Chapter 01: The Betrayer
Jasper Hawke’s boots landed softly on the snow-dusted rooftop, a perfect landing. He barely made a sound, his movements calculated, precise—just the way he liked them. The city stretched out before him like an intricate puzzle, each building a piece in the grand, deceptive design of the urban sprawl. Below, the night buzzed with the hum of life—unaware, untouchable.
The mission was simple. At least, it had been when he received the briefing. His target was a safe house tucked in the heart of a quiet neighborhood, an isolated structure with no windows, only the cold stone and steel walls to hide behind. A rogue operative from Hawke’s former agency, now gone rogue, and it was Hawke’s job to neutralize him.
But the moment he arrived, the quiet started to crack. Something wasn’t right.
He crouched behind the air conditioning unit, peering through the lens of his scope. His eyes darted over the house, scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. He hadn’t been on the job long enough to be paranoid, but there was a gnawing sensation in the back of his mind, something that told him to trust his instincts.
A flicker caught his eye. A figure moved across the window. Too quick. Too careful.
No one had seen him yet. He took the opportunity to slip into the shadows, his body melding with the night. As he approached the back door, his fingers brushed the cool metal of the handle. Silent. Controlled. He could feel the pulse of the mission echo through his veins.
The door swung open with barely a creak.
Inside was nothing like the usual safe houses he was used to. The walls were adorned with stark, black-and-white photographs of world leaders and politicians. A map on the far wall was littered with pins, strings, and notes. It wasn’t a safe house. It was a planning ground. A command center. This wasn’t just about a rogue agent—it was about something much bigger.
And just as Hawke began to analyze the room, something struck him from behind.
A blow to the head. He crumpled to the floor, his vision swimming in a blur of colors. Before he could regain control, a cold hand gripped his neck, lifting him to his feet.
“Did you really think it would be that easy, Hawke?” The voice was chilling. Too familiar.
Hawke’s heart skipped a beat, though his face remained stone-cold. “Bishop,” he rasped, struggling against the grip.
The name sent a shiver down his spine. Bishop. His former colleague. The man who knew his every move, every weakness. They had fought side by side, trained together. Trusted each other. Until the betrayal.
Bishop’s grip tightened, his cold breath brushing Hawke’s ear. “You should have stayed out of it, Hawke. You never know when to walk away.”
The words hit like a punch. Bishop had always been the better agent—the more ruthless one, the more calculated. Hawke had followed his lead back then, but he had never expected this. Not from Bishop.
“What’s the plan?” Hawke gritted through clenched teeth. He couldn’t afford to show weakness, not now. He had to stay focused.
Bishop’s laugh was dark, full of contempt. “You’ve already seen enough. No one gets to leave once they know too much.”
Hawke’s mind raced. The man standing before him wasn’t just a rogue agent anymore. He was part of something much larger—something dangerous. The pieces clicked together in an instant, the vague warning signs from his briefing falling into place.
An assassination plot. World leaders. War.
Bishop wasn’t rogue. He was orchestrating something, and Hawke had stumbled into it, just like he had back in the old days.
Before he could react, Bishop slammed him against the wall, knocking the breath out of him. “I should have killed you years ago, Hawke,” he muttered, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction.
But Hawke wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. His training kicked in—his hands shot forward, grasping at Bishop’s wrist with a vice-like grip. With one swift move, Hawke twisted, flipping Bishop onto the floor. Before the man could recover, Hawke stood over him, gun drawn, ready to end it.
But something held him back. A flicker of hesitation.
This wasn’t just about Bishop anymore. It was about a threat that went beyond their personal history. The lives of millions hung in the balance.
“You’re too deep in this, Bishop,” Hawke said, his voice a low growl. “Tell me who’s behind it. We can stop this.”
Bishop’s eyes darkened with a look that made Hawke’s blood run cold. “You really don’t get it, do you?” He laughed, a hollow, bitter laugh. “You’re already too late.”
In a flash, Hawke’s senses went into overdrive. He saw it—the reflection of a shadow in the corner of the room. He didn’t think, just moved. Rolling to the side, he dodged the incoming shot, the bullet tearing through the air where his head had been.
The force of the blast threw him off balance, but Hawke was already on his feet, pulling his gun up. The shooter emerged from the shadows, another agent—an unknown face, but one filled with the same cold calculation as Bishop.
“Get down!” Hawke barked as the agent fired again, narrowly missing him.
Without hesitation, Hawke lunged forward, closing the distance in a single stride. He knocked the agent’s gun aside, using the momentum to throw him into the wall. The agent crumpled to the floor, unconscious. But Hawke knew the fight was far from over.
Bishop was gone. Slipping into the darkness like a shadow.
With a curse under his breath, Hawke grabbed his gear and bolted from the building. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of what he had seen—world leaders in danger, a conspiracy that ran deep, and an enemy that was far more insidious than anyone had ever suspected.
And the worst part? It all had ties to his past. Bishop was only the beginning. The trail was about to get a whole lot darker.
Hawke’s mission had just become personal.
