Her pulse pounded in her ears as she steadied her stance, her fingers curling into fists. The man before her was fast, but she had been training for this. Dante and Leo were still recovering from the sudden attack, but Jillian wasn't about to wait. She had spent too long running. Tonight, she was taking control.
The man smirked, his knife glinting under the faint streetlight. "What now, little girl? You think you can take me?"
Jillian didn't hesitate. She lunged, dodging as the knife slashed toward her. Her reflexes kicked in—Dante's training taking over. She ducked low, pivoting on her foot, and delivered a swift kick to the man's ribs.
He stumbled back slightly, surprised. But he recovered fast. Too fast.
Jillian barely had time to block as he retaliated, striking toward her with brutal precision. She shifted her weight, deflecting his blows, her muscles screaming with effort. Every move felt like a test—a battle of skill and endurance.
Leo, shaking off the impact from earlier, sprang forward to flank the man. Dante followed, the three of them now circling their opponent. The fight had only just begun.
The air was thick with tension, the only sounds were their rapid breaths and the scuffing of shoes against the cracked pavement. The man wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth and chuckled darkly. "Not bad," he admitted, rolling his shoulders. "Guess you're not just some helpless girl after all."
Jillian's jaw clenched. She knew better than to let his words shake her. This wasn't just about her anymore—this was about the people who had been hurt, the lies that had been spun, and the truth that had been buried. She wasn't leaving this fight without answers.
Dante and Leo shifted, positioning themselves strategically. The man may have been skilled, but he was outnumbered. He would slip up eventually.
"You have one chance to tell us who sent you," Jillian said, her voice low and controlled. "Or we'll make sure you regret crossing us."
The man smirked, unfazed. "And if I don't?"
Jillian didn't answer. Instead, she moved.
She feinted left before twisting right, her foot slamming into his knee with practiced precision. He grunted, staggering back, but he wasn't finished. With surprising speed, he lunged forward, slashing his knife toward her. She barely dodged, the blade grazing the fabric of her sleeve.
Leo seized the opportunity, driving his fist into the man's gut. The attacker doubled over, but Dante was already moving, landing a brutal punch to his jaw. The man collapsed onto the ground, groaning in pain.
Jillian didn't waste a second. She crouched beside him, gripping his collar and forcing him to meet her eyes. "Talk," she demanded. "Who hired you? Why were you after me?"
The man spat blood onto the ground, laughing weakly. "You think I'm afraid of you?"
Dante stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. "You should be."
But before they could get another word out of him, the sound of screeching tires filled the night. A black van skidded around the corner, its headlights blinding them for a split second.
"Shit," Leo muttered.
Before any of them could react, the van's side door flew open, and two masked men jumped out. They moved with precision, grabbing their fallen ally and dragging him toward the vehicle. Jillian lunged forward, but a sharp warning shot fired into the air made her freeze.
"Next time," one of the masked men said, his voice distorted by a voice modulator, "stay out of business that isn't yours."
And just like that, they were gone.
The van sped off, tires screeching as it disappeared into the darkness.
Jillian stood there, breathing hard, frustration burning in her chest. They had been so close—so damn close.
Leo cursed under his breath. "Now what?"
Jillian exhaled slowly, her fists trembling. She wasn't about to let this end here.
"We hunt them down," she said, her voice steely. "And this time, we don't let them get away."
******
Meanwhile, Victor Holloway arrived at the secluded meeting spot, his sharp eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings before stepping forward. Camilla Robbinson was already there, sitting with an air of forced composure, though he could see the nervous flicker in her eyes.
Victor didn't waste time with pleasantries. He leaned in slightly, his tone low and threatening. "Tell me, Camilla, why did you plan to betray me?" His voice carried an edge, laced with restrained anger.
Camilla scoffed, tilting her head as if offended. "Betray you?" she repeated, feigning innocence. "Victor, you've been played. This is a setup, and you're falling right into it."
Victor's jaw tightened. He had expected her to deny it, but the ease with which she flipped the accusation back onto him only fueled his suspicion. He studied her, searching for cracks in her act. "A setup?" he echoed mockingly. "Then tell me, who would go through all the trouble of framing you? And why?"
Camilla leaned back, exhaling dramatically as she crossed her arms. "That's what you should be asking yourself," she said smoothly. "Someone wants to turn us against each other, and from the way you're looking at me, I'd say they're succeeding."
Victor's fists clenched at his sides. He knew better than to take her words at face value. But without solid proof, he couldn't push further—not yet. He needed to be smart about this, and most importantly, he needed to figure out who was truly pulling the strings.
Victor narrowed his eyes, his patience wearing thin. "And who is helping you?" His voice was sharp, demanding an answer she wasn't willing to give.
Camilla let out a slow chuckle, shaking her head. "You really think I need help?" she said, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Victor, if I were planning to betray you, I wouldn't be sloppy enough to get caught."
Victor wasn't buying it. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Then explain why someone sent me proof that you've been plotting behind my back."
Camilla's expression didn't waver, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—annoyance? Fear? He couldn't tell, but he knew she wasn't as calm as she pretended to be.
She sighed, shaking her head. "Victor, you're being played. Someone is feeding you lies. And if you're smart, you'll start asking yourself who really benefits from turning us against each other."
Victor studied her, his mind racing. Was she bluffing? Or was there really someone else pulling the strings? Either way, he wasn't about to let her off the hook. "If you're innocent, prove it," he challenged. "Tell me who's been working with you. Because someone is—and I intend to find out who."
Camilla met his gaze, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Then I guess you have work to do." She stood up, adjusting her coat as if their conversation was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. "Let me know when you figure it out."
Victor watched her walk away, his jaw clenched. He wasn't sure what game Camilla was playing, but one thing was clear—she wasn't alone in this. And he would find out who was backing her, no matter what it took.