coleman."
The word landed heavy. Too familiar. Too clean.
Before I could push further, a slow clap echoed from behind me.
"Impressive," Justin Bale said as he stepped out of the shadows, suit immaculate, smile empty. "Most people don't get Sophia talking. You always did have a talent for stirring trouble, Waller."
I turned slowly, shocked on how he knows my name."You must be the one who owns the bar. Justin isn't it?You know this isn't a battlefield."
He laughed. "Bars are perfect battlefields. People talk. People forget. People disappear."
Sophia backed away, eyes wide.
"Let her go," I said.
Justin shook his head. "Can't do that. But I can answer your question. Yes—Coleman's behind it. Funding, timing, cleanups. You were never meant to come back to the board."
The floor creaked.
That's when I felt it—the shift in the air.
Justin stepped aside just as a massive figure emerged from the back corridor. Broad shoulders. Cold eyes. Scars that told stories no one survived long enough to repeat.
"Vladimir Mykhailo," Justin said casually. "My partner. He handles… endings."
The first punch came fast. Too fast.
I barely ducked as Vladimir's fist shattered a table behind me. Wood exploded into splinters. I swung back, pain screaming up my arm as my knuckles met bone. He didn't even flinch.
We crashed into the bar, bottles raining down, glass slicing skin. I used speed; he used force. One mistake and it would be over.
"Run if you want to live!" Sophia screamed.
I slammed my elbow into Vladimir's throat, just enough to stagger him, then dove for the door—but Justin was already moving, pulling a pin, smiling like a man who'd accepted his role.
The explosion tore through the bar in a wall of fire and sound.
Heat. Pressure. Darkness.
I don't remember hitting the ground—only waking up choking on smoke, ears ringing, the world burning behind me. The bar was gone. Reduced to fire and rubble.
I crawled. Staggered. Vanished into the night as sirens screamed closer with people scattered around the city streets yelling.
Barely alive.
But now I knew the truth.
And Coleman had just made his biggest mistake—he'd reminded me why I never stop once I start hunting.
I hurriedly got up even if I feel the burn and the pain altogether, running out of the street before the police comes.
This is going to be my peak towards ending it all.