The night was cold, the sky stretching in endless darkness above the abandoned warehouse. Inside, the air was thick with tension as Jillian, Dante, Leo, and Felix stood around a crude wooden table littered with maps, blueprints, and scattered notes. A dim lantern flickered in the corner, casting long shadows against the rusting metal walls.
Jillian leaned over the table, her hands pressed against the worn surface, her mind racing. "We don't have the luxury of time. If Camilla put a hit out on me, then she already knows we're closing in."
Dante, arms crossed, gave a slow nod. "She won't send amateurs. This will be quick and brutal."
Leo exhaled sharply, tossing his knife into the table, the blade sinking into the wood with a dull thunk. "We have two options. Run, or fight." His eyes locked onto Jillian. "And I already know what you're going to choose."
Felix smirked from where he leaned against a stack of crates. "Damn right she is. Running ain't her style."
Jillian straightened, her expression hard. "No, it's not. We take the fight to her."
A heavy silence fell over the group as they absorbed the weight of those words.
Dante stepped closer, his dark eyes searching hers. "Are you ready for that? Because once we move, there's no turning back. This won't be like before. This isn't just about exposing her anymore."
Jillian met his gaze with unwavering determination. "I don't just want to expose her. I want to take everything from her—the way she took everything from me."
Dante studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Then we start tonight."
Leo pulled out his phone, quickly scanning a message before speaking. "I might have something. A contact of mine tracked one of Camilla's men to an old motel outside town. If we get to him before he reports back, we might be able to figure out her next move."
Jillian's pulse quickened. "Then let's go."
The drive was tense. Jillian sat in the backseat of Dante's car, her heart hammering as they sped down the dirt road. The motel loomed ahead, a broken-down building on the outskirts of town, its neon sign flickering.
Leo parked a short distance away. "We go in quiet. No unnecessary risks."
Jillian nodded as she checked the small knife strapped to her thigh. She had trained for weeks, but this would be her first real fight. She swallowed her fear, steeling herself.
The group moved swiftly, slipping through the motel's back entrance. Inside, the air smelled of mildew and cigarette smoke. Footsteps echoed in the hallway ahead.
Felix pressed himself against the wall, peering around the corner. "Room 206. He's in there."
Jillian took a deep breath. "Let's do this."
Dante kicked open the door. The man inside barely had time to react before Leo had him pinned against the wall, a blade to his throat.
Jillian stepped forward. "Where is Camilla?"
The man smirked. "You think you're the hunter? You're the prey."
Before anyone could react, a loud bang shattered the silence.
Gunfire erupted. The room exploded into chaos.
The sharp crack of gunfire shattered the tense air. Jillian instinctively dove for cover behind an overturned table as the motel room erupted in chaos. Leo yanked the man down, using him as a shield while Dante grabbed his gun, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.
"Where the hell did that come from?!" Felix shouted, pressing against the wall as another shot tore through the window, shattering glass across the grimy floor.
Jillian's heart pounded. They had been too slow—Camilla had anticipated their move.
Leo gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the terrified informant. "Who's out there?!"
The man, now trembling, shook his head frantically. "I don't know! I swear! I didn't—"
A sudden thud silenced him. His body slumped against Leo, lifeless. A sniper's bullet had torn straight through his skull.
"Shit!" Leo pushed the body aside and ducked. "We need to move!"
Dante cursed under his breath and gestured toward the back door. "Go, now!"
Jillian didn't hesitate. She ran, staying low, her adrenaline-fueled mind racing as bullets whizzed past. They barely made it to the alley behind the motel before the next wave of gunfire rained down, forcing them to dive behind an old dumpster.
Dante pressed his back against the cold metal, breathing heavily. "We were set up."
Jillian clenched her fists. "Camilla knew we were coming."
Leo peered around the corner. "She's making sure we don't find any leads. She wants us chasing ghosts."
Felix wiped a streak of blood from his arm where a bullet had grazed him. "She's covering her tracks."
Jillian exhaled sharply. "Then we stop playing her game."
Dante glanced at her. "You got a plan?"
She nodded, determination hardening her voice. "We make her think she's already won."
Back at the abandoned warehouse, Jillian paced, the gears in her mind turning. "Camilla expects us to be on the run, scrambling to find information. So we do the opposite. We give her what she wants—bait."
Leo raised a brow. "Bait?"
Felix smirked. "I like where this is going."
Jillian continued, her mind sharp. "Camilla won't rest until she's sure we're no longer a threat. We need to leak false information, make her come to us."
Dante crossed his arms. "And when she does?"
Jillian met his gaze, her eyes cold. "We end this."
A heavy silence filled the room. Then, Leo chuckled darkly. "Damn. I really hope she takes the bait."
Dante smirked. "Oh, she will."
The trap was set.
And Camilla Robinson had no idea what was coming.
The next evening, the trap was in motion. Jillian sat alone in a dimly lit café on the outskirts of town, sipping a cup of tea with steady hands. She played her role well—anxious, distracted, like a girl who had lost everything and was grasping at straws.
Leo and Dante watched from a distance, blending into the shadows of a parked car across the street. Their plan was simple: spread rumors that Jillian had obtained an old journal containing secrets about Camilla Robinson's past—secrets that could bring her down. If Camilla was as desperate as they believed, she would come to eliminate the threat herself.
Jillian pretended to fidget, tapping her fingers on the table as if she were nervously waiting for someone. The café was nearly empty except for a few locals, but Jillian knew better than to underestimate Camilla's reach.
A few minutes later, the door swung open.
A man in a dark coat entered first, scanning the room with sharp eyes before stepping aside. Then, she walked in.
Camilla Robinson.
She was dressed elegantly, as always, in a navy blue coat and black gloves, her heels clicking against the floor with quiet confidence. A polite, controlled smile played on her lips, but her cold eyes betrayed her true nature.
Jillian's grip tightened around her cup, but she forced a calm expression as Camilla slid into the seat across from her.
"I must say," Camilla began smoothly, removing her gloves with slow, deliberate movements, "I'm surprised you wanted to meet, Jillian. After everything."
Jillian tilted her head slightly, feigning nervousness. "I just… I wanted answers."
Camilla smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Answers?"
Jillian leaned in, lowering her voice. "I found something. Something about my mother. And you."
Camilla's expression didn't change, but Jillian saw the subtle tightening of her jaw.
"Oh?" Camilla folded her hands neatly on the table. "And what, exactly, did you find?"