Chapter 20 The Hunter

Emerlda arrived at the Prattville hotel, the weight of her memories a heavy burden. Placing her bag on the table, she drifted back to her final conversation with Daniel in a Las Vegas cafe. The clinking of ice in her coffee mug echoed in the empty room, a stark contrast to the bustling cafe where their argument had unfolded."I would like you to return to Russia and give my son a proper burial he deserves," Emerlda had said, her voice tight with emotion. The words had hung heavy in the air, a stark departure from her usual steely demeanor.Daniel, his face etched with concern, slammed his fist on the table, the clatter drawing startled stares from fellow patrons. "I will not leave you here all alone!" he roared, his voice thick with defiance.Emerlda flinched, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features before it was swiftly masked by a steely resolve. "I can handle myself, Daniel," she countered, her voice laced with a bitterness that surprised even her. "Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Burns. He's become too unpredictable."But the truth, the raw, agonizing truth, was that Emerlda craved solitude. The death of her son, Maxim, had ripped a gaping hole in her world, leaving behind a void that no amount of bloodshed or vengeance could fill. The thought of returning to Russia, to the place where her happiness had died, was a torment. Yet, a morbid compulsion drew her there. She needed to face the ghosts of her past, to lay her son to rest not just physically, but emotionally as well.She wasn't sure what awaited her in Russia. Perhaps it was a trap, a final act of retribution by her enemies. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a sliver of closure, a chance to finally begin the long, arduous process of healing.As Emerlda sat in the sterile hotel room, the weight of her decision pressed down on her. The mission, the fight against the Ascendants and Burns, all felt distant, insignificant compared to the turmoil within her. Taking a deep breath, she reached into her bag and pulled out a weathered photograph. It was a picture of a young boy, his face beaming with a mischievous grin – Maxim. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the image."Forgive me, Maxim," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm coming home."With a newfound resolve, Emerlda wiped her tears and started making arrangements for her trip to Russia. The fight for control, for vengeance, could wait. Right now, she had a more personal battle to wage – a battle for peace within the storm that raged within her

Emerlda pressed the worn leather folder into Daniel's hand, her face etched with a weariness that seemed to age her years in a matter of moments. "Evolution," she rasped, her voice a mere shadow of its usual steely command, "is in your hands now, Daniel. You are the only family I have left."A tremor ran through Daniel. The woman who had always been a storm of ruthless efficiency now resembled a flickering candle, burning down to its very wick. "What do you mean, 'the only family'?" he choked out, a dread settling in his stomach like a lead weight. "We can handle them, Emerlda. We can kill Burns and his men, then return to Russia together. Start over."A humorless smile flickered across Emerlda's lips, a flicker that didn't reach her eyes. "Start over?" she echoed, her voice laced with a bitterness that sent shivers down Daniel's spine. "Don't be naive, Daniel. This life... it taints you. Even monsters like us have a breaking point, and mine has arrived."Her words were a punch to Daniel's gut. What life was she referring to? What monsters were they? The cryptic reference to their "cursed blood of the Borstov" hung heavy in the air, a secret Emerlda had always kept close to the chest."But there has to be another way!" Daniel pleaded, his voice thick with desperation. "Let me help you. We can find a doctor, disappear for a while. There has to be a way to break free from this cycle of violence."Emerlda shook her head, a single tear escaping and tracing a glistening path down her cheek. It was the first sign of vulnerability Daniel had ever witnessed in her. "There isn't, Daniel," she whispered, her voice surprisingly strong for her weakened state. "This mission… it's not just about killing Burns. It's about stopping something far more sinister, something tied to our blood, to the Borstov legacy."Intrigue battled with concern in Daniel's mind. He yearned to know more, but the urgency in Emerlda's voice left no room for questions. "The folder contains everything you need to understand," she continued, her grip tightening on his hand. "It will be a dangerous path, Daniel. But you have the strength, the… good within you, to see it through."Her words sparked a flicker of hope in Daniel's chest. Good within him? Was she hinting at a path towards redemption, a way to break the curse that seemed to bind them?Before he could voice his thoughts, a guttural growl erupted from outside the door, followed by a loud bang. "Emerlda Volkov!" a gruff voice boomed. "We know you're in there! Open up!"Emerlda's eyes widened, her resolve hardening. "Seems our time is short," she muttered, a spark of defiance returning to her gaze. "Remember, Daniel. Evolution… and our legacy…"With a surprising burst of strength, she shoved the folder back into his hand. Then, with a fluidity born of years of battle, she grabbed a hidden weapon from a nearby drawer."Go," she whispered, her voice firm despite the tremor in her hands. "Now!"Daniel hesitated, torn between loyalty and fear. Emerlda, the only family he'd ever known, was about to face an unknown enemy, and she was sending him away.But then, as the pounding on the door intensified, Emerlda's eyes locked with his, a silent plea etched within them. A plea for him to carry the torch, to break the cycle, to find redemption not just for himself, but perhaps for her as well.With a heavy heart, Daniel turned and bolted towards the window, the weight of the folder and the weight of Emerlda's cryptic words a crushing burden on his shoulders. He may not have understood the full truth yet, but one thing was clear: his life, and perhaps the fate of the world, had just changed irrevocably.

The raw pain in Daniel's voice scraped against Emerlda's already frayed nerves. Tears, a rarity for her, welled in her own eyes. "It isn't your fault," she rasped, her voice weak but firm. "They were monsters, Daniel. This… this was justice, a twisted kind maybe, but justice nonetheless."A dry sob escaped Daniel's lips. "But they were still people," he choked out.Emerlda reached out, her hand trembling as it brushed his cheek. The warmth of her touch, so familiar yet foreign in her weakened state, sent a jolt through him."Death is a fickle thing, Daniel," she whispered, her voice laced with a strange acceptance. "The worst part isn't the dying, it's the living with the burden of taking a life. But we… we are different. We live in a world where such burdens are the price of survival."Silence descended upon them, heavy with unspoken grief and the weight of their shared existence. She squeezed his hand, her grip surprisingly strong. "Listen to me, Daniel," she said, her voice gaining a hint of urgency. "You are stronger than you think. You are the one who can break the cycle. Our legacy..." she coughed weakly, a crimson stain blooming on her lips."Our legacy can be more," she continued, her voice dropping to a raspy whisper. "It can be… redemption." Her eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in shallow gasps.Fear, cold and sharp, clawed at Daniel's throat. He fumbled with the gym bag at his feet, the weight of its contents suddenly symbolic of the responsibility thrust upon him."Emerlda?" he rasped, his voice thick with panic. Her eyes flickered open, a faint smile gracing her pale lips."Go," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Become the light, Daniel. Become the future."With a final, shuddering breath, Emerlda's hand went limp in his. Tears streamed down Daniel's face as he cradled her lifeless body, the weight of her legacy, the bulletproof suit, and the chip full of secrets pressing down on him. He knew then, with a chilling certainty, that his life had irrevocably changed. He wasn't just leaving a hotel room anymore, he was leaving behind a past drenched in violence and stepping into a future burdened with the hope for redemption.

Emerlda stared at the sleek black suit, a wave of conflicting emotions washing over her. Daniel's thoughtfulness, a stark contrast to the harsh reality of their situation, brought a flicker of warmth to her chest."How did you get this, Daniel?" she rasped, her voice weak.He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Always had a feeling we might need something like this."The material felt surprisingly light and flexible in her hands. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance. A chance to honor his faith in her, to fulfill the promise etched on her fading breath – redemption.With a sigh, she pulled on the suit, the smooth fabric a comforting second skin. Over it, she threw a baggy tracksuit, a facade of normalcy in a world gone mad.

Emerlda stood frozen at the doorway, the woman's voice a jarring intrusion on her mission. It wasn't the words themselves, but the raw emotion in them – the desperation for a fresh start, a life free from pain.A wave of nausea washed over Emerlda. This woman, this innocent caught in the web of their violence, what did she have to do with Burns' crimes? The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge to Emerlda's cold resolve.But then, the image of Daniel, his trusting eyes filled with a plea for redemption, flickered in her mind. The mission, their twisted legacy, it all pressed down on her, leaving no room for hesitation.With a steely glint in her eyes, Emerlda raised her weapon.

Burns had moved his family to a secure house in a peaceful suburb of Prattville in Alabama, the bunker was uncomfortable especially for his newly born Granddaughter, she was just a month old. Burns saw a trail of blood on the floor, he quickly took his gun as he walked towards the dining room.

A cruel smile played on Emerlda's lips as the news report droned on. The flickering light of the television cast an eerie glow on her face, the shadows deepening the lines etched around her eyes. Behind the set, a timer ticked down silently, counting the seconds until her message would be delivered.Burns, oblivious to the danger lurking in his own living room, leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the screen. "These criminals shouldn't be…" the grieving son choked out, his voice thick with emotion.Suddenly, the screen flickered, the image distorting before being replaced with a static hiss. Then, a voice, cold and emotionless, pierced the silence."Consider this a courtesy, Burns. A warning. The cleansing has begun."The message was brief, the threat unmistakable. Emerlda watched with satisfaction as the color drained from Burns' face, replaced by a mixture of fear and fury.Burns' blood turned to ice. His breath hitched in his throat, a strangled sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous emptiness of the mansion. Emerlda, a specter in black, stood bathed in the pale moonlight filtering through the window. But it was what she cradled in her arms that sent a spike of terror lancing through him.His granddaughter, Lily, a miniature angel with a shock of blonde curls, slept peacefully, oblivious to the drama unfolding around her. Emerlda rocked her gently, a motion so incongruous with the glint of the knife strapped to her thigh, it sent chills skittering down Burns' spine."Careful, Burns," Emerlda purred, her voice a silken caress laced with venom. "Wouldn't want to hurt your precious progeny, would we?" She tilted Lily's head slightly, the moonlight catching on the downy fuzz of her cheek. "Reminds me of the time I held my own son, Maxim. A little smaller than her, he was. So fragile, every touch a dance on eggshells."A flicker of something akin to pain crossed her face, a fleeting emotion quickly masked by a chilling smile. "But unlike you, Burns," she continued, her voice dropping to a low hiss, "I never used my own flesh and blood as a bargaining chip."The accusation hung heavy in the air, a truth so sharp it sliced through Burns' carefully constructed facade. Shame, a viper he'd thought long slain, reared its ugly head, its venom coursing through him. Images of a younger Emerlda, her eyes filled with a love he'd never deserved, flashed in his mind.But self-pity was a luxury he couldn't afford. He had to act. His gaze darted around the room, searching for an escape, a weapon. His eyes landed on a heavy silver candlestick on the nearby table, its potential glinting under the moon's soft glow.A desperate plan, a gamble fueled by a cornered animal's instinct for survival, began to form in his mind.

Emerlda's voice cracked on the last word, a hint of vulnerability peeking through the facade of cold fury. She tightened her grip on the baby, perhaps more to control her own trembling hands than to restrain the child."You took him from me, Burns," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "My Maxim, just a boy, barely a man. All because you thought he was a weakness, a liability."A single tear escaped, tracing a glistening path down her cheek. The vulnerability in her expression was a stark contrast to the steely glint in her eyes moments before. It was a flicker of doubt, a question hanging in the air. Was this vengeance, or a desperate plea for a justification she knew wouldn't come?Burns seized the opportunity. With a feigned calmness that belied the frantic pounding of his heart, he spoke."Maxim? What are you talking about?" He spread his hands, palms facing outwards in a gesture of surrender. "I've never met a Maxim in my life. You must be mistaken."His voice held a hint of confusion, a calculated gamble. He knew the truth would only inflame her further, but a fabricated story, a seed of doubt planted in her mind, might be his only chance.As if on cue, the baby stirred in Emerlda's arms. A whimper turned into a full-blown cry, shattering the tense silence. Emerlda winced, her gaze flickering between Burns and the child. The raw vulnerability of a newborn, its complete dependence, seemed to momentarily ground her."See what you've done!" Burns spat, his voice dripping with a feigned anger, deflecting the attention away from his lie. "This child has nothing to do with this, she doesn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire of your madness!"The accusation hung heavy in the air, a challenge that resonated with the flicker of doubt already present in Emerlda's eyes. Here, in the face of innocence, her carefully constructed resolve threatened to crumble.

Emerlda lowered the child, its soft breaths a stark contrast to the storm brewing in her eyes. Her voice, usually melodic, was a low growl. "One by one," she rasped, each word a shard of ice. Burns flinched, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple. He knew the weight of her words. The Bloods had wronged her people for generations, and he, by blood, bore the taint."Their blood is on your hands, Burns," she hissed, advancing a step. Her hand, calloused and strong, hovered over the hilt of a dagger strapped to her thigh. Burns' breath hitched. This wasn't just a threat; it was a promise laced with venomous satisfaction."There has to be another way," he rasped, the defiance a flicker in his dimming hope. He loathed the Bloods' legacy, but these innocents... The child stirred, whimpering softly. A surge of protectiveness, unexpected and fierce, flared within Burns. He wouldn't let them all die for sins of the past.Emerlda's eyes narrowed. "Another way?" she scoffed. "Tell me, Burns, what price can you offer for the lives of your kin?"The harsh fluorescent light stabbed at Burns' eyes, forcing them open. He blinked, the sterile white room blurring into focus. A wave of nausea washed over him, a dull ache throbbing in his skull. A figure in a dark suit stood at his bedside, flanked by two imposing men with grim expressions."Mr. Burns?" The voice belonged to the man in the suit, Director Gates, Burns recognized with a jolt. "Our deepest condolences for the loss of your family..."Burns' breath hitched. Family? The word felt foreign, a cruel joke in the sterile environment. "My family?" His voice rasped, a dry croak. "What are you talking about?" He shot upright, ignoring the searing pain that flared in his chest. Panic clawed at his throat as he ripped the IV drips from his hand, the plastic hissing.Director Gates held up a hand, his voice calm despite the rising tension. "We arrived just in time. You've been in a coma for two weeks. There was...an incident." He paused, his gaze flickering to the men beside him. "A devastating one."A tremor ran through Burns. An incident? What incident? Where was his family? The room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken words."We'll get you the details when you're stronger," Gates continued, his voice tight. "But for now, rest. We have a lot to talk about."A guttural sob escaped Burns' lips as the words "chlorine poisoning" echoed in the sterile office. His world had shattered. Images of happy smiles and playful giggles flooded his mind, replaced by the stark reality of lifeless bodies. He crumpled to the floor, his fists clenching and unclenching on the carpet."That's bullshit!" he roared, his voice raw with grief and fury. "My wife wouldn't hurt a fly! She loved them more than life itself!" He lunged for the stack of documents Smith had placed on the desk, scattering them across the floor like fallen leaves.The television flickered to life, a news report blaring from the screen. A young journalist stood solemn-faced in front of a massive, dark tunnel. "...tragic accident with the truck," the reporter droned on. "President Borstov, one of the victims..."Burns' head snapped towards the screen. President Borstov? In a truck accident? He scoffed, a humorless sound. Borstov never traveled by anything less than a bulletproof limousine.Then the news shifted to a woman with a kind smile and piercing blue eyes. "...her business associates are still pouring in their heartfelt condolences..." His wife's face, plastered across the screen, felt like a cruel mockery. She was being hailed as a saint, while his family lay cold in the ground.A surge of suspicion replaced the raw grief. "Evolution," the news report mentioned. Who were they? Why were they paying "respects" to Borstov? And what did they have to do with his wife's "suicide"? His wife, a woman of quiet strength, wouldn't have succumbed so easily. The pieces didn't fit. This was no accident. He had to find out the truth.The remote control slipped through his numb fingers, clattering harmlessly on the floor. A fire ignited in his eyes, fueled by a potent mix of grief and a growing suspicion of a conspiracy. He wouldn't let his family's deaths be swept under the rug. He would find those responsible, no matter who they were or what "Evolution" meant.The harsh click of the door shutting sent a shiver down Burns' spine. He was barely conscious, the sedative a thick fog in his head. Through blurry vision, he saw the nurse shooing away two figures in blue uniforms. Their frustrated faces flickered out of view, replaced by an unsettling silence.Then, a shadow loomed over him. He tried to turn his head, but his body refused to obey. A metallic tang filled his nostrils as a figure emerged from the darkness."Emerlda," he rasped, his voice hoarse. Her familiar face swam into focus, illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the window. But it wasn't the Emerlda he knew. This woman's eyes held a cold, predatory glint. She wasn't angry, she was calculating, like a lioness stalking its prey.A sickening crunch echoed in the sterile room as Emerlda took a bite of a crisp apple. "Don't be cocky, Burns," she purred, her voice devoid of emotion. "Look at yourself. A sedated tiger is still a tiger, but a cornered one is just a whimper away from death."Before he could react, a flash of silver caught his eye. A glint of moonlight on a blade. Pain exploded in his leg as a searing agony ripped through his body. A choked scream died in his throat as Emerlda clamped a hand over his mouth."Shh," she hissed, her voice a chilling whisper. "No noise in the hospital, Burns. Remember when I warned you not to get involved? Now you have a little welcome gift."She withdrew the blade, leaving a trail of crimson blooming on his pale skin. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the sweet scent of the apple, a macabre juxtaposition.As Emerlda melted back into the shadows, Burns lay there, the question hanging heavy in the thick air: What did he get involved in, how much trouble was he in.A wave of nausea washed over Burns as the nurses bustled around him, their concerned chatter a distant hum. The throbbing pain in his leg was a dull counterpoint to the agonizing ache in his heart. His family...gone. Lost to a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.He reached for the call button, a desperate need for human connection pulsating within him. Just as a nurse appeared, a stern-faced Smith materialized in the doorway, flanked by two grim-looking officers."Mr. Burns," Smith began, his voice devoid of its usual warmth. "We need to talk."Burns' heart hammered against his ribs. Talk? About what? Before he could voice his question, Smith whipped out a document and slapped it on his bedside table. An arrest warrant. His name, bold and black, stared back at him.The room seemed to tilt on its axis. Murder? Embezzlement? Human trafficking? The words blurred into a meaningless jumble. This had to be some twisted joke, a cruel figment of his drug-addled mind."You're under arrest, Mr. Burns," Smith stated, his voice flat. "For the murder of Emerlda Borstov-"Burns' blood ran cold. Emerlda Borstov? President Borstov's wife? The woman who was hailed as a saint on the news? His mind reeled. How could this be?Smith continued, his voice a monotonous drone listing a string of horrifying accusations. Each word felt like a blow, chipping away at the fragile remnants of Burns' sanity.As the handcuffs clicked shut around his wrists, a horrifying question burned in his mind: Was he being framed? And if so, who was behind it and why?The world spun as they led him out of the room. His family's funeral loomed, a sickening reminder of his loss. But now, a new battle awaited him, one where the lines between truth and lies were hopelessly blurred.Gates savored the scene before him. Burns, once a thorn in his side, was now a broken man, shackled and facing a future bleaker than a moonless night. A triumphant grin stretched across Gates' face, a stark contrast to the despair radiating from the room.He wasn't just ambitious; he craved power with an insatiable hunger. The Director's chair at the CIA was more than just a title; it was a key that could unlock a world of shadows and influence. And Burns, with his tangled web of past misdeeds, was the golden key he needed.Carefully, Gates activated his comm unit. Emerlda's voice, deceptively calm, crackled through the earpiece. "Director Gates, I presume?" A sardonic smile played on his lips. "Indeed, you cunning woman. They're secure, but...""But?" Emerlda's voice hardened. "Gates, you know the deal. No loose ends."Gates chuckled, a sound devoid of humor. "Relax, my dear associate. He's alive, but broken. He'll sing like a canary if we prod him the right way. Besides," he added, a hint of unease creeping into his voice, "wouldn't you want a little more entertainment before the final curtain call?"The silence on the other end stretched, thick with tension. Finally, a single, chilling word broke it. "Alive." Then, a click as Emerlda ended the transmission.Gates lowered the comm unit, his smile fading. He knew he was playing a dangerous game. Emerlda's ruthlessness was legendary, and he wasn't sure how long their fragile alliance would hold. He just had to hope that Burns' secrets were enough to secure him the Director's seat before Emerlda decided to silence them both.