Billy moved swiftly through the crumbling corridors, his mind running as fast as his feet. Every instinct screamed that he was on borrowed time. The sniper had escaped, and there was no telling how many more enemies lurked in the shadows.

He had to leave. But not alone.

Reinhardt, unconscious but alive, was coming with him.

Billy crouched beside the mercenary leader and slung him over his shoulder with a grunt. The man was heavy, but Billy had carried worse. His ribs protested, pain flaring with each breath, but he pushed through.

His chaos blade remained sheathed, its whispers ever-present but subdued. For now.

Keeping low, Billy moved toward the exit. He navigated through the broken throne room, avoiding the main corridors where reinforcements might be waiting. Instead, he slipped through the hidden passageways of the fortress, using the same routes he had memorized before the battle began.

The night air was cool when he finally emerged outside. He moved through the ruins, past shattered walls and burnt-out torches. His extraction point was nearby—a hidden safe house on the outskirts of the city.

But as he approached, something felt off.

The air was too still.

Billy paused, listening. No movement. No guards.

Then he saw it.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A body lay slumped against the entrance to the safe house. Blood pooled beneath them, glistening in the moonlight.

Billy cursed and lowered Reinhardt against a nearby wall before drawing his chaos blade. His body tensed, scanning the area.

Someone had been here first.

He stepped closer, eyes narrowing as he took in the corpse’s armor. It wasn’t one of his men. It was someone else—another mercenary.

One of Reinhardt’s.

Billy knelt, checking the body. The wound was clean—a precise stab to the throat. No struggle. A professional kill.

And that meant one thing.

Whoever had done this hadn’t been after him. They had been after Reinhardt.

Billy’s grip tightened on his sword.

I need to move. Now.

He turned back, only to freeze as a voice cut through the darkness.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that.”

Billy spun, blade raised. A figure stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shrouded in the shadows.

They stepped forward, revealing a masked face and dark, tactical armor. Not a common mercenary. Not a city guard.

An assassin.

Billy’s instincts screamed danger.

The figure tilted their head. “I was sent here to clean up the mess. But I didn’t expect to find you still breathing.”

Billy didn’t move. “Who sent you?”

A soft chuckle. “You’re asking the wrong questions, Knight. The real question is—why haven’t they killed you yet?”

Billy’s eyes narrowed. The assassin was stalling.

And then he saw it.

The assassin’s fingers twitched slightly—a subtle movement, but one Billy recognized immediately.

A signal.

A second enemy. Behind him.

Billy reacted instantly. He ducked as a blade slashed through the air where his neck had been, narrowly avoiding the silent killer that had crept up behind him.

He twisted, driving his elbow into the attacker’s ribs before slamming his chaos blade through their chest.

A choked gasp. Blood spilled. The body collapsed.

Billy turned back to the first assassin—

Gone.

A single whisper lingered in the night air.

“You won’t be so lucky next time.”

Billy clenched his jaw. He sheathed his sword and grabbed Reinhardt again, hauling him up.

This was bigger than he thought.

He needed answers. And Reinhardt was going to give them to him.

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END OF CHAPTER 87