Chapter 8: Ghosts in Prague
Prague, Czech Republic – 04:20 Hours
The narrow streets of Old Town were nearly empty at this hour, save for the occasional drunk tourist stumbling out of a late-night bar. A light drizzle misted the air, turning the cobblestone streets slick underfoot.
Hawke and Nadia moved quickly, keeping to the shadows. Their escape across the border had bought them time, but not much. Keaton’s team would be relentless.
The safehouse was in Malá Strana, an old district across the river, tucked between centuries-old buildings. Bishop had sent coordinates to a nondescript apartment above a café.
Hawke kept an eye on reflections in shop windows, scanning for tails. “We’ll stay here until we get exfil.”
Nadia nodded but kept her voice low. “You trust Bishop?”
Hawke considered that. “I trust that he wants me alive—for now.”
Nadia wasn’t convinced. “This whole thing feels off. Someone inside your agency sold us out.”
Hawke’s jaw tightened. She was right.
Someone had known exactly where they would be. Someone had made sure Keaton was one step ahead.
And Hawke was going to find out who.
The Safehouse
The apartment was small, sparse. One window, a battered couch, and a cheap metal table.
Hawke checked the perimeter before locking the door. He didn’t expect the safehouse to last long—it was just a place to regroup.
Nadia sank into the couch, rubbing her temples. “What’s the next move?”
Hawke pulled out his phone and placed it on the table. “Bishop will call soon. But first—”
He took apart the phone, pulling out the battery and SIM card. He wasn’t taking any chances.
Instead, he reached for a burner phone stashed in a cabinet and dialed.
It rang twice before Bishop answered.
“Tell me you’re somewhere safe.”
Hawke kept his voice even. “For now.”
A pause. Then Bishop said, “Listen carefully. You’ve got less than twelve hours before every agency in Europe locks down Prague.”
Hawke already knew that. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
Bishop’s voice lowered. “Keaton isn’t the only one looking for you.”
Hawke’s pulse slowed. “Who else?”
Bishop hesitated. “I can’t confirm yet. But I intercepted chatter. A high-level contract just went out. A kill order.”
Hawke glanced at Nadia. “Any idea who signed off on it?”
Bishop exhaled. “That’s the problem. The authorization came from inside your agency.”
A cold realization settled in. Someone high up wanted Hawke dead.
“Get me an exfil route,” Hawke said.
Bishop hesitated again. “There’s a problem with that.”
Hawke’s patience thinned. “Then fix it.”
“I’m trying,” Bishop said. “But your agency isn’t just tracking you. They’ve flagged any exfil requests under your name. Meaning—”
“I’m cut off,” Hawke finished.
“Exactly.”
Nadia frowned. “So what do we do?”
Bishop’s voice lowered. “You need to go dark. Now.”
Hawke understood. No safehouses. No contacts. No digital footprint.
For the first time in his career, he was alone.
The Setup
Hawke ended the call and turned to Nadia. “We don’t wait for exfil. We move.”
Nadia nodded. “Where?”
“Out of the city.”
Prague was crawling with surveillance. The longer they stayed, the more vulnerable they became.
Nadia’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her expression darkened.
“What is it?” Hawke asked.
She flipped the phone around. A live feed of a news report.
Hawke’s face filled the screen.
The anchor’s voice was steady.
“Authorities are searching for two fugitives connected to an international assassination plot. Sources claim one of the individuals is a former intelligence operative.”
Then, Keaton appeared on the screen.
“These individuals are armed, highly dangerous, and have compromised national security. If spotted, do not engage—report to authorities immediately.”
Hawke’s fists clenched.
Nadia locked eyes with him. “They just burned you.”
Hawke exhaled slowly. He had expected something like this, but not so soon.
Now, he wasn’t just hunted.
He was a wanted man.
No Way Out
Hawke moved to the window. A black sedan sat parked across the street. Two men inside.
“We’ve got company.”
Nadia checked. “They don’t look like cops.”
“No.” Hawke pulled his sidearm. “They’re waiting for us to run.”
They had two options.
1. Escape through the back alley and risk an ambush.
2. Take the fight to them.
Hawke made his decision.
He chambered a round.
“Let’s send them a message.”
Nadia grinned. “I like the way you think.”
Hawke cracked the door open, breathing in the cool air.
This was it.
The next few minutes would determine if they made it out of Prague alive.
And Hawke wasn’t planning on dying tonight.
