<b>Chapter </b><b>232 </b>


    “Shadow’s death <b>was </b>unfortunate,” JOKER continued. “But it was her fate. I don’t know what she told you, but regardless of her words<b>, </b>I’m sure you understand the power Shadow Organization wields.”


    I remained silent, calcting distances, angles, potential weapons.


    “I don’t want to be your enemy,” JOKER said. “Perhaps we can negotiate. This conflict between us–it only leads to mutual destruction.”


    He paused, letting his next words hang heavy in the air.


    “But you have family and friends. One mercenary from Titan Defense Group was enough to lead you here, to leave you vulnerable. I could send operatives to Cloud City, to New York, and eliminate everyone you care about.”


    I felt my jaw tighten.


    “Why sacrifice yourself for a dead woman? As they say, every man for himself. Think about it.”


    “Before you took Zach, I wasn’t nning to make the entire Shadow Organization pay for what happened to Shadow,” I said, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “But now? You all die.”


    In one fluid motion, I flung a knife toward Whisper, aiming for the hand holding theptop. Simultaneously, I executed a backflip thatnded me on a lower section of the second–floor tform. The knife hit its mark, and Whisper cursed as theptop ttered to the floor.


    Eight Shadow operatives emerged froin various hiding spots around the factory floor.


    I drew my gun and fired twice, taking down the two closest agents with precision headshots. A third rushed me with abat knife, but I sidestepped, grabbed his wrist, and used his momentum to send him tumbling over the railing to the concrete floor below.


    “In all my years with Shadow Organization,” Selene called out as she circled to nk me, “I’ve never seen this many operatives deployed for a single target.”


    Whisper advanced from the other side, his injured hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage. “Why did Shadow train you to destroy us? What did she tell you? Why did she betray the organization?”


    “Betray?” Iughed, a cold sound that echoed through the factory.


    “What-” Whisper began, but I cut him off with a roundhouse kick that caught him in the ribs.


    The fight intensified. I moved through the Shadow operatives like a deadly dancer, each movement precise and lethal. I dispatched agent after agent until only Selene and Whisper remained.


    We shifted from de work to pure hand–to–handbat, a brutal ballet of strikes, blocks, and counters. I caught


    Whisper with a side kick that sent him crashing into a wall with bone–jarring force.


    “You fight exactly like her,” Selene hissed, blood trickling from a split lip.


    The moment Whisper recovered<b>, </b>he lunged not for me, but toward the control for Zach’s rope. My heart stopped as I realized his intention.


    “No!” I shouted, diving toward him, but I was too far away.


    Whisper shed the rope with a knife, and Zach began to plummet toward the concrete floor. In desperation, <b>I </b>kicked a dead operative’s body into position beneath him, providing some cushioning for his fall. It wasn’t ideal, but it might prevent fatal injuries.


    Whisper tried to escape through a broken window, but I caught him by the cor and yanked him back. His head cracked against the wall<b>, </b>but he was still conscious enough to reach into his pocket and throw a handful of white


    powder directly into my face.


    I felt the burning immediately–my eyes, my nasal passages, my throat. I stumbled back, coughing violently, but maintained enough presence of mind to lunge forward, grabbing Whisper by the head. With one brutal, practiced motion, I twisted sharply, feeling the vertebrae snap beneath my hands. He went limp instantly, dead before his body crumpled to the ground.


    I frantically searched his body for an antidote, finding nothing. Through increasingly blurry vision, I saw Selene slip out of the factory, taking advantage of my incapacitation.


    By the time I made it to Zach, my vision was nearly gone. I checked his pulse–weak but present. My phone had been destroyed in the fight, crushed under someone’s boot. I had no way to call Lawrence or anyone else for help.


    I knelt beside Zach, my mind racing through options. How the hell was I going to get him to a hospital when I couldn’t even see?


    That’s when I heard footsteps approaching–light, measured, unfamiliar. I immediately tensed, reaching into my pocket where I’d stashed the medallion.


    “Miss Morgan?” a male voice called out, one I recognized from its distinctive cadence.


    “Loki?” I said, not bothering to hide my surprise.


    “Need some help?” he asked, his voice closer now.