Chapter 36: Hunting the Hunter

Kai worked fast. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as screens flickered with live feeds, tracking pings, and underground chatter. She wasn't just some hacker playing games—she was a war strategist, and right now, her battlefield was the digital underworld.

"Raze isn't hiding," she muttered, scrolling through the bounty listings. "He's making a statement. Offering double to anyone who brings your head in." She turned to me, eyes glinting. "You're officially the most wanted man in this city."

I leaned against the desk, cracking my knuckles. "Then let's make it a trap."

Kai arched a brow. "Oh? Got something in mind, storm-boy?"

Ghost smirked, arms crossed. "Damien's got a habit of making people come to him. Usually ends with a body count."

I ignored the comment. "We leak false intel. Make it seem like I'm holing up in one of Kross's abandoned fight pits. It's public, it's scummy, and it's exactly the kind of place Raze would send his dogs first."

Kai nodded slowly, thinking. "You're betting on him sending others before coming himself."

I smiled coldly. "I'm betting on him wanting to watch."

Ghost exhaled through his nose. "This is a long shot."

"It's the only shot," I said.

Kai cracked her knuckles. "Then let's paint a damn good target."

She got to work, feeding misinformation into the right channels. Within minutes, underground forums and encrypted networks buzzed with rumors: Damien spotted near the old fight pit. Vulnerable. Alone.

Now, we waited.

Three Hours Later – The Fight Pit

The place stank of sweat, blood, and bad bets. The metal cage in the center was rusted but still solid, its bars lined with old stains. Spectators filled the upper balconies, some armed, most just eager for a show.

I sat on a crate near the edge of the cage, rolling my shoulders. I could feel the eyes on me—bounty hunters, low-level thugs, all waiting for the right moment.

Ghost sat nearby, pretending to be just another gambler. Kai was off-site, feeding us updates through an earpiece.

Then the air shifted.

A presence. Heavy. Cold.

I turned.

And there he was.

Raze.

He stood on the upper balcony, watching, a slow smirk curling his lips. His dark eyes locked onto mine like a predator savoring its prey.

My fingers curled into fists.

The trap was set.

Now came the hard part—springing it without dying first.