Chapter 32: The Price of the Past

The city lights blurred as I sped through the streets, the roar of my engine barely registering over the storm raging in my head.

Raze was back.

The name echoed through my mind like a curse I could never escape.

Ghost's voice crackled over the earpiece. "You sure about this? We don't have a plan."

I smirked, taking a sharp turn. "I've been waiting for this moment. That's all the planning I need."

Ghost sighed. "You sound like a guy ready to get himself killed."

"Not tonight."

I cut the lights as I neared the docks, parking a block away. This wasn't a place you walked into without expecting trouble. The air smelled of salt and rust, the shadows thick with more than just darkness.

I moved fast, keeping low. Ghost was in my ear, feeding me the layout. "West warehouse. Three guards outside. No heat signatures inside."

"Raze is waiting for me alone."

"That's what worries me."

I ignored him and crept closer. The guards were amateurs—cocky, distracted. I took the first one with a chokehold, dragging him into the shadows before he could even gasp.

The second barely had time to react before my knife slid across his throat.

The third turned just in time to see my gun barrel aimed at his head.

"Drop it," I ordered.

He hesitated.

I pulled the trigger.

He crumpled, and I slipped inside before the body hit the ground.

The warehouse was empty except for a single hanging light. Beneath it stood a lone figure.

Raze.

He hadn't changed. The same cold eyes, the same unreadable smirk.

"Damien," he greeted, like we were old friends meeting for a drink.

I stepped forward, my grip tightening on the gun. "You've been sending me messages."

Raze spread his arms. "You finally listened."

I didn't lower my weapon. "Why?"

He chuckled. "Still so impatient."

"I'm done playing games."

Raze's smirk faded. "No, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be here."

Something about his tone sent a warning through my veins, but I didn't lower my gun.

Raze took a step closer. "You've been running from your past, Damien. But I'm here to remind you—"

A red dot appeared on my chest.

I barely had time to react before the first shot rang out.

I dove, rolling behind a crate as bullets tore through the air. Snipers. Raze had come prepared.

Ghost's voice shouted in my ear, "Damien! Get out of there!"

But I wasn't going anywhere.

I was done running.

I spun from cover, taking out the first shooter on the rafters. The second shot missed me by inches, grazing my shoulder.

I gritted my teeth, aiming at the next target. One shot. One kill.

The gunfire died, and when I turned back, Raze was gone.

I cursed, scanning the shadows, but he'd vanished like smoke.

Ghost's voice was frantic. "Are you hit?"

"Barely," I muttered, gripping my shoulder. "But Raze got away."

Ghost sighed. "You expected anything less?"

I didn't answer.

Instead, I looked at the floor, where a single message was scratched into the concrete.

This isn't over.

I exhaled slowly.

"No," I murmured. "It's just beginning."