Chapter 35: The Assassin’s Game

Gabriel could feel the pressure mounting as he walked through the cold, damp alleyways of the city. Each step echoed in the silence, a reminder of how far he'd come—and how much further he had to go. His thoughts were a whirlwind, swirling with the revelations from Noah. Cassius Virelli wasn't just the puppet master behind Blackwood's empire—he was the architect of everything Gabriel had fought against.

The name had sent a shiver down his spine. Virelli had been a ghost, a myth whispered about in the deepest corners of the underworld. Now, he was real. And he was closer than Gabriel had ever imagined.

The air tonight was heavy with rain, the kind that soaked you to the bone and blurred the edges of reality. The shadows were deeper, more oppressive. But it wasn't just the rain that made Gabriel uneasy. It was the feeling that someone was watching him. Following him. He had been trained for this—the ability to sense when something was off—but tonight, the sensation was worse than ever.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sharp reminder of the task at hand. It was Noah.

"Be careful. We've been compromised."

Gabriel's heart skipped a beat. Compromised. That was the last thing he needed right now. The only thing worse than having a target on your back was knowing someone else was pulling the strings from behind the scenes.

He checked the street around him, instincts kicking in. There was nothing. No movement. No sound. But the feeling that he was being hunted didn't dissipate.

The sudden click of a gun's safety snapping off was all it took for his instincts to fully engage. Gabriel spun, his hand going to his concealed weapon as the figure stepped out of the shadows. It was a woman—tall, slender, with the lethal grace of someone who had honed her skills in the darkest corners of the world.

A cold smile stretched across her face, and Gabriel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. She was a professional, that much was clear.

"You're Gabriel West, aren't you?" Her voice was soft, almost conversational, as if they were discussing the weather. But the intent behind her words was crystal clear. She wasn't here for a chat.

Gabriel didn't respond immediately. His eyes locked onto hers, calculating every movement, every subtle shift in her posture. "Who sent you?" he asked, his voice low but steady. He couldn't let her see his tension. Not yet.

"Someone who wants to see you dead." Her smile didn't falter. "It's nothing personal. Just business."

Gabriel's mind raced. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him. The assassin had to be working for Virelli—or someone even higher up in the shadow network. Whoever it was, they knew who he was, where he was, and what he was about to do.

"I'm guessing you're the one who's supposed to kill me," Gabriel said, taking a half step back, his fingers brushing the cold metal of his gun beneath his coat. "How much are they paying you? Enough to throw your life away?"

She raised an eyebrow. "You think I'm scared of you?" Her eyes flicked to his hand, the gun he was now slowly pulling into view. "You're slower than I thought."

Before Gabriel could react, she moved. The blur of motion was too fast for him to follow. She closed the distance in an instant, her foot kicking out to knock his gun from his hand.

Gabriel's training kicked in. He ducked, spinning out of the way just as her blade came slashing down where his neck had been moments before. The woman was quick, ruthless—but so was he. His body twisted, bringing him to the ground as her knife swiped through the air above him.

He didn't hesitate. The fight was on.

Gabriel was already on his feet, moving to the side, his hand shooting out to grab a piece of debris on the ground—a broken pipe. As she lunged for him again, Gabriel used the pipe to block her strike, the metal meeting her blade with a sharp crack.

She hissed in pain, clearly unfazed by the minor injury, and came at him again, faster this time. But Gabriel was ready. He anticipated her movement, sidestepping at the last second and sweeping her feet out from under her.

She hit the ground hard, but Gabriel knew this wouldn't be over so easily. As she rolled, he reached for his gun, already aware that the longer this fight lasted, the more likely it was that more would come.

And he didn't have time for that.

The assassin regained her footing and lunged toward him, but this time, Gabriel was faster. With a swift motion, he struck her across the side of the head with the pipe. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious but not dead.

Gabriel stood over her, chest heaving, his heart pounding in his ears. He had no intention of killing her—not yet. But he needed answers.

He crouched down, pressing the barrel of his gun gently to her temple. "Who sent you?" he asked again, his voice cold.

The assassin didn't answer immediately, her eyes fluttering as she regained consciousness. When she finally spoke, her voice was strained. "Virelli," she gasped. "He knows you're coming for him."

Gabriel's mind raced. Virelli. The puppet master. The one pulling all the strings. This woman had been just a piece of his plan.

She continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're not the only one he's watching, Gabriel. There are others. More agents. More lies. You think you're the one in control, but you're not. He's already five steps ahead."

Gabriel's grip on the gun tightened. "I'm not done yet," he muttered under his breath, but a part of him knew she was right. The deeper he went into this, the more tangled the web became. Virelli was a force he couldn't take down alone. And he was running out of time.