Chapter 3 3

Zurich was colder than Sandy expected. The sky was the color of unspoken warnings-thick clouds threatening snow, and an air that felt like it could slice through steel. The private jet touched down just after dusk, its engines quiet as the team disembarked into a secure terminal guarded by Knightly operatives already in position.

Tino Knightly moved like a man born into conflict-one eye on the shadows, one hand resting near the concealed weapon beneath his coat. Beside him, Sandy Rhune adjusted her black trench coat, her jaw set in quiet determination.

"This city feels too clean," she muttered.

Tino glanced sideways. "That's why it's dangerous. Zurich hides its sins in white gloves and polished marble."

Their SUV glided through quiet streets-past luxury boutiques, watch shops, and discreet banks whose vaults had held more than gold.

"Penn's burner pinged last at a private residence near the old district," said Rocca, driving with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping his Glock. "The place belongs to an Evelyn Drazen front-calls itself a pharmaceutical innovation hub."

Sandy arched a brow. "They're hiding arms dealers in a drug lab?"

Tino smirked. "You'd be amazed what passes for innovation these days."

They pulled up at a long, modernist building tucked between old-world apartments. Security cameras panned silently as the team approached through a back alley.

"We're going in silent," Tino said. "Sandy, stay close. Rocca and I sweep. If Penn's here-we take him alive."

"And if Drazen's here?" Sandy asked.

Tino's face turned to stone. "Then we bury him."

-

The building interior was clinical. White walls, LED-lit halls, rooms labeled in Swiss and Latin. But beneath the sterile quiet, Sandy felt something else. Something rotten.

They reached a reinforced door at the far end. Rocca hacked the panel in seconds.

The door slid open.

Inside: a lounge-like office. Low light. Plush seats. And standing near the window, arms crossed and face unreadable-

Salvatore Penn.

"About time," he said coolly, not reaching for a weapon.

Tino stepped forward, gun raised. "You ran."

"I relocated."

"You betrayed me."

"I survived, Tino," Penn snapped. "You built an empire on loyalty, but you never saw the cracks forming beneath your throne. I did. Drazen offered me an escape. You offered me... expectations."

Tino's gun didn't waver. "Where is Victor?"

Penn's smirk faltered. "Closer than you think."

Before anyone could react, the windows exploded inward. Flashbangs detonated with searing light and sound. Sandy dropped behind a table as Rocca dragged her down, bullets shredding the wall above them.

Screams echoed. Penn dove through a side door as masked shooters stormed in, firing suppressed weapons with deadly precision.

Tino returned fire, ducking behind a marble pillar. "Extraction! Now!"

Sandy crawled to cover, ears ringing, heart slamming in her chest. She saw Tino sprint through smoke after Penn, disappearing down a corridor.

"Stay with her!" he ordered Rocca.

"Like hell!" Sandy shouted, breaking into a run.

Rocca cursed and followed, just as more bullets chewed into the hallway walls.

-

Tino slammed through a steel door into a stairwell. Ahead, Penn raced up the steps toward the rooftop.

"Don't do it, Sal!" Tino shouted.

Penn didn't answer.

On the roof, the wind was vicious. Helicopter blades churned the air overhead-a sleek black craft descending fast, doors already open.

Victor Drazen stood inside.

His face, finally revealed, was pale and angular. His eyes were voids-cold, calculated, ageless. He smiled as Penn sprinted toward the skids.

Then he raised a silenced pistol... And shot him in the back.

Penn dropped with a stunned gasp, blood blooming across his chest. Sandy and Rocca arrived just as Tino reached him.

"You..." Penn gasped, grabbing Tino's coat. "You were right..."

Tino knelt beside him, rage twisting his features. "Where is Drazen going?"

But Penn only choked once, then went still.

Above, Drazen saluted mockingly-and the helicopter vanished into the clouds.

-

They were gone.

The rooftop was silent again, save for the wail of distant sirens and the soft rush of snow beginning to fall.

Rocca swore under his breath. "This was a setup."

Tino stood, fists clenched, his face carved from fury.

"He let us get close just to burn the lead."

Sandy stepped beside him, shaken but grounded. "Why show himself now?"

"Because this is personal," Tino said, voice low. "He wanted me to see him. To know he's always one step ahead."

"He killed Cole, didn't he?" Sandy asked softly.

Tino looked at her, the answer already in his eyes. "Yes."

The truth cracked something open in her chest-grief laced with rage.

"I won't stop," she said. "I want him brought down. I want every secret, every lie burned to the ground."

Tino reached out, touched her wrist. "Then stay close. This is only the beginning."

She met his gaze. "I'm not afraid of shadows anymore."

"Good," he murmured. "Because we're going to war."

-

Later that night, back at the Zurich safehouse, Sandy stared at herself in the mirror. She looked the same-same eyes, same frame-but something was different. Hardened. Sharpened.

She wasn't a journalist hunting headlines anymore.

She was a sister chasing vengeance. A woman standing shoulder to shoulder with the most dangerous man she'd ever met-and realizing she belonged in the fire. A soft knock sounded behind her. Tino entered, holding a small box.

"What's that?" she asked.

He opened it to reveal a compact pistol. Matte black. Lightweight.

"I want you to carry this from now on," he said.

"I don't shoot."

"You will if you have to."

She took it slowly. It felt heavier than she expected- not in weight, but in meaning.

Tino stepped closer. "You did good tonight."

Sandy looked up at him, caught in his orbit again. "So did you. Except for letting the ghost slip away."

He chuckled, low and dark. "I'll catch him. One way or another."

There was a pause- long enough for breath to catch between them.

"Tino..."

He brushed a thumb across her jaw, his voice low. "Tell me to stop."

She didn't.

When his mouth found hers, it wasn't soft. It was fire and confession, heat and something dangerously close to need. She kissed him back, because she was tired of pretending the line between them still mattered.

But when they broke apart, it wasn't lust that lingered. It was something worse. Hope. Something neither of them could afford.

Sandy sat alone on the balcony of the Zurich safehouse, the city a haze of lights and frost beneath her. Her fingers curled around the pistol Tino had given her, the weapon resting cold in her lap. She hadn't fired it-yet-but somehow it already felt like a part of her.

She thought about Cole.

About how his voice used to sound in the morning when he called from faraway places, always teasing her to keep out of trouble. Always looking out for her, even from behind enemy lines. He had trusted Tino. Had given his life to something he believed could change the world-for the better.

Now Cole was dead.

And the man who murdered him had just flown away into the night with a smile on his face.

"Drazen," she whispered.

It wasn't just a name anymore. It was a storm on the horizon. And she would walk into it, if it meant answers.

Footsteps approached behind her.

"You okay?" Tino asked, voice low.

She didn't turn. "Define okay."

He stood beside her, arms folded across his chest. "I've learned not to ask that question anymore. People just lie."

"I'm not lying," she said. "I'm... changing."

Tino looked down at her, something unreadable in his gaze. "The people in our world-they don't change. They harden. They learn how to live with blood on their hands."

"I'm not one of your soldiers."

"No. You're something else entirely. That's what makes this dangerous."

"For me or for you?"

Tino didn't answer. Instead, he slid a file onto the table beside her.

Sandy picked it up, her eyes scanning the contents. Photos. Financial logs. A memo from a private intelligence firm, heavily redacted.

"This is... Cole's last assignment?"

Tino nodded. "Before he died, he was tracking a connection between Evelyn Drazen's shell companies and a missing shipment of biochemical agents-unregistered, untraceable. Something the black market has been whispering about for months."

Sandy's throat tightened. "He thought they were building a weapon."

Tino's jaw worked. "He thought Drazen was planning something bigger than anything we'd seen. That he was going to make his return not just personal-but global."

"And now Penn's dead."

"Which means we're out of leads."

Sandy shook her head. "No. There's always something. Someone else who knows."

Tino arched a brow. "You're thinking like an operator now."

"I'm thinking like someone who wants to make Drazen bleed."

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the city below.

Then Sandy turned to him. "You ever lose someone you couldn't save?"

Tino looked away. "Every day."

He walked off the balcony, the door swinging shut behind him.

-

Hours later, the team gathered in the Zurich operations room. Rocca leaned over a bank of monitors, files spread in front of him, while Tino and Sandy stood behind.

"We dug into Evelyn Drazen's business partners," Rocca said. "There's one name that keeps coming up-Jakob Hess. Swiss banker, connected to offshore accounts laundering money through dummy charities."

Sandy frowned. "And he's still breathing?"

"He's protected. Public-facing. No criminal record. But if Evelyn needed a cleaner-he's the guy."

Tino nodded. "Where is he now?"

Rocca tapped a screen. "Hosting a gala. Tonight. Kunsthaus Zürich. High security. Big guest list."

Sandy smirked. "Sounds like a party."

"You're not seriously suggesting we go?" Rocca asked.

Tino turned to Sandy. "You up for it?"

She lifted the pistol from the table and slipped it into her handbag. "Let's crash it."

-

The Kunsthaus Zürich was bathed in gold and silver. Luxury cars pulled up to the red carpet as men in tuxedos and women in diamonds stepped into the warmth of curated extravagance. Inside, waiters floated through the crowd with champagne, and laughter echoed beneath priceless paintings.

Sandy looked stunning.

A sleek black dress hugged her frame, her hair pinned up, revealing the soft line of her throat. She moved through the gala like smoke-dangerous, unnoticed.

Tino was at her side in a tailored black suit, blending into the crowd like he belonged there. And in a way, he did. His name wasn't on the list, but his presence made everyone part without question.

"There," Sandy whispered, nodding to a pale man with silver spectacles near the sculpture wing. "Jakob Hess."

"I'll intercept him. You watch the exits."

Before she could respond, Tino was already moving.

He approached Hess smoothly, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a champagne flute.

"Mr. Hess," he said, voice polished with charm. "A pleasure."

Hess turned, blinking. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"You should," Tino said with a smile. "Because if I were you, I'd want to know who was about to tear your perfect life apart."

Hess paled.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about."

"You laundered money for Evelyn Drazen," Tino said calmly. "You funded black ops through clean accounts. And you have thirty seconds to start talking before I put a bullet in your kneecap right here beside Monet's garden."

Hess swallowed. "You're insane."

"No," Tino said. "I'm desperate."

Sandy watched from across the room, tense, hand hovering near her purse. Security guards were starting to take notice.

Then Hess cracked.

"There's a vault," he hissed. "Geneva. Under the old Cathedral district. Access code only Evelyn has. But Drazen... he's planning something in Marseille. A demonstration."

Tino's eyes narrowed. "Of what?"

"Of fear."

Suddenly, Hess's body jerked forward. A dart protruded from his neck. He collapsed, seizing. Tino dropped his glass and spun. A man in a waiter's uniform melted into the crowd, fleeing through the back hallway.

"Tino!" Sandy shouted, already running.

Tino bolted after the assassin, weaving through stunned guests and shattered glasses. He chased the man through the museum's rear, out into the snow-dusted gardens.

Gunfire cracked once- twice-echoing into the dark. And then silence. Sandy reached him seconds later. The assassin was gone. But the message was clear. Drazen was watching... And no one was safe.