Chaos thundered behind them, but their feet kept moving — faster, harder — desperate to outrun the night.

  The trio burst out of the alley like runners breaking the red tape of an Olympic race, but no finish line waited. Only danger ahead.

  They froze.

  Six soldiers blocked the street, rifles rising with a harsh—

  CHK-CHK!

  “Remember,” one barked, voice distorted behind his mask, “HQ wants him alive if possible.”

  Another let out a low laugh. “Alive doesn’t mean unbroken.”

  Ayasha dropped low, knees bent, body coiled like a panther. Her hands flexed once.

  “We can’t outrun them,” she said flatly. “We fight.”

  Cael leaned close, voice low. “Don’t show it unless you have to.”

  Lior caught the words but not the meaning. Show what?

  The soldiers moved first. One lunged, swinging his rifle like a club—

  WHAM!

  Ayasha’s heel snapped up, cracking his helmet and sending him sprawling. She landed light and slid into the next strike.

  Another charged Cael. Instinct took over. He caught the man’s wrist mid-swing, twisted, and flipped him over his hip—

  THUD!

  Cael blinked down, stunned. Did I just—?

  But hesitation was danger.

  A third soldier rushed in. Lior stepped forward in front of Cael, body moving on instinct. He sidestepped with eerie calm, pivoted, and dragged the man down—

  SLAM!

  The soldier didn’t rise.

  Adrenaline surged. Confusion too.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Lior saw Ayasha and Cael — faster, sharper, more precise than he’d ever seen in training. Almost practiced.

  Almost like they’d been holding back all this time.

  His focus slipped—

  CRACK!

  The rifle butt smashed into his shoulder, spinning him off-balance. Breath ripped from his chest.

  The soldier raised a boot, ready to stomp—

  “Wake up!” Ayasha’s voice cut through like fire.

  She intercepted, blocking the stomp with her forearm, then shoved the man back. He staggered, dazed. Her glare hit Lior like a slap.

  “What are you doing?! This isn’t the time to drift off!”

  The words struck harder than the blow. His mind cleared.

  “R-right…”

  Together, they fought on.

  Ayasha slid between two soldiers, elbow smashing ribs, backfist cracking a jaw. Both dropped before they could breathe.

  Cael rolled, grabbed a rusted pipe, and deflected a swing—

  CLANG!

  Sparks flew. He jabbed into the attacker’s ribs and swept his legs—

  THUD!

  Seconds later, all six were down. The trio stood panting, sweat dripping, adrenaline shaking through them.

  Lior managed a half-laugh.

  “Good thing you guys started training with me in sixth grade. Now I understand why they always—”

  The grin faded. Shadows crept across his face. The weight of what had just happened — of what was still happening — settled over him.

  ?

  The night air cut sharp against their lungs as they ran through broken streets.

  Shoes pounded in uneven rhythm.

  Thmp-thmp-thmp.

  Then another sound joined — low, mechanical.

  From behind crumbling storefronts, an armored SUV emerged, gliding like a predator from the deep.

  Its headlights stayed off, grille flashing slivers of moonlight — chrome teeth in the dark.

  Lior’s hand shot out, yanking Ayasha back before she stepped into the street. He pressed her against the wall, palm steady over her mouth. Cael crowded beside them, breathing hard.

  The SUV prowled forward — smooth, slow, hunting. Its armor caught fading orange light, then slipped back into shadow.

  Ayasha rubbed her head from where she’d hit the wall. “Hey, that hu—”

  “Shhh.” Lior’s whisper came sharp, inches from her ear. “Don’t move.”

  A window slid down —

  One glint of an eye. Cold. Deliberate.

  Whoever sat inside wasn’t chasing.

  He was hunting.

  The vehicle rolled past. Silent. Unhurried. Vanishing around the corner.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Lior exhaled, still watching the street. “Who was that…?”

  Cael’s voice came tight. “I’d rather not find out.”

  Lior’s gaze lingered a moment longer.

  “Looks like we’re clear — for now.”

  He swallowed hard.

  “Brock told me about a safe house on the outskirts. If anything ever happened… that’s where we go.”

  Ayasha flicked a glance over her shoulder. “Then let’s move before someone else does.”

  ?

  But above, from the rooftops…

  The truth revealed itself.

  The vehicle wasn’t leaving.

  It was circling.

  Herding them.

  Cael’s foot snagged on uneven concrete — he stumbled.

  Lior hooked him under the shoulder, pulling him upright.

  “We’re almost there,” he gasped, though doubt churned deep.

  Then they saw it — the SUV waiting beneath a flickering lamp.

  Its engine rumbled low, a predator’s growl.

  Brakes hissed—

  Skrrrrr—

  It wasn’t chasing anymore.

  It was waiting.

  They skidded to a stop, breath steaming, bodies trembling between the need to run and the instinct to freeze.

  The SUV door opened —

  Slow. Deliberate.

  ?

  The man who stepped out looked like famine made flesh.

  Tall, gaunt, coat swaying heavy in the night air.

  A wide-brimmed hat shadowed his face, but what light touched it made Lior’s stomach twist.

  A blade-like nose. Hollow cheeks. Eyes sunk deep — gleaming faintly, cold and predatory.

  The ember of his cigarette glowed like a second pupil. Smoke crawled down his coat, dragging across the pavement as if drawn to him.

  He leaned against the hood like the cracked street was his porch, one boot crossed over the other. The engine purred behind him.

  His shadow stretched long. Reaching for their feet.

  “You’re the golden boy, huh?”

  His voice came low, an old-west drawl dragged across gravel.

  A cruel smirk tugged his mouth.

  “…Name’s Trigger. And you’re about to make my stocks rise in this organization.”

  ───────────────

  COLT “TRIGGER” MADDOX

  Potestas | Rank 3 | US Division

  ───────────────

  One eye flickered under the brim. The other buried in shadow.

  Every line of him screamed predator — patient, calculating, inevitable.

  “Now…” his voice dropped darker, “…let’s see what the higher-ups are so afraid of.”

  The cigarette ember fell—

  Hssssss.

  Smoke curled up his shoulders as he straightened. The streetlight flickered — once, twice — then dimmed.

  As if the world itself refused to witness this.

  For a heartbeat, Lior couldn’t move.

  His chest hammered.

  This can’t be real.

  No… this has to be a dream.

  Wake up. Wake up!

  The air warped.

  His inner voice splintered — and became Brock’s.

  Wake up, Lior.

  ?

  Lior jerked upright at the kitchen table, cereal bowl half-finished, morning light bleeding through blinds.

  Brock’s hand landed on his shoulder.

  “Wake up, old man.”

  Anya’s laugh cut through the quiet as she ran in, Cael and Ayasha arguing about basketball and robotics like it was any other day.

  Lior blinked, dazed, heart pounding.

  What… was that? Who was that man?

  Brock rinsed a bowl. “That dream again?”

  “Yes,” Lior muttered. “But different this time.”

  From the garage, Kalu’s deep voice boomed over weights clanging:

  “Told you to get that boy some magnesium.”

  Ayasha slapped Lior’s neck. “We gotta go. We’re gonna be late.”

  They were almost out the door — Ayasha swinging it open, Cael smirking, Lior still quiet under the nightmare’s weight.

  And then…

  There he was.

  Trigger.

  The brim of his hat shadowed his face, cigarette glowing like a burning eye. His revolver gleamed dull in the half-light.

  He didn’t announce himself. He didn’t need to.

  He simply raised the weapon and fired.

  BANG! — Brock staggered, blood splashing the floor.

  BANG! — Carter dropped, eyes wide.

  BANG! — Rei crumpled, tea spilling like ink.

  BANG! — Anya barely moved before the fourth shot tore through her chest.

  BANG! — Kalu reached for his rifle — and collapsed.

  Cigarette smoke and gunfire merged in the air. Trigger exhaled slow, deliberate…

  Tasting the ruin he’d made.

  Lior couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream. Only watch as the people who raised him fell.

  This can’t be real.

  No… this has to be a dream.

  Wake up. Wake up!

  For one suspended moment — dream and waking life slammed together.

  The room bent around him, shapes sliding, colors breaking apart like glass. For one suspended moment it felt like dream and waking life had crashed together, fusing into something he couldn’t escape.

  Reality fractured. Conscience had broken. The nightmare was no longer a dream.

  Darkness rushed.

  End of Chapter 4.

  Every detail of this dream matters. Every person who falls here will echo later.