Chapter 4: The Hunter’s Instinct
The alley was a trap, boxed in on three sides, with Karim’s men blocking the only visible exit. The SUV’s engine idled, its headlights spilling harsh white light onto the ancient stone walls. The men inside weren’t here to negotiate.
Jasper Hawke kept moving. Stopping meant dying.
His mind worked fast. There was no cover, no time to double back. The only way out was through.
He turned to Idris. “You know another way?”
Idris hesitated, glancing at the armed men advancing toward them. “There’s a passage beneath the spice market—leads to the port.”
Jasper nodded. “Then run.”
Idris opened his mouth to protest, but Jasper was already raising his weapon.
Three hostiles. Well-trained. Moving in a coordinated line. Their posture was too disciplined for street muscle. These weren’t just Karim’s men. They were professionals.
Jasper squeezed the trigger.
His first shot struck the lead man in the chest, sending him sprawling. The second and third fired back, bullets tearing into the stone walls around him. He ducked, pivoting behind a stack of wooden crates as splinters exploded into the air.
“Move!” he barked at Idris.
The informant hesitated only a second before sprinting toward the spice market. Jasper laid down covering fire, forcing the remaining gunmen to take cover behind their SUV. Then he bolted.
The alley opened into a bustling market square, the air thick with the scent of saffron, cumin, and grilled lamb. Merchants shouted in Arabic, oblivious to the chaos unfolding in the shadows.
Jasper grabbed Idris and pulled him into a narrow shop packed with burlap sacks of spices. The shopkeeper opened his mouth in protest, but one look at Jasper’s gun silenced him.
“Where’s the passage?” Jasper demanded.
Idris shoved aside a heavy wooden crate, revealing a rusted metal grate in the floor. He yanked it open, revealing a dark tunnel.
“Go.” Jasper motioned Idris inside, then turned back.
A shadow passed in front of the shop. The gunmen were here.
Jasper ducked behind a shelf just as the first man entered. His steps were cautious, his silenced pistol sweeping the room.
Jasper struck fast. A quick step forward, an elbow to the throat, then a sharp twist of the wrist—disarming him before he could react. He drove the man’s own weapon into his ribs and pulled the trigger.
The second gunman reacted too late. Jasper pivoted, firing two clean shots before the man could raise his weapon.
Silence.
Jasper exhaled and grabbed a fresh magazine from one of the fallen men. Then he slid into the tunnel, pulling the grate shut behind him.
Beneath Tangier
The tunnel was damp and narrow, its walls lined with ancient stone. Jasper’s boots splashed in shallow puddles as he moved forward. Idris was ahead, breathing heavily.
“How much farther?” Jasper asked.
“Not far,” Idris panted. “The tunnel leads to the docks.”
Jasper nodded, but something felt off.
They weren’t alone.
A faint scuff echoed behind them. Not rats. Footsteps.
Jasper turned, raising his gun just as a figure emerged from the darkness.
Not a gunman. Someone else.
A woman.
She stepped forward, the faint glow of a distant light catching her face. Her features were sharp, her dark eyes coldly assessing. She held no weapon—at least, none that he could see.
Jasper didn’t lower his gun.
“Who are you?”
The woman smirked. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
Her accent was crisp. British.
Jasper’s grip tightened. “Answer me.”
She raised her hands slightly. “Easy, Hawke. I’m not your enemy.”
The way she said his name sent alarm bells ringing in his head.
Idris looked between them, confused. “You know each other?”
Jasper kept his gaze locked on her. “No. But she knows me.”
The woman’s smirk didn’t fade. “You’re in deep, agent. And if you want to stay alive, you’re going to need my help.”
Jasper wasn’t in the habit of trusting strangers.
But something told him this woman wasn’t a stranger to the game.
And that meant she was dangerous.
