3.The Crimson target

..."The fog hides the hunter, the hides the scream,...

...On the edge of the water, we wake from the dream....

...A killer’s red mark, a sniper’s cold breath,...

...We run through the silence, in the shadow of death....

...The night was bitter, a hollow chill that seemed to seep into my very bones. The wind cut through the city like a silent blade, carrying with it the damp, salty scent of the Thames. I stood on the edge of London Bridge, the heavy wool of my coat offering little protection against the freezing air that whistled through the iron railings....

...​Julian was already there. He looked like a ghost, a dark silhouette carved against the thick, swirling fog. He was staring down into the churning, black water below, his back to me. For a moment, he looked vulnerable, but I knew better than to trust the stillness of a predator....

​“You’re here,” he said. He didn’t turn around, but his voice was barely audible over the mournful howl of the wind.

“Why you call me here, Julian?” I demanded, my voice trembling not from the cold, but from the raw fury simmering in my chest. My fingers were white knuckled, buried deep in my pocket around the cold hilt of the silver dagger. It was my only comfort in this desolate place.

​“To tell you the truth,” he replied. He finally turned, and for a fleeting, terrifying second, I saw something I never expected to find in Julian Thorne’s gaze. It wasn't guilt, and it wasn't arrogance. It was fear. A deep, flickering dread that mirrored my own.

​“Then tell me or stop wasting my time!” My voice was soft, a dangerous whisper that felt like a cold blade pressed against his heart. “My father is dead, Julian. You had the letter. You have the secrets. Talk, before I decide that I’ve heard enough.” Julian took a step closer, his presence overwhelming. I could smell the fresh rain on his coat and the faint, bitter scent of the tobacco he favored.

“The truth will break you, Elara,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, haunting register. “It’s a weight you aren't ready to carry. You think you want justice, but you’re walking into a storm that has been brewing since before you were born.”

...​I opened my mouth to retort, to tell him that I was already broken, but the words died in my throat. A tiny, pin prick of crimson light suddenly bloomed on the dark fabric of my coat, over my heart.​My blood turned to ice. A sniper!...

​“Get down!” Julian roared.​

...The change in him was instantaneous. The brooding lawyer vanished, replaced by a man of violent action. He tackled me to the pavement with a force that knocked the breath from my lungs. A split second later, a sharp whistle tore through the air right where my head had been, followed by the screech of lead sparking off the stone balustrade....

​“Run! Don’t look back!” Julian pulled me up, his hand gripping my arm with bruising strength.

...​We scrambled to our feet, our boots pounding against the wet stone as we dived into the thickest part of the fog. Behind us, another bullet struck a metal lamp post with a deafening clang, the world shattering into chaos. My heart was a drum in my ears, my lungs burning with every jagged breath.​We were both terrified, running blindly through the shadows of a city that suddenly felt like a labyrinth designed for our execution. But even as the adrenaline surged, a dark, poisonous thought began to take root in my mind....

...​I was running for my life alongside the man I had sworn to kill. But if Julian was the monster I believed him to be, then who…or…what…was out there in the dark, trying to murder a killer like him?...

...​The target had shifted, and as we disappeared into the blackness of the London night, I realized that the enemy Julian warned me about wasn't just close. They were already pulling the trigger....

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