Chapter 5: Ethan Hunts.

The clock was ticking, and the mission was clear. Charles Grant, CEO of NeuraLink Logistics, had played his cards too well. Too much greed, too much power, and now, it was time to reclaim what was rightfully stolen from those who needed it most.

Ethan stood in the shadow of Grant's estate, crouched beneath a colossal oak tree, its ancient branches swaying with a quiet breeze. The wind carried the chill of an oncoming storm, but it didn't bother him. His focus was sharp, his breath steady. He could hear the faint hum of the security system, see the slow-moving drones patrolling above the massive mansion, their blinking lights the only sign of life.

His communicator crackled to life.

"All systems are green. You're clear for entry, Ethan." Royce's voice was smooth, calm, and measured—just the way it always was when he was on the other side of the tech.

Ethan's fingers flexed as he adjusted his gloves. He was wearing a black tactical suit, as silent as a shadow, with every inch of it designed for stealth. The weight of the mission was a quiet pressure on his chest, but he could shake it off. He'd done this before—slipped in, taken what was needed, and slipped out again.

Tonight, the rich would pay for their greed. Tonight, Ethan was the one doing the taking.

He slid the small grappling hook into place, firing it silently into the towering balcony above. The cable pulled loose with a soft hum. He pulled on it once to test it and began to climb, each motion fluid, practiced.

He moved like a ghost.

---

Ten minutes later, Ethan was inside, perched high above Grant's sprawling mansion. His eyes scanned the layout he'd memorized. Everything was as Royce had predicted: high-tech security, cameras on every corner, and guards patrolling every level. But none of it mattered. Ethan knew how to move undetected.

Royce's voice came through again. "I've disabled the outside cameras for the next five minutes. You're good."

The mansion was a compartment of luxury—marble floors, glass walls, and intricate security systems designed to catch anyone without the skills to bypass them. But Ethan was more than equipped for this.

The first obstacle was the laser grid blocking his path into the core of the mansion.

Royce's voice cut through the silence. "Activate the EMP generator, Ethan. I've scrambled the grids on your side."

Ethan didn't hesitate. He pulled a small device from his pocket and pressed the button. A soft whine filled the air, followed by the quiet snap of the lasers powering down.

The path was clear. He moved forward, a whisper in the night.

---

The vault was deep within the mansion, protected by biometric locks, reinforced steel, and high-level guards. It was the perfect place for the money Grant had stolen. But Ethan wasn't worried. He'd broken into more secure places than this, and he was ready.

He moved through the halls with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before. His heart rate stayed steady, each step a deliberate strike against the system.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps. A guard.

Ethan froze, melting into the shadows of a nearby pillar. His breath was shallow, his heart pounding in his ears. He could see the guard's silhouette passing by, but he didn't make a sound.

The guard's boots clicked, getting closer. The tension in the air was thick, and for a moment, it felt like time had stopped. The guard was just a few steps away. Ethan clenched his fists, ready to spring into action, when Royce's voice rang in his ear.

"Now."

In one fluid motion, Ethan stepped out from the shadows and knocked the guard out cold with a swift punch to the side of his head. The guard crumpled to the floor without a sound. Ethan moved the body into an alcove and continued onward.

"Good work, but you've got ten minutes before the security feeds reset," Royce warned.

Ethan nodded, even though Royce couldn't see him. He was moving faster now, the vault was close.

---

He reached the vault door, which loomed like a monolith in the center of a grand corridor. The technology in front of him was advanced—biometric recognition, retinal scans, the whole package. But it was nothing he couldn't handle.

He pulled a small device from his belt—a portable retinal scanner—flipping it on. It hummed for a moment before displaying a digital overlay of the guard's retina. The device synced with the vault's security system and, within seconds, the door clicked open. Ethan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Inside, piles of cash filled the vault. Bags upon bags, stacks upon stacks—millions, the result of countless innocent lives being drained for the gain of men like Charles Grant. Ethan didn't waste time.

He quickly set to work, grabbing the cash in large duffel bags.

"Mission success," Royce said, his voice smooth and calculated. "Head for the exit."

But just as Ethan turned to leave, the security alarm blared.

"Shit."

The vault door slammed shut, sealing him inside. Ethan cursed under his breath. He could hear the sounds of guards rushing toward him.

"Ethan, you've got ten seconds before they lock the mansion down. Get out now!"

Ethan didn't hesitate. He bolted for the exit, sprinting down the hall with the duffel bags slung over his shoulder. The hallway was narrow, the walls lined with portraits of a man who had built his empire off the suffering of others. Ethan's eyes narrowed.

He could hear the thumping of footsteps behind him as guards closed in.

"I've got you covered," Royce's voice came through again. "The east side elevator's clear, but you need to move fast."

Ethan turned the corner, only to find himself face-to-face with a group of heavily armed guards. There was no time for subtlety now.

Without missing a beat, Ethan whipped around, tossing one of the duffel bags at the first guard, throwing him off balance. He followed up with a low kick to the second guard's knee, sending him tumbling to the ground. In a blur, Ethan drew two handguns and fired—one shot for each guard. Both fell to the floor, unconscious.

He grabbed the duffel bags and continued to the elevator. His heart pounded as he pressed the button, and the door slid open.

But the huge enforcer was waiting.

He had a face like a bulldozer, a wide, heavy build, and the kind of presence that made the air feel thicker. His hand was already reaching for the pistol tucked into his waistband.

Ethan's instincts kicked in. He dove to the side as the enforcer's gun fired, the bullet missing him by inches. He scrambled behind a column, hearing the heavy footsteps pounding after him. The enforcer's voice boomed through the hallway.

"You can't outrun me, little man."

Ethan's fingers itched for his own weapon, but the enforcer was too fast. The huge man appeared from around the column and raised his gun.

"Goodbye, kid."

He pulled the trigger.

But before the bullet could leave the chamber, there was a loud bang. The enforcer's head snapped back, his body crumpling to the floor in a heap.

Ethan froze, his heart racing.

He didn't have time to think. The body of the enforcer was still twitching as Ethan scanned the hallway for any sign of movement. But there was nothing. The figure that had just saved him had vanished into thin air.

Ethan's breath hitched, his mind racing with questions.

Who the hell just saved me?

But there was no time to wonder. He grabbed the duffel bags and made his way to the exit. Royce was waiting for him on the other side.

"You okay?" Royce asked, his voice urgent.

Ethan slammed the door behind him and jumped into his car. He sped off, the tires screeching against the pavement as he hit the gas.

His mind kept spinning as he glanced into the rearview mirror. Who had saved him? Why did it feel like someone had been watching over him? And most importantly—who had taken that shot?

There were too many questions and not enough answers.

But one thing was certain.

The night wasn't over yet.