“Her again? What’s she done this time?”

“You know she paid me a visit, when I was being held by the IAW.” They paused at an intersection, waiting for the light to turn red. “Well, it’s true what I told you last night. She did offer to secure my release, if I agreed to help her dismantle the alliance. But that wasn’t the only thing on offer.”

“What else does she have that you could possibly want?”

“The videos.”

An icy fist squeezed Ruban’s heart. Not wanting to hear the answer he knew he’d get, he made himself ask: “What videos?”

“She wasn’t lying,” Ashwin said softly, eyes fixed ahead. “At the meeting, when she said she had videos of…of me. In Reivaa’s old castle. Those videos…they exist. And she has them.” He gave a mirthless little laugh. “She was kind enough to allow me a private viewing. To…encourage me to choose wisely, in her own words.”

A searing rage surged through Ruban, making his temples throb. “She blackmailed you.”

“Not in so many words. But the implications were clear. She has the videos. Meaning that she also has the power to release them, should I become too big of a thorn in her side.”

“It was Janak Nath, wasn’t it?” Ruban murmured, clenching both fists. “He made the videos. And gave them to her.”

Ashwin shrugged. “Either him or one of his minions. What does it matter? He’s dead now. And a video is a video. It won’t change what happened. And while it may not be pleasant viewing, it can’t do any real harm.”

The light turned red, and all the vehicles came to a halt. They stepped onto the road alongside the rest of the pedestrians. “Is it me you’re trying to convince?” Ruban asked Ashwin, without looking at him. “Or yourself?”

Ashwin’s reply was drowned under the sounds of several engines revving, all at once.

Confused, Ruban looked up. The traffic light was still red.

They hadn’t yet gotten halfway across the road when five gray cars sped towards them from different directions. Two of the cars were convertibles, like the one Ruban had noticed earlier within the residential area. One was an SUV. And all of them were painted an odd, dull gray color.

The cars had them surrounded, spread out across three of the four directions at the intersection.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The only way to escape on foot would be to run into the oncoming traffic, which had stalled temporarily due to the red light.

All five cars came to a screeching halt less than two meters away from them.

Around them, the other pedestrians screamed, panic-stricken.

Almost simultaneously, the doors of all five cars flew open. And a dozen armed, black-clad men stepped out.

Ruban’s hand went automatically to the service pistol at his belt.

Beside him, Ashwin stood stock-still, both hands loose at his sides. His wings invisible, he looked as unthreatening as it was possible for an Aeriel to look. Which, Ruban had to admit, wasn’t very.

Before he’d even finished that thought, a sifkren flew at them.

Ruban stepped sideways, away from the line of fire. He wasn’t the intended target, anyway.

With his usual, inhuman grace, Ashwin arched backward in one fluid motion. The sifkren soared smoothly over his contorted body. Only to crash into the windshield of one of the cars behind him, that’d stopped for the traffic light.

The windshield cracked noisily, leaving a chaotic pattern of fractures. Shards of glass went flying in every direction.

Once again, panicked cries reverberated throughout the intersection.

Half the thugs held their positions, while the other six launched themselves at Ashwin, their weapons raised.

Ruban extended a foot to trip one of the assailants, while swiftly disarming and neutralizing another. This gave Ashwin enough leeway to deal with his attackers two at a time, instead of all at once.

Two sifblades sliced through the air, hacking at Ashwin. Deftly, the Aeriel dodged the blades, dancing between them with agility. He immobilized one of the thugs with a swift, precise motion – striking him in the throat with the side of his hand. The second one received a blow to the stomach which sent him flying into one of the gray convertibles.

The man Ruban had tripped pulled himself back up and flew at Ashwin, a sifblade in hand. After a brief moment of hesitation, Ruban shot him in the thigh. The man collapsed with a pained shriek, seconds before his sifblade could make contact with Ashwin’s chest.

One of the six thugs who’d stayed away from the fight snarled, launching himself at Ruban.

He moved like the wind, agile and elusive, making it hard for Ruban to take aim. As he moved, he sliced the air with his blade, inching closer with every maneuver. Clearly, they’d come prepared to fight an Aeriel, and hadn’t expected him to intervene.

The thug mixed his meagre martial arts skills with common street fighting techniques. Despite the hodgepodge of combat styles, his moves were efficient, his attacks lethal. It took every bit of focus Ruban could muster to incapacitate him.

Only after he’d bested his own attacker did Ruban look up, to see Ashwin surrounded by three of the thugs. Three more lay at his feet, bleeding and immobile.

For a few seconds, he watched Ashwin take on his opponents, every strike swift and economical. The Aeriel appeared almost to glide between the three attackers – working more to hold them at bay than cause any serious damage.

Ruban frowned. The way these men fought and the weapons they wielded… It reminded him of the feather mafia, rather than the amateurish cults they’d been dealing with over the last few months. The run-of-the-mill zealots that typically joined up with the cults couldn’t possibly hold their own in single combat against a trained Hunter. Not even for a few minutes.