The Blood Moon Rises

Chapter 13

Orion never slept.

Beneath the neon glow and towering skyscrapers, the city pulsed with life—dealmakers whispering in shadowy backrooms, mercenaries loading weapons in abandoned warehouses, and the elite clinking glasses in penthouse lounges, unaware that the balance of power was shifting beneath their feet.

And at the center of it all, Damien Xander stood at the precipice of war.

Tonight, the hunt began.

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The Warehouse District – Midnight

The scent of rain hung thick in the air, mixing with the acrid tang of gasoline and gunpowder. A full moon loomed overhead, casting a crimson hue over the city, earning the night its name—the Blood Moon.

Reed Donovan adjusted his earpiece, his sharp eyes scanning the old shipping yard. "Warehouse 17. That's where they're keeping the data servers. Intel says Victor's people are here to secure the last remaining financial records before they erase them."

Damien stood beside him, dressed in all black, his presence an extension of the darkness itself. His gaze was locked onto the building ahead, but his mind was already five moves ahead, planning every possible outcome.

"How many inside?" he asked.

Elias Creed—the former Widowmaker—perched on a nearby crate, spinning a silencer onto his pistol. "Rough estimate? Thirty, maybe forty. Half are hired security. The rest… well, let's just say Victor's running out of professionals and scraping the bottom of the barrel."

Damien smirked. "Desperation makes people reckless." He reached for his comms. "Kiera, you in position?"

A voice crackled through his earpiece, smooth yet laced with mischief. "Always."

High above, nestled on the rooftop of an adjacent building, Kiera Voss adjusted the scope on her sniper rifle. She was new to Damien's team—an ex-black ops assassin with a reputation for never missing a shot. Her dark auburn hair was tied back, and the moonlight reflected in her piercing green eyes.

"Say the word, boss," she murmured.

Damien inhaled deeply, his pulse steady. "We move in silent. No alarms. No survivors."

Reed nodded. "Let's end this."

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Inside Warehouse 17

The security team patrolled the long, dimly lit corridors of the facility, their boots echoing off concrete floors. Rows of shipping containers lined the space, hiding unseen dangers in their metallic depths. In the heart of the warehouse, glowing monitors displayed live financial data—Victor's final attempt to secure his wealth.

A man in a gray suit tapped furiously on a keyboard. "We need five more minutes!" he barked. "Tell the guards to hold their damn positions!"

Unfortunately for him, he only had seconds left.

A whisper of movement. A flicker of shadow.

And then—

Death descended.

Damien moved like a phantom, his blade slicing through the throat of the nearest guard before the man could even register his presence. The second guard turned, his mouth opening to scream—BANG. A silenced shot from Elias took him out before a sound could escape.

The team swept through the warehouse with ruthless precision. Kiera's rifle barked from above, dropping enemies one by one with pinpoint accuracy. Reed took down a group of reinforcements with brutal efficiency, his combat knife finding flesh before they even drew their weapons.

Damien reached the control room just as the last man standing—a desperate-looking technician—grabbed a pistol with shaking hands.

"Wait—!" the man pleaded.

CRACK.

Damien's fist shattered his nose, sending him crumpling to the ground. Blood poured from his face as he whimpered.

"Where's the backup drive?" Damien asked, his voice eerily calm.

The man shook his head furiously. "I—I don't know! I was just told to wipe the data!"

Damien glanced at the monitor. Progress: 92% Complete.

Time was running out.

Without hesitation, he grabbed the man by the collar and hurled him into the desk, sending shards of glass and electronics flying. "You have one chance," Damien said, his grip tightening. "Tell me where it is, or I let Elias have fun with you."

Elias, ever the sadist, flashed a wolfish grin. "Please say no. It's been a while since I got creative."

The technician sobbed, scrambling to type on the keyboard. "There! There! The external drive—it's in Locker C-12!"

Damien released him and turned to Reed. "Retrieve it. We're done here."

Just as Reed moved toward the locker—

BOOM.

An explosion rocked the warehouse, sending fire and debris into the air. The force knocked Damien backward, and alarms blared to life. The shadows of approaching figures flickered against the smoke-filled walls.

Reed coughed, pushing himself up. "Shit. That wasn't us."

Damien narrowed his eyes. "Then who?"

A slow, deliberate clapping echoed through the chamber.

From the smoke emerged a towering figure dressed in tactical gear, a scar running from his forehead to his jaw. His eyes burned with amusement as he strode forward, flanked by six elite soldiers in full combat gear.

Damien's muscles tensed. He recognized this man.

Ronan Cade.

A former warlord, now a mercenary for hire. Rumors whispered that he had once fought entire armies single-handedly and walked away unscathed.

Ronan's lips curled into a smirk. "You've been making a mess, Xander. Victor doesn't like messes."

Damien cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders. "And let me guess—you're here to clean it up?"

Ronan's grin widened. "Something like that." He raised a hand. "Kill them."

The room erupted into chaos.

Kiera's sniper rifle cracked, taking out two soldiers before they could react. Reed lunged forward, dispatching another with a clean throat slit. Elias ducked beneath gunfire, rolling behind a crate and returning fire.

Damien—

Damien moved like a god of war.

He weaved between enemies with inhuman speed, dodging bullets by mere inches. His blade flashed through the air, slicing through Kevlar like paper. He grabbed one soldier by the throat and slammed him into the wall with bone-crushing force before spinning into a roundhouse kick that sent another flying.

In a matter of seconds, the elite squad was reduced to corpses.

Ronan remained standing, slow clapping once more. "Impressive."

Damien wiped blood from his blade. "You're next."

Ronan chuckled. "Not tonight." He pulled out a detonator and pressed the button.

The ceiling collapsed.

The warehouse caved in, metal and concrete raining down. In the chaos, Ronan disappeared into the smoke, his laughter echoing as he vanished into the night.

Damien and his team barely managed to escape through a side exit, emerging into the cold night air as the warehouse crumbled behind them.

Breathing heavily, Kiera holstered her rifle. "Well, that was dramatic."

Elias smirked. "I like him. He's got flair."

Damien stared into the distance, fists clenched.

This wasn't over.

Ronan Cade had just declared war.

And Damien would answer in kind.

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