Chapter 04: The Trap Closes
The chill of the early morning air cut through Hawke’s jacket like a blade, but it wasn’t the cold that made him shiver. It was the creeping certainty that they had walked into a carefully orchestrated ambush. The shadow at the edge of his vision had been no coincidence. Someone—maybe multiple someones—were watching, waiting. The question now wasn’t if the trap would snap shut, but when.
“Stay low,” Hawke muttered, his voice barely a whisper. His eyes never left the villa. The walls, once appearing unassuming, now seemed to pulse with hidden threats, as if the building itself were alive with menace. The corners of the structure hid too many secrets.
Avery crouched beside him, her hand gripping her weapon. She nodded once, her face hard with resolve. Both of them knew they couldn’t afford to make any noise. Even the slightest misstep could set off the chain of events they were desperately trying to avoid.
They moved with precision, taking cover behind the narrow alley walls, always keeping one eye on the villa. The silence between them felt suffocating, filled with the weight of unsaid words and the adrenaline that made their hearts race. The feeling of being watched only grew stronger as they neared the building, the shadows seeming to move on their own.
Hawke’s fingers brushed over the radio at his side. He knew he had to get a signal to the team, but the frequency was clogged. Whoever had set this trap knew exactly how to isolate them. There was no contact, no backup. They were on their own.
They reached the perimeter of the villa. The old stone walls that once offered a sense of seclusion now felt like a cage. Hawke’s trained eyes swept across the landscape, searching for any sign of movement, any flicker of light behind the darkened windows. The quiet was oppressive.
“I don’t like this,” Avery said, her voice tight with tension.
Hawke raised a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. He knew that whatever lay ahead, it was already too late to turn back. They were too deep into this now.
He reached for the door of the villa, testing it with slow, methodical movements. Locked. Of course it was. But the old locks weren’t much of a challenge for him. Within moments, he had it open, the faint click barely audible in the stillness of the morning.
They entered.
Inside, the villa was eerily quiet, the air thick with the scent of stale wood and dust. The hallway stretched out before them like a long, dark tunnel. The silence was deafening, but every step they took felt like an intrusion. This place had secrets, and they were about to unravel them.
Hawke motioned for Avery to take point. She moved with the ease of someone who had spent years operating in the shadows, her footsteps soundless on the polished floors. Every hallway, every corner was a potential deathtrap. They had to be meticulous. One mistake, and it could be over.
“Bishop could be anywhere,” Avery murmured as they moved deeper into the villa. Her eyes flicked to every doorway, every room they passed, each one offering more uncertainty than the last.
“He’s here,” Hawke replied, his voice low, filled with the confidence of a man who had been in this situation too many times. “He’s not alone.”
Ahead of them, a door creaked open.
Hawke’s senses snapped into overdrive. His body went rigid, every muscle primed for action. Avery was already moving, instinctively falling into place beside him.
The door was just slightly ajar, the faintest sliver of light leaking out from the crack. Hawke’s heart rate picked up, but he didn’t let it show. He knew this drill. They couldn’t afford to rush. If it was a trap—and it was—every move had to be deliberate, controlled.
Hawke gestured for Avery to cover him. He pushed the door open, his gun raised, ready for whatever lay beyond. The door swung open fully, revealing a room that was both familiar and foreign. A small study, littered with maps, papers, and what appeared to be a heavy-duty satellite phone on the desk.
But there was something else. A figure in the far corner of the room, standing by a window, silhouetted by the dim light from outside.
Hawke’s grip tightened on the weapon. The figure didn’t move at first, but then, slowly, it turned.
Bishop.
His old colleague stood there, a slight smirk curling the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t wearing his usual tactical gear. Instead, he was in a dark suit, as though he were playing the part of a businessman rather than the rogue agent Hawke had once known.
“You shouldn’t have come,” Bishop said, his voice smooth, almost mocking. The words sent a chill down Hawke’s spine, a confirmation of everything he had feared. Bishop was too calm, too composed.
“Why, Bishop?” Hawke asked, his voice low but steady. “What happened to you? We were on the same side. You were my brother.”
Bishop’s eyes flashed with something—regret? Anger? But it was gone as quickly as it had come. “That was a long time ago, Hawke. You wouldn’t understand. You never did.”
Avery shifted slightly, ready for a fight. Hawke held up a hand, signaling for her to hold off. The tension between him and Bishop crackled in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife.
“What’s the plan, then?” Hawke asked, his tone flat. “What’s this all really about? The Brotherhood? The leaders you’re planning to kill?”
Bishop’s smirk deepened. “The world’s broken, Hawke. It’s fragile. And it needs to be rebuilt. You wouldn’t understand, not unless you see the big picture. But by the time you do, it’ll be too late.”
“Who’s behind all this? Who’s pulling the strings?”
Bishop hesitated. For just a moment, his eyes flicked away, a crack in his otherwise unshakable demeanor. But then he regained his composure. “You’ll find out soon enough. But trust me, you’re too late to stop it. You’re already a part of it.”
The room seemed to close in around Hawke. The walls felt like they were closing in, and every word out of Bishop’s mouth made him more certain that this mission had spiraled out of control in ways he hadn’t anticipated. This wasn’t just a rogue operative. This was a plot that spanned far beyond their comprehension.
“I’ll stop you,” Hawke said, his voice cold and final.
Bishop’s smirk faltered for a moment, and in that fleeting instant, Hawke saw the man he had once known—the idealist, the patriot. The man who had fought by his side in the shadows of countless missions.
But that man was gone now.
“And what will you do when the whole world is against you?” Bishop asked, his eyes narrowing. “When you realize that your hands are already stained?”
Hawke’s grip on his weapon tightened. “I’ll make sure that whatever happens next, you won’t be the one calling the shots.”
A single gunshot rang out, echoing through the stillness of the villa.
But it wasn’t aimed at Hawke.
The trap had closed.
