Chapter 2: Into the Fire
Belgrade, Serbia – 23:10 Hours
The city sprawled before him like a labyrinth of dimly lit streets and ancient buildings, where shadows stretched long, and danger lurked in every corner. Jasper Hawke adjusted his collar as he stepped off the train at Belgrade Central Station, blending into the late-night crowd.
The mission was simple on paper—find Nadia Petrova, confirm Elias Kosta’s allegiance, and eliminate him if necessary. But Hawke knew better than to trust simplicity. Nothing in his line of work was ever simple.
A black sedan idled at the curb. Hawke scanned the driver—a wiry man with a scar above his left eye, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
Hawke slid into the passenger seat without a word.
“You’re early,” the driver muttered in Serbian-accented English.
“I don’t like being late,” Hawke replied.
The driver smirked, pulled into traffic, and handed Hawke an untraceable phone. “Petrova says to meet her at a bar called The Black Swan. She’ll make contact there.”
“Security?” Hawke asked.
The driver shrugged. “It’s a den for criminals and spies. Everyone carries a weapon.”
Hawke pocketed the phone and leaned back. This was going to be fun.
The Black Swan – 23:45 Hours
The bar smelled of cheap whiskey, cigarette smoke, and bad decisions. Low lighting masked the faces of patrons who had no interest in being recognized. Hawke stepped inside, scanning the room.
A woman sat alone in a booth at the back—Nadia Petrova.
She had raven-black hair, sharp green eyes, and the posture of someone who had seen too much but let nothing slip. A former intelligence asset, she knew the game well.
Hawke approached, slid into the seat opposite her.
“You’re late,” she murmured, sipping her drink.
“Good things take time,” Hawke replied.
She smirked, then leaned in. “Word is, you’re hunting Kosta.”
“You have a lead?”
She exhaled, glancing around before slipping a flash drive into his hand.
“He’s meeting with an arms dealer tomorrow night. Warehouse, District 11.”
Hawke’s eyes narrowed. “And you trust this intel?”
She leaned closer. “I trust nothing in this city. But if Kosta is selling secrets, you need to move fast.”
Hawke tapped his fingers against the table, considering. “You’re in deep on this. Why help me?”
She smiled faintly. “Because if Kosta lives, I die.”
Hawke met her gaze. Fair enough.
A sudden shift in the bar’s atmosphere sent his instincts flaring. The door opened, and two men entered—hard eyes, military stance, armed under their jackets.
Nadia whispered, “We need to leave. Now.”
Hawke didn’t hesitate. He slid out of the booth, pulling Nadia with him, just as the first man reached for his weapon.
The night had just turned deadly.
