CHAPTER SIX: THE PRICE ON HIS HEAD

The Bounty

The news spread like wildfire.

"Five million dollars for Victor Logan, dead or alive."

Kane had made it official- every bounty hunter, mercenary, and low-life assassin in the city would now be gunning for him.

Logan smirked as he scrolled through his phone. They'd have to get in line.

But something else caught his attention.

A new message from the mole.

Mole: "Kane will be at the EI Royale Tower at 8 AM. No security. Just business."

It smelled like a setup. But Logan had been waiting for a crack in Kane's armor.

He wasn't about to let this slip.

8 AM.

Logan sat behind the wheel of his sleek black Aston Martin, parked across the street from EI Royale Tower. The tinted windows shielded him from prying eyes, but his instincts screamed danger.

He looked at his Rolex. Exactly on time.

Something's off.

No heavy security. No escorts. No sign of Kane.

Just silence.

Logan exhaled, grabbed his briefcase, and stepped out onto the pavement. His tailored black suit hugged his frame as he walked toward the building, his footsteps crisp against the quiet morning.

The moment he entered, the silence shattered.

The first bullet whizzed past his ear.

Logan didn't flinch.

Instead, he flipped the briefcase open mid-stride, pulling out twin handguns.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three men dropped.

From the balconies above, gunmen opened fire.

Logan rolled behind a marble pillar, returning fire in sharp bursts. Casings clattered on the floor.

One of Kane's mercs tried to flank him. Logan spun, grabbed the man's wrist, and forced him to pull the trigger on his skull.

The barrage of bullets turned the lobby into a warzone of glass shards and blood.

A shotgun blast nearly took his head off. Logan dived behind a reception desk, grabbed a fallen rifle, and sprayed the upper level.

The last gunman staggered and fell over the railing.

Silence.

Logan stood, reloading. He had won the shootout.

Or so he thought.

A slow clap echoed through the bullet-riddled room.

Logan turned.

A man stepped out from the shadows, dressed in a sharp navy blue suit. His jet-black hair was slicked back, his cold eyes locked on Logan.

In his gloved hands, he swung a thick steel chain, the links clanking ominously against the floor.

"I expected better from the infamous Victor Logan," the man mused. "You're good with guns. Let's see how you handle a real fight."

Logan smirked. "You got a name, or should I just call you 'Dead Man'?"

The man tightened his grip. "Call me Bishop."

Then, without warning, he lashed out.

The chain snapped through the air, heading straight for Logan's head.

He ducked at the last second, the metal links smashing through the reception desk, splinters flying everywhere.

Bishop didn't stop. He whipped the chain around again, forcing Logan to sidestep, then block with his forearm. Pain shot through him. That chain was weighted.

Bishop grinned. "Slower than I expected."

Logan flexed his fingers. "I was just warming up."

Then, he closed the distance.

Bishop swung again. Logan caught the chain in mid-air, yanked it forward, and drove a fist into Bishop's gut.

Bishop grunted but countered, whipping the other end of the chain around Logan's throat.

Logan felt the steel constrict- his air cut off.

Bishop twisted. Logan was slammed into a glass table, shattering it beneath him.

Blood dripped from his forehead. His vision blurred.

Bishop tightened his grip, choking the life out of him.

"Not so tough now, are you?"

Logan's fingers fumbled toward his belt.

Then he pulled a hidden knife and slashed Bishop's arm.

The chain loosened just enough for Logan to flip him over and pin him against the ground.

CRACK!

Logan drove his elbow into Bishop's jaw.

Bishop's head snapped back, but he retaliated with a brutal knee to Logan's ribs.

Logan staggered. Bishop grabbed the chain again and swung it like a whip.

SMASH!

The chain struck Logan across the temple, and everything went black.

Logan's body collapsed onto the bloodstained floor.

Bishop stood over him, breathing heavily.

He pulled out his phone. One call.

Bishop: "It's done. I've got him."

On the other end, Kane's voice hummed with amusement.

Kane: "Good. Bring him to me."

Bishop chuckled, wrapping the chain around Logan's wrists.

Game over.

For now.