"Someone's coming."
Erion crouched, sliding the dead man's pistol into his pocket.
Beretta 92. Nice. A small smirk formed then back to his calm expression, calculating every possible scenario.
"Cover your ears."
The order left no room for hesitation. Evah obeyed, pressing her palms against her head just as the first footsteps burst through the entrance.
Gunfire erupted.
Relentless. Precise. Merciless.
Evah curled in on herself, every shot drilling into her bones. She counted in her head—one… two… three… four… five… Each blast was a reminder of how fragile life was in this place.
Gunshots were louder than she imagined from the movies.
Away from her view, Erion raised his arms, two handguns blazed in his grip, one in each hand, every shot steady, measured, absolute. His cold blue eyes glowed faintly in the dark—burning like fire against the night.
Each shot precise, each bullet claiming its mark. Headshots, clean and merciless, not a single round wasted. He absorbed the recoil with practiced ease, movements sharp yet effortless, as if violence itself bent to his will.
Six. Seven. Eight . Each shot rang out like a verdict, each strike final. He moved like a shadow given form, fluid and merciless, never missing, never faltering.
And then—silence.
The stillness pressed down like a heavy shroud, suffocating and absolute. The acrid tang of gunpowder clung to the air, sharp and undeniable, as the echoes of death slowly faded into the night.
And then—silence.
Her lips parted in a shaky whisper. "Erion?!"
"I'm here," his steady voice answered from across the room. "Don't open your eyes. Reinforcements are coming."
Erion positioned himself against the wall, every muscle coiled, his ears tuned to the faintest sound. His eyes swept the dim warehouse, tracing every shadow, every corner—each one a potential threat. Outside, the operation was already in motion. All that remained was patience.
It will be over soon.
The knocks came again—sharp, deliberate. A pattern only his own would use. Recognition flickered in his eyes. The Order
Without hesitation, he surged into motion, boots striking the ground in quiet bursts. He reached the opposite door, muscles tense, and shoved the old furniture aside as if it weighed nothing.
His voice cut through the stillness—cold, commanding. "Get in."
The door swung wide, revealing ten soldiers in teal-green uniforms. Their presence filled the warehouse like a wall of iron.
The leader, broad-shouldered and scarred, stepped forward. Badges glittered on his chest.
"Major General." His salute was sharp. "The operation is complete. No casualties on our side. No survivors among them."
"Proceed," Erion ordered coldly. "Clean up before anyone outside notices."
Evah froze.
Her chest tightened as realization settled in.
Erion wasn't just some stranger who'd stumbled into this nightmare. He was part of them.
The Grand Covenant Order.