It was as if the lifeline of a ruby had shattered and melted, spilling its essence into the world. The crimson red liquid pooled across the room, stark against the cold, lifeless floor. Its rich, dark hue spread in jagged streams, weaving its way around debris and pooling in dips and cracks like veins of molten despair.

The air was thick, heavy with a silence that pressed down on all of us. Not a single word was spoken; no one dared to break the stillness. The weight of what we were witnessing—what we had caused, perhaps—was suffocating.

The team stood frozen, each face reflecting a different shade of shock, grief, or disbelief. Weapons lowered, breaths held, and eyes locked on the darkened stain that told a story too vivid to ignore.

It was more than just blood—it was a symbol, a reminder of how fragile everything was, how easily the balance could tip into chaos. A sobering stillness settled in the room, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stand still.

Three Hours Before

After a tense meeting with Hudson and getting back on the road, things were moving smoother than expected. The weight of the upcoming mission still lingered, but for the moment, the silence between us was oddly comforting.

"Bell?" Frank's voice broke the stillness, his tone dark and uncertain.

"Yes, Frank?" I turned back, offering him a small smile despite the heaviness in the air.

"Is Wraith going to comply with this?" His bushy brows were furrowed in concern, his hand absentmindedly scratching at his beard.

I shook my head slowly, my smile fading as I faced forward again. "Most likely not. I've warned you all—she's the devil in disguise. We need to stay sharp."

A deep sigh escaped my lips as I looked ahead, the landscape outside the vehicle passing by in a blur. My mind drifted to memories I'd hoped to bury, things I didn't want to remember about Wraith—the cold, ruthless efficiency with which she worked, the fear she could instill with a single glance.

She was as cold as ice that never thawed, a chilling presence that could freeze a room with her silence. Empathy? Mercy? They were foreign concepts to her. A merciless critic, as people often called her—a woman who would tear you apart with her words before she ever laid a hand on you.

I clenched my jaw as those memories resurfaced, the weight of them making my chest tighten. But I couldn't let the past distract me. Not now.

"Keith's been transferred to witness protection," I added, the words slipping from my mouth almost instinctively. "Hudson said he'll be there until this is possibly over."

The mention of Keith reminded me that we weren't just risking our lives, but his too. His safety had to come first, especially with the ever-present threat of compromise hanging over us. Hudson had assured us that he'd be safe, but we all knew how easily that could change.

Whether this would be over or not was the everlasting question. One we all had running through our minds every day. The uncertainty of it gnawed at us, eating away at the edges of our resolve. Would we succeed? Would we even make it out of this? The unknown stretched out before us, an endless road we had no choice but to walk.

And so, we pushed forward, each of us holding on to whatever hope we could grasp.

The plans had been finalized. The team was in sync, every detail accounted for, every step laid out. We were closing in on Wraith, and I could feel the weight of the mission pressing down on me as we neared our target.

Fear rippled through me with every passing mile, creeping into my bones like cold water. My face drained of colour, my blood felt like it had thickened with ice, and I could feel my body trembling beneath the façade of control I was trying to maintain. This wasn't just another mission. This was it—the moment where everything could change.

"Fifteen minutes until we close in," Mason's voice cut through the quiet of the vehicle, but it didn't ease the tension. If anything, it made it worse.

I glanced at him, trying to steady myself. "Are there many guards around the area?"

"Not that I'm aware of," I replied, my voice betraying the nerves I was struggling to hide. "It's a small village. We should be able to infiltrate if we stay low and keep cool. Last intel said she's on the West side."

Mason nodded, his jaw set, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. He wasn't as calm as he wanted to appear.

The radio crackled to life, Park's voice coming through with the usual professionalism that had become a comforting constant. "Hudson is saying West side of the village, over."

I took a deep breath and clenched my fists at my sides, mentally preparing myself for what was about to come. Every instinct told me that this wouldn't be as easy as it sounded. There were too many variables, too many unknowns. Wraith was always one step ahead, and we had to be ready for anything.

The vehicle rumbled on, the countdown ticking away. It felt like the closer we got, the heavier the air became, thick with the weight of what was at stake. Each minute that passed felt like an eternity.

But there was no turning back now. This was the moment.

I gave a subtle nod to the team, signaling that we were closing in on the position. As we parked, we carefully concealed our weapons, taking every precaution to avoid any unwanted attention. Tension hung in the air, but we all knew we had to stay cool, no matter how high the stakes were.

Hudson stood to my left, his gaze scanning the surroundings, ever watchful. Ad was by his side, his expression unreadable as always. Mason, Frank, and I were on the right, close enough to form a tight unit but spread out just enough to maintain a level of flexibility. Park, Lazar, and Sims were a few feet behind us, maintaining the rear while keeping a sharp eye on everything.

The village was small, quaint almost, and as we moved through it, the sounds of everyday life filled the air. A few curious glances were cast our way as people went about their business, but nothing out of the ordinary. The locals seemed oblivious to the mission we were here to carry out, wrapped up in their own lives—working the fields, tending to children, going about their daily routines.

"Quiet enough village," Mason remarked, scratching his head as he glanced around, the faintest trace of confusion in his voice.

"Why?" Hudson's voice was quiet but pointed, his eyes narrowing just slightly. "What were you expecting?"

Mason shrugged, a little embarrassed. "I don't know. Something more... rowdy? I mean, it's just too calm." His voice trailed off as he chuckled, clearly trying to shake off the unease that came with the stillness of the place.

The rest of us couldn't help but laugh lightly at his comment, the tension breaking momentarily. But Hudson didn't even flinch. His face remained as impassive as ever, as though the moment of levity had never occurred. He was always so composed, his focus sharp, even when the rest of us could afford to relax just a bit.

I exchanged a glance with Ad, and the corners of my mouth twitched upward. It was a small moment of normalcy amidst the gravity of what we were about to do. But as quickly as it came, the laughter faded, and the weight of the mission pressed back down on us.

The village might have seemed calm, but we knew better. Underneath the tranquillity, there was something far more dangerous brewing, something we weren't yet seeing—but we would soon enough.

The village was breath-taking, almost surreal in its beauty. Majestic trees lined the streets, their thick branches casting shadows over the cobblestone paths that wound through the town like veins of history. The buildings were a blend of rustic charm and ancient grandeur, their stone facades weathered by time but still imposing. A soft breeze carried the sweet fragrance of roses and other blooming flowers, their vibrant colours—deep purples, fiery oranges, and bright yellows—dotting the bushes like bursts of life against the stone.

I couldn't help but be drawn in by the beauty of it all. For a moment, the tension that had been gnawing at me eased, and I allowed myself a brief respite, just long enough to take in the serene atmosphere. It was almost peaceful... too peaceful.

We moved through the village, taking our time to observe the surroundings. We were looking for any sign of the Soviets, a dangerous game of hide-and-seek. The village was quiet, but the threat was ever-present.

Then, Lazar's voice cut through the silence, sharp and alert. "Bell, two Soviets at three o'clock."

I snapped my attention to the direction he pointed, eyes narrowing as I located them immediately. Two men, casually walking, unaware of the impending danger they were about to face.

"I see them," I muttered, my voice low. "Everyone, form a barrier around the wall."

We quickly moved into position, surrounding the Soviets without them realizing. Lazar and Sims took the lead, silently approaching the two targets. They moved with precision, quick and clean, taking them out one by one with quiet efficiency. We covered the area, ensuring there were no surprises, while Lazar and Sims expertly hid the bodies before they could be discovered.

"Quick and easy," I said under my breath, glancing around to make sure we weren't attracting attention. "Let's hope that's all there is."

Park groaned, clearly not enjoying the constant tension. "Let's just get this over with."

I couldn't agree more.

There was still a twenty-five-minute walk ahead of us to reach Wraith's location, and there was always the looming possibility that we might encounter more Soviets. The last thing we needed was to draw attention, have them question our group. Every minute felt like an eternity, but we kept moving forward, doing our best to remain inconspicuous.

Miraculously, we passed through the village without any more complications, our progress unchallenged. The air seemed to thicken as we approached the building where Wraith was supposed to be, a cold realization settling in that the most dangerous part of the mission was just about to begin.

There it was. The building, looming ahead of us like a fortress. We had made it this far, but now, the real work was about to unfold. It was time to face Wraith.

My mind raced relentlessly, turning over every detail, every potential mistake I could make. I couldn't afford to screw this up. Not now. Not with everything on the line. This was my chance to prove myself—prove that I belonged in this mission, that I could handle the weight of it all. I could do this. My mind was strong enough to bear it.

I lowered my gaze to the ground, the familiar weight of my 1911 against my hip grounding me, a steady reminder of what I was capable of. The cold steel was my companion in moments like these, a constant that never wavered.

"Just let me handle this," I said, my voice steady despite the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. I could feel the eyes of my team on me, watching, waiting. Without a second thought, I took a step forward, determined to be the one to take control.

The others lowered their guns in unison, a silent show of trust. The building ahead of us was small, barely more than a shack, and the area was eerily quiet. It was hard to believe Wraith was in there, let alone that she might be alone. But that was the intel we had, and now it was time to see if it was true.

Just as I was about to move in, a familiar figure broke through the tension. Russell ran forward toward me with purpose. Without thinking, I collided straight into his arms, the impact so sudden that it stole the breath from my lungs. His arms shook slightly around me, a subtle reminder of how deeply this mission affected him too.

I looked up into his eyes, those bright eyes that always seemed to shine with an unspoken intensity. The sun caught the light, highlighting the warmth in his gaze, a stark contrast to the coldness of what we were about to face.

His lips brushed my forehead, gentle and soft, his voice low and filled with concern. "Please, just... please be careful."

"I'm always careful," I whispered back, my voice soft but confident as I winked at him. It was my way of reassuring him, even if I wasn't sure I could reassure myself.

Before he could respond, Lazar's voice broke the quiet tension with a chuckle. "That's an overstatement, Bell."

I couldn't help but smile at his comment, the lightness in his tone reminding us all to stay grounded. We had to keep our focus, but there was no harm in a little humour to cut the edge.

The moment of levity was brief, though, as we all knew the gravity of the task at hand. We were about to face Wraith—the devil herself—and nothing was guaranteed. But in that moment, surrounded by my team, I knew one thing for sure: I couldn't afford to let them down.

My body felt oddly weightless as I ascended the rusty metal stairs, my every step echoing in the otherwise still air. This place—it was nothing like I expected. What we had thought was a building turned out to be a crude metal tin, its exterior weathered and worn by time. The stairs creaked beneath me as I climbed, their surface covered in rust and old, patterned grooves. The structure felt flimsy and makeshift, more like a hastily constructed shelter than a real safehouse. The building was smaller than we had anticipated, barely more than a box of corrugated metal perched on the edge of this forgotten village.

I glanced down at my 1911, checking the safety, ensuring it was off and that it was fully loaded. There would be no room for mistakes—not here, not now. I couldn't afford a slip-up, not with Wraith waiting on the other side of that door. The eyes of my team were all on me, I could feel their gaze like a weight pressing on my back. It only made my nerves more palpable, more present. I steeled myself, my heartbeat steady despite the tension tightening in my chest.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I could hear the faint sounds of movement inside the room. I exchanged a quick glance with the team below, signalling that it was time. Without hesitation, I barged into the tiny metal box, my eyes immediately locking onto the table at the centre of the room. A small, but significant object sat there—an unassuming gun, but it would be the key to getting control.

Before anyone had time to react, I bolted for the table. My fingers were already reaching for the weapon, but then, I saw her.

There she was. Wraith. She stood with an air of quiet confidence, her merciless eyes locking onto mine as if she had already anticipated our arrival. The coldness in her stare was unnerving, yet it only fuelled the fire burning in me.

"Nice to meet you again, Freya," I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind of thoughts and adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was no fear in my tone, just pure determination. This time, there would be no escape for her.

Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening, the recognition dawning on her face. It was the first sign of vulnerability I'd seen from her. The small, fleeting shock made her momentarily lose composure, but she quickly masked it with that same unyielding, merciless look. She wasn't going down without a fight, but neither was I.

"Nice to meet you again, Bell," Freya's voice was as cold as ever, but there was a flicker of something—maybe hesitation—in her eyes.

"Get on your fucking knees," I commanded, my voice sharp, cutting through the tension that had filled the room. I wasn't here for games, not anymore. Not with someone like her.

I moved quickly, pulling out a set of cuffs, my hands steady as I fastened them around her wrists and chained her to the radiator. The sound of the metal clicking into place echoed in the cramped space. Just as I finished securing her, I heard the familiar heavy steps of Hudson and Adler entering the room.

"Are you okay?" Adler's voice was low, concerned, as he kneeled beside me. His hand rested gently on my back, the touch surprisingly grounding. It brought a sense of reassurance, like I wasn't alone in this moment. His presence had a way of calming the storm in my chest.

"I'm perfect," I replied, looking at Adler, my words laced with sincerity. Despite everything, I felt in control. I felt ready for whatever came next.

The rest of the team filtered into the room, their eyes scanning the surroundings, weapons ready and trained on Freya. To my surprise, the building, despite its small exterior, was larger than it had seemed from the outside. There was room enough for all of us, though it felt claustrophobic as the team crowded into the tin can of a room.

Mason stood just outside the door, keeping a watchful eye on the surroundings, ensuring we wouldn't be blindsided by anyone else. The rest of us kept our guns trained on Freya, making sure she didn't make any sudden movements.

I moved methodically, checking every inch of her belongings, rifling through the pockets of her jacket, her pants. There had to be something—anything—that could give us an edge, something we could use to get more information, to bring this whole operation closer to its end.

My eyes scanned the room, instinctively looking for any potential threats. The space was cramped and cluttered, but nothing seemed out of place. Just as I was about to turn my attention back to Freya, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention.

Something was off. 

I reached into the corner of the room, pulling out a duffle bag that looked worn and heavy with something. The cotton fabric felt rough in my hands as I pulled it toward me, the contents bulging inside. The bag had clearly been shoved carelessly into the corner, hidden away but not enough to go unnoticed by someone who knew what they were looking for.

"Go on, have a look," Freya taunted, a devilish smile playing on her lips. It was the kind of smile that made your skin crawl.

I didn't hesitate. Slowly, deliberately, I unzipped the bag, my fingers brushing against the soft fabric as I carefully opened it. Inside, I found a beige folder, a plain, innocuous thing—but the moment I pulled it out, Russell lunged forward, snatching it from my hands with a speed that startled me.

"HEY!" I shouted, startled by his sudden move. But before I could protest further, a cascade of photos spilled out onto the floor—seven or eight of them, all developed, all recent.

Everyone's faces dropped at once as they took in the sight of the photos. They were all of me. Different angles, different moments—some from a distance, some too close for comfort. The realization hit like a punch to the gut: someone had been tracking me. Watching me. And now it was clear that Freya had known all along.

Russell didn't wait for any explanation. He stormed over to Freya, his eyes burning with anger, and slapped her across the face with a force that made her head snap to the side. Before she could react, he kicked her in the stomach, sending her crashing forward with a groan of sharp pain.

"You think this is a game?" Russell snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me why you're still after Bell, and why someone's been taking photos of her. You tell me the right story, and maybe you'll get to live." His voice dropped, turning into a cold, menacing whisper. "Tell me wrong, and I'll make sure you feel every bullet go through you before you bleed out."

"Russell..." Hudson's voice was firm, but not unkind, as he laid a hand on Russell's shoulder. It was a gesture meant to stop him, to remind him of the line we had to walk. But Russell shrugged his hand off, his focus entirely on Freya.

She didn't flinch. Not an inch. Her eyes were cold, calculating, even in the face of the aggression before her. She was a stone wall, unwilling to break under pressure.

Russell stood tall, glaring down at her, but there was something in Wraith's voice when she spoke next that caught my attention. "You're smart, Bell," she said, turning her gaze to me. "Just like me. You'll figure it out."

I shook my head, the anger boiling inside me now. "Don't ever compare yourself to me again," I growled, hunkering down beside Freya, my face inches from hers. I met her eyes, feeling the weight of her dark, devilish gaze lock onto mine.

Not a hint of remorse. Not even a flicker of fear. She was a force of nature, like a storm that couldn't be contained.

The room was heavy with the unspoken question that hung between us: What was she really after? And who was behind this twisted game?

We weren't going to let her go until we had answers. But the longer I stared into those eyes, the more I realized that getting the truth from Freya was going to take more than just threats. She was playing a much deeper game than any of us had anticipated.

"Who has been taking these photos?" I asked, my voice steady, though my mind was racing. My eyes were locked on one of the photos—me loading the truck with bags, a mundane moment I remembered all too clearly. It had been recent, maybe two weeks ago. Nothing special, yet the idea that someone had been watching me made it feel like a trap.

Freya's smirk never faltered as she leaned back slightly, her cold eyes never leaving mine. "Heard of a man named Keith?" she asked, her voice dripping with amusement.

The room fell into an immediate, heavy silence. The air thickened, and everyone exchanged uneasy glances, as though the mention of the name had the power to freeze the very atmosphere around us.

Keith.

I could feel the tension spreading like wildfire, creeping into every corner of the room. The name hit hard.. He was someone we knew. Someone we had trusted, and took in to help us.

Freya's smirk only grew wider, relishing in the chaos she had just unleashed. She knew what that name meant, knew the weight it carried.

I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as the pieces started to fall into place, but the puzzle was still incomplete. Keith...

I tried to steady my breathing, keeping my focus. "Keith," I muttered, tasting the name like ash in my mouth. "What's he got to do with this?"

Freya didn't answer immediately. She let the question hang in the air, her gaze never leaving mine, her smirk still firmly in place. It was almost as though she was enjoying the discomfort in the room, watching it build like a storm just before it broke.

Hudson, Mason, and Adler exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. We all knew Keith's name, but the implications of his involvement were still unclear, and the fact that Freya was so willing to throw it into the open made everything feel ten times more dangerous.

Finally, Freya spoke, her voice soft but cutting. "Keith's been feeding me information. Everything from your moves to your weaknesses. He's been keeping tabs on you all. He was always so good at hiding in plain sight."

A wave of disbelief swept over the team. Keith had always been one of the quiet ones—trustworthy, reliable. He'd been in the background, doing his job with no questions asked. Or so we thought.

I could feel the anger building inside me. Keith had sold us out. And now, Freya, this merciless woman, had been pulling the strings all along.

"Why?" I forced the word through clenched teeth, the question hanging in the air. "Why the hell would he do this?"

Freya's eyes sparkled with a dark amusement. "Some people are more interested in survival than loyalty. Keith knew where the power was, and he made his choice."

I stood up slowly, feeling the weight of Freya's words settling on my shoulders. This was a game I hadn't expected to play, and I wasn't sure how deep the betrayal ran. Keith wasn't just some informant anymore. He was a part of something much larger, something dangerous.

And now, it seemed like the walls were closing in on us, and I had no idea who I could really trust anymore.

The weight of the realization crashed down on me like a tidal wave. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, the air thick with tension and disbelief. Keith... he'd been a part of our team, trusted, someone we thought had our backs. And now, he was the enemy. It felt like everything I knew was flipping upside down in an instant.

"Mason!" Hudson's voice cut through the fog of my thoughts, and I jumped, the sharpness of his tone snapping me back to reality. Russell was already beside me, his hand gently resting on my back, sensing the shift in my body as my entire world seemed to crumble.

"We've had Keith on our team for nearly a month. Those photos are two weeks old." The words left my mouth without me realizing how heavy they would be. Each syllable felt like a knife twisting in my chest, and I knew—we all knew—how deep the betrayal went. It wasn't just Freya pulling the strings; Keith had been feeding her information, playing us like pawns, and we never saw it coming.

Mason walked into the room, his expression instantly dropping when he read the atmosphere. He didn't need to hear the full story. The look in our eyes was enough.

"Get Black on the phone and get Keith arrested right now! We've been compromised." Hudson's voice was urgent, sharp with the sting of betrayal. His feet were already moving before the words were even fully out of his mouth, and he was gone in an instant, doing everything he could to help contain the situation.

I felt frozen, as if the world had shifted beneath my feet, and I was left to scramble for footing. My chest felt tight, constricted as I tried to process it all. Keith—he'd been a mole. He'd been gathering intel for Freya, maybe even Stitch. We'd welcomed him in, trusted him, and he'd repaid us with lies. He'd betrayed us when we needed him most.

Russell moved closer, his eyes searching mine, reading the dread in my expression. He didn't say anything at first, just stood by my side, a silent presence of comfort. But even his presence couldn't fully fill the void I felt.

"This can't be happening," I muttered, almost to myself, trying to shake the disbelief that had taken root in my mind. "We took him in. We trusted him."

Russell's hand found mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We'll fix this. We'll get through this."

But I wasn't sure how. How could we recover from this? Keith had gotten close to all of us—too close. How much damage had been done? How much had he already told Freya, or worse, Stitch? The thought gnawed at me. There were too many unanswered questions, and I could feel the panic rising in my chest again.

Hudson's voice brought me back. "Bell, are you good?"

I turned to face him, forcing myself to swallow the anxiety. "I... I will be. We just need to move quickly. If Keith is already in contact with Freya, or anyone else from that side, we're already too late."

Hudson nodded grimly. "We won't let it go that far. We take care of this now, before it gets worse." His tone was firm, determined, but I could still see the worry in his eyes. He was just as shaken as the rest of us.

Hudson's words echoed in my mind. Get Keith arrested. That was the only way forward now. We had to contain the damage. But even as I tried to calm myself, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were already too far behind. The trust we'd built, shattered in an instant. The team we had been, fractured.

And there was no going back.

"How could we have been this fucking stupid?" Frank's voice cracked with fury as he slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a dent in the drywall.

The anger coursing through me felt like an electric current, sharp and relentless. I could feel it in every muscle, every nerve. We were all in the same storm of rage, but Mason's absence was like a weight pressing down on all of us. Frank's hand was heavy on my shoulder, a silent anchor in the chaos.

Then, the flashbacks came. They hit me with the force of a wrecking ball, crashing through my mind. My vision blurred, and the ground beneath me seemed to shift. I felt like I was going to collapse at any moment. "Russell!" Frank's voice was a distant shout as I staggered, my balance slipping away. The world spun around me, memories distorting like a funhouse mirror. Every inch of my body felt like it was being torn apart. Phantom cuts seared through my skin, and I swore I could feel Stitch's blade cutting into me over and over again, like a cruel echo.

Frank's grip tightened around me, holding me up as the room spun in dizzying circles. His hand brushed my hair away from my face as I swayed, trying to regain control. Nothing about this felt real. It was as if the pain from the past was crawling back into my body, relentless and unforgiving.

"Shit, Bell." Russell's voice broke through the fog of confusion, and before I knew it, his arms were around me, grounding me, even as the chaos raged inside me.

"Aw, look at you," Freya's voice rang out from behind us, dripping with mockery. I turned my head, and there she was, her smirk wide and unbothered. "Still haunted by all those cuts and bruises?" she taunted, her laughter ringing through the room. But then, something strange happened—a faint click echoed in my right ear.

My heart stopped. My body froze in an instant, every muscle locking in terror.

"If you had just given us two more days, Bell," Freya's voice was cold now, the playful edge gone. "We were going to kill every single one of you. But your precious little toy boys here just had to ruin it all. You should consider yourself lucky you got to me first, because, god, did I have plans. Plans to make sure you felt every ounce of pain I could dish out."

Before I could even react, before I could shout, or hold Russell back, Freya's face twisted into something darker. A sharp glint of metal caught my eye—she had a pocket knife embedded in her chest. The cruel irony of it hit me like a punch to the gut.

The room fell deathly silent.

It was as if a part of Ruby had just shattered—a piece of her life force crumpling away. The blood, dark and vivid, spread across the floor like a twisted pool, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight.

The team stood frozen, the weight of the moment settling over us like a heavy, suffocating fog. No one moved, no one spoke. The silence was deafening, but in the midst of it, I could still hear the faint ringing in my ears, the blood pulsing in my veins.