The air was still thick with the scent of jet fuel and scorched steel.
Spain's military had cordoned off the smoldering wreckage of the Antonov. Search teams combed through the debris. Amid twisted metal and charred crates, one body was pulled out barely clinging to life.
Owen Shaw.
Both legs shattered. Ribs crushed. Skull fractured. But alive.
They rushed him to a restricted medical facility near Rota Naval Base under heavy guard. Nobody outside government black ops knew but someone always found out.
Two Days Later – Secure Military Hospital, Southern Spain
Devon stood at the end of the stark white corridor, black coat draped over his shoulders, sunglasses hiding the steel in his eyes. On the chair outside Room 4B sat Deckard Shaw older, broader, a scar visible beneath his collarbone.
"Well, well," Deckard said, not looking up. "The famous Devon Shaw."
"You heard of me," Devon replied casually.
"I make it a point to know family. Especially the ones who aren't in jail."
Devon smirked. "You look like the type to escape on Thursdays for fun."
Deckard stood. The two locked eyes same height, same edge, same danger coiled beneath their calm.
Inside, Owen lay unconscious, tubes and machines keeping him barely stable.
"He got played," Deckard said. "Cipher gave him a list and a lie."
Devon's voice turned cold. "She used him. She put my family in a war zone."
Deckard's expression hardened. "You came here to kill her?"
"I came to end her world."
But then alarms blared. Red lights flashed. Devon's head snapped to the corridor.
Outside, boots pounded the pavement. Military personnel. Black ops.
Deckard snarled. "They're here for Owen."
Devon nodded. "Guess they don't want him talking."
Hospital Siege – 0200 Hours
Rounds tore through the walls. Smoke grenades bounced down the hall. Devon and Deckard moved like synchronized shadows one wielding dual pistols with ruthless efficiency, the other throwing knives and emptying suppressed mags with military precision.
In the chaos, Devon downloaded Owen's encrypted biometrics from the med computer. He left a backdoor open Owen wasn't dying today. Not if Devon could help it.
Deckard grabbed a tactical shotgun. "This way!"
They burst through a side hallway, neutralizing a strike team. Explosions rocked the floor below. Devon hacked the door panel. They made it to the roof as two helicopters thundered in.
Devon looked at Deckard. "We split here."
Deckard nodded. "If you find her first "
"I won't hesitate."
"I wouldn't expect you to."
They shook hands briefly, grimly and jumped into separate vehicles waiting below.
Three Hours Later – Continental Hotel, Rome
The lobby was quiet. Clean. Elegant. But behind the civility flowed the dark current of the underworld's elite.
Devon stepped up to the concierge. "I want a global contract issued."
"Name?" the concierge asked.
Devon slid over a sleek black drive. On the screen: Cipher.
"Category?" the concierge asked.
"Excommunicado. Open contract. No time limit. 10 million dollars. Alive, if possible. Dead... acceptable."
The concierge smiled faintly. "Understood. Shall I notify the High Table?"
"No. Let them wonder why I'm back."
Devon turned and walked out.
Behind him, the entire Continental system lit up. Across the globe, assassins, bounty hunters, mercenaries all got the same ping:
TARGET: CIPHERREWARD: $10,000,000STATUS: ACTIVE CONTRACT
Elsewhere…
Cipher, now on the run, changed identities in a smoky Morocco backroom, watching the bounty upload across her encrypted screens. Her eyes narrowed.
"Shaw… you think you're the hunter?"
She smiled darkly, slipping a new passport into her coat.
"I invented the game."