Chapter 14 · First Blood: The Theft

"Don't move, or I'll carve your eyes out through your throat," a voice hissed from the air.

Kane didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. He just felt the cold, shimmering edge of a mono-filament blade press against the side of his neck. One twitch, and his head would slide off like a hot knife through butter.

"You're fast," Kane said, his voice sounding like grinding gravel. "But you're shaking. Why is that?"

"Shut up!" The invisible pressure tightened. "You're the specimen. The zero-asset. You're coming with me, or you're dying right here in the dirt."

Beside him, Lyra froze. She had been halfway through a diagnostic scan of the ruins, her tablet humming in her grip. She looked at the empty air where the threat was coming from, then at Kane. Her eyes wide, her breath hitching.

"Kane, don't," she whispered. "He's a Ghost-class agent. You can't hit what you can't see."

Kane’s lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile. It was more of a predator's twitch. He could feel it now—the ripple in the air, the slight displacement of heat.