Chapter 3: No Way Out
The Black Swan – 23:50 Hours
Jasper Hawke moved fast, pulling Nadia Petrova along as the two armed men zeroed in on their table. A fight here would be messy. He preferred to avoid unnecessary bloodshed, but the moment the first man reached under his jacket, the decision was made for him.
Hawke reacted instinctively. One step forward, one precise movement. His left hand clamped down on the man’s wrist, stopping him from drawing his weapon, while his right drove a sharp elbow into his throat. The man gagged, staggering backward.
The second attacker went for his gun. Too slow.
Hawke grabbed the first man’s arm, twisted his body, and used him as a human shield. The second man hesitated just a fraction of a second—long enough for Hawke to slam his foot into his knee, sending him crashing into a table.
Chaos erupted. Chairs scraped, bottles shattered, and the low murmur of conversation exploded into shouts.
“Go!” Hawke barked at Nadia.
She didn’t hesitate, moving fast toward the back exit. Hawke followed, but the first man—still coughing—managed to pull a knife.
Bad move.
Hawke grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted hard, forcing the blade loose before slamming his knee into his ribs. The attacker crumpled.
Hawke retrieved the knife, pocketed it, and bolted after Nadia.
Alleyway Behind The Black Swan – 23:55 Hours
The cold air hit them as they emerged into a dimly lit alley. Footsteps thundered behind them—more men, closing fast.
“Where’s your car?” Hawke asked, scanning their surroundings.
“Two streets over,” Nadia panted. “Too far.”
A black SUV screeched to a stop at the alley’s entrance, blocking their escape. Hawke cursed. They had backup.
Nadia’s hand went to the pistol hidden in her coat, but Hawke grabbed her wrist.
“Too many eyes,” he muttered. “We disappear, not fight.”
A rusted fire escape zigzagged up the side of the building. Without a word, he grabbed the bottom rung and pulled himself up.
Nadia followed, moving quickly despite the slippery metal.
Below, the men shouted, then gunfire erupted—bullets tearing into the bricks just inches from their feet.
“Move!” Hawke ordered.
They reached the rooftop and sprinted across, vaulting over ventilation units and antennas. The sound of men climbing after them echoed in the night.
“Jump,” Hawke ordered, pointing to the next rooftop.
Nadia hesitated only for a second before leaping. Hawke followed, landing in a crouch just as more bullets ripped through the air.
No good. Too exposed.
A rooftop door stood slightly open. An exit. Hawke shoved it wide, dragging Nadia inside.
Abandoned Building – 00:05 Hours
They moved fast through the darkened stairwell. Hawke counted the floors. Four levels down, they’d be street-side.
“Who were they?” Nadia whispered, keeping her gun ready.
“No idea, but they were here for us.”
As they reached the ground floor, Hawke slowed. Something felt off. The door leading to the street was slightly ajar.
A trap.
He pulled Nadia back against the wall just as a silencer coughed—a bullet embedding itself in the doorframe where his head had been.
“Damn,” Nadia whispered.
Hawke signaled for her to stay low. One shooter, maybe two. They were professionals—waiting, forcing him to make the first move.
Hawke retrieved the knife he’d taken earlier. A crude weapon against a gun, but in the right hands, deadly.
He moved fast—pushing the door open just enough to slide through the gap. A man stood near a parked car, weapon raised. Hawke didn’t give him a chance.
He closed the distance in three strides, grabbing the gunman’s wrist and yanking him forward. The knife slashed across his forearm, making him drop the silenced pistol.
The second shooter reacted—but too late.
Hawke spun the wounded man around, using him as a shield. A suppressed shot fired, hitting the attacker in the chest instead of Hawke.
The second shooter hesitated—Hawke didn’t. He lunged, ramming the knife under the man’s ribcage. The attacker went down without a sound.
Silence.
Hawke exhaled and retrieved one of the silenced pistols. Now he was armed.
“Clear,” he called to Nadia.
She slipped out, eyes scanning.
“They were waiting,” she murmured. “Someone knew we’d come this way.”
Hawke nodded grimly. That meant one thing.
“Someone in your network sold us out.”
Nadia’s expression darkened.
“And now,” Hawke said, checking the stolen pistol, “we find out who.”
