The city never really slept, but that night it felt restless.
Kevin and Shalom moved through back streets and narrow alleys, avoiding lights, avoiding cameras, avoiding anything that could reflect their faces. Kevin's arm was bleeding, not badly, but enough to slow him down. Shalom noticed anyway.
"You're hurt," she said, gripping his sleeve.
"I've been worse," he replied.
"That's not the point."
He didn't answer. He was too busy listening—counting footsteps that weren't there, engines that slowed too much, the hum of something above them.
Drones.
"They're tracking us," he said quietly.
Shalom's stomach dropped. "Already?"
Kevin nodded. "Victor doesn't wait."
They ducked into an abandoned shop, the metal gate half-broken, graffiti covering the walls. Kevin locked it from the inside and pulled the blinds down.
For a moment, they just stood there, breathing hard.
Then Shalom laughed.
It came out sharp and broken, like she couldn't stop it even if she tried.
"We really did it," she said. "We crossed the line."
Kevin leaned against the wall and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. "We burned it."
She crouched in front of him, her hands shaking as she checked his wound.
"You didn't have to," she whispered.
"Yes, I did."
"No," she said, eyes glossy. "You could've chosen them."
Kevin looked at her then—really looked at her.
"And lose you?" he asked. "That was never a real option."
She swallowed hard and looked away.
Across the city, Victor Kane stood in front of the Obsidian Council.
The room was colder than usual. No one spoke. They didn't need to.
Victor broke the silence.
"Reaper has gone rogue," he said calmly.
A low murmur spread.
"He attacked internal command," Victor continued. "Disrupted operations. Assisted a compromised operative."
"So he's a traitor," one council member said.
Victor nodded. "Yes."
Another voice spoke. "Publicly?"
Victor paused for just a moment.
"Yes," he said. "Make it official."
The screen behind him lit up.
OBSIDIAN DIRECTIVE — GLOBAL
TARGET: KEVIN BLACKWOOD (REAPER / EXECUTOR)
STATUS: TRAITOR
CLEARANCE: TERMINATE ON SIGHT
Victor folded his hands.
"Let the hunt begin."
Kevin felt it before the alert even came through.
His burner phone vibrated once, then again, then wouldn't stop.
He checked it.
And froze.
Shalom leaned closer. "What is it?"
He turned the screen toward her.
Her breath caught.
"They made it public," she whispered.
Kevin nodded. "Which means every operative wants my head."
"And mine," she added quietly.
He reached for her hand. "I won't let them take you."
She squeezed his fingers. "We won't let them take us."
They didn't stay long.
Staying was death.
Kevin led them through underground routes only a handful of Circle operatives knew—old tunnels, forgotten safe paths, places that had been erased from official records years ago.
"You planned this," Shalom said as they moved.
"I planned for betrayal," Kevin replied. "Just didn't expect to be on this side."
They emerged near the docks before dawn.
The air smelled like oil and salt.
Kevin stopped suddenly.
"What?" Shalom asked.
He raised a finger.
Footsteps.
Three sets.
Too calm.
Too confident.
"Run," he whispered.
They broke in opposite directions without thinking.
Gunfire erupted.
Kevin rolled behind a container, firing back. Shalom slid across the ground, pain flaring in her side, but she kept moving.
One of the attackers dropped.
Then another.
The third retreated.
Silence followed.
Kevin stood slowly, chest heaving.
"They're testing," he said. "Seeing how we move."
Shalom wiped blood from her lip. "Then let's give them something to study."
By morning, the city knew.
Screens flickered with rumors. Underground networks buzzed.
Reaper has fallen.
The Circle eats its own.
No one is untouchable anymore.
Kevin watched it all from a cracked tablet in an abandoned boat cabin.
"They'll turn this into a story," he said. "Paint me as a monster."
Shalom sat beside him. "Aren't you?"
He smiled faintly. "Only when necessary."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "What do we do now?"
Kevin stared out at the water.
"We disappear," he said. "And we fight back quietly."
She looked up. "Against the Circle?"
"Yes."
She hesitated. "We can't beat them head-on."
"I know," Kevin said. "But we can make them bleed."
Elena Cross watched the directive appear from a hidden terminal.
She didn't look surprised.
"About time," she muttered.
She encrypted a message and sent it on a channel only a few people still knew existed.
ELENA: You're officially dead now. Both of you.
The reply came minutes later.
KEVIN: Good.
Elena smiled.
ELENA: I know a place. Not safe. Just forgotten.
Night fell again.
Kevin and Shalom moved under cover of darkness toward a location Elena had sent—far outside the city, deep into territory the Circle had abandoned years ago.
"You trust her?" Shalom asked.
Kevin nodded. "As much as anyone still alive."
They reached the edge of a ruined compound just before dawn.
Kevin stopped.
Something felt wrong.
Then the lights snapped on.
Floodlights.
Weapons.
Figures stepping out of the shadows.
Kevin cursed under his breath.
Shalom raised her gun. "Set-up?"
"No," Kevin said slowly.
The figures stepped closer.
They weren't Circle soldiers.
They were operatives.
Former ones.
Scarred. Armed. Watching.
A tall woman stepped forward.
"You're Kevin Blackwood," she said.
"And you're Shalom."
Shalom stiffened. "Who are you?"
The woman smiled grimly.
"Someone the Circle tried to erase," she said. "Just like you."
Kevin felt something shift.
"How many of you?" he asked.
"Enough," she replied. "And more who'd join."
She tilted her head.
"The Circle made a mistake," she said. "They turned you into a symbol."
Kevin exchanged a look with Shalom.
For the first time since running, something unfamiliar stirred.
Hope.
Above them, far away, Obsidian satellites adjusted their orbit.
The war had started.