Chapter 133

Jack studied Sherry's confident, aloof face, a flicker of complex emotion crossing his eyes. He had to admit—the woman before him had completely transformed.

Still, he shook his head and lowered his voice. "Your analysis is spot-on, but if they chose this position to strike, there's a good chance they've got backup nearby. Stay here. Don't move, and don't try to fight back."

Sherry's brow furrowed slightly. She was about to argue when she met Jack's unyielding gaze.

There was no macho protectiveness in those eyes—only the absolute calm of an apex predator.

"Trust me," Jack added softly.

Sherry bit her lower lip, then finally nodded. She pressed herself tightly into the shadow behind the boulder, suppressing every trace of her presence.

Jack took a deep breath and slipped silently from the other side of the rock.

The terrain at the summit became his best cover.

He used the rises and dips of the landscape to move through the brush like a cheetah.

Not a sound. Even his breathing synced perfectly with the mountain wind.

Thwip!

Another faint thud.

The second bullet grazed Jack's scalp, leaving a searing trail.

He'd been spotted!

Jack's eyes sharpened.

This killer was no amateur.

They'd found him that fast.

And their reaction time was lightning-quick—adjusting their aim the instant they detected movement.

Jack didn't pause. Instead, he used the split-second the bullet flew past to pinpoint the shooter's location.

Eight o'clock, 700 feet out, 50-foot elevation difference, in the crown of a thick Douglas fir.

For a gun, that distance was close.

For Jack, though, it was a bit far.

Covering 700 feet and taking someone out? Not exactly a walk in the park.

Jack didn't charge head-on. Instead, he used the terrain as cover and flanked from the side. His footsteps were as light as a cat's, each one landing on the thickest patches of fallen leaves to minimize sound.

Thirty seconds later, he reached the rocks directly beneath the fir tree.

He looked up through the gaps in the branches and spotted a figure in black tactical gear. The shooter was half-kneeling on a branch, rifle angled downward, scanning for him.

Jack didn't give them a chance to react.

His hands shot up, gripping the shooter's neck and twisting sharply.

Crack.

The killer didn't even have time to grunt. Their body went rigid and tumbled from the branch.

Jack moved in a flash. The instant the body fell, he reached out and caught it by the back, lowering it silently to the ground.

He crouched down and quickly searched the corpse.

No ID. No comms. Even the serial numbers on the weapons had been filed off.

A professional.

Jack frowned and pulled a tiny earpiece from the killer's tactical vest.

A faint electrical hum came through. Clearly, there were more of them.

Jack slipped the earpiece into his ear and took the rifle from the dead man's hands.

He stood, scanning the area.

"Shit, I lost him."

"Same here!"

"Me too."

"Lauren, can you see him?"

Three voices crackled through the earpiece.

So there were more.

Jack's eyes turned colder. He couldn't let his guard down.

From the chatter, Jack had already mapped out their rough positions.

When Lauren didn't respond, the other three must have figured Jack had taken him out.

They immediately cut the comms.

These were seasoned killers.

Jack grabbed Lauren's knife and melted back into the forest.

Soon enough.

Three more silent hunts unfolded at the summit.

Jack moved like death itself, hunting down the remaining three killers hidden in the shadows.

The first was tucked into a crevice between rocks. Jack came up from behind, clamped a hand over their mouth, and slit their throat in one smooth motion.

The second was crouched in the brush, about to fire, when Jack tackled them from the side. The blade plunged straight into their heart.

The third was the toughest.

He was hiding beneath the edge of a cliff, a viciously clever spot, and his reflexes were sharp.

When Jack closed in, the man spotted him almost instantly.

They clashed in close combat.

No gunfire. No shouting. Just the dull thuds of bodies colliding and the sharp whistle of knives slicing air.

Jack's movements were brutal and precise, every strike aimed at a vital point.

His opponent was no slouch either—clearly special-forces trained.

But Jack's combat experience far exceeded his imagination.

In a single crossing motion, Jack's left hand locked onto the man's wrist. His right hand reversed the grip on his knife and drove it upward into the man's ribs.

The killer's body jerked. He tried to struggle, but Jack pinned him to the ground.

Jack didn't give him a chance. He twisted the blade inside the man's ribs, then yanked it out.

The killer convulsed twice, then went still.

Jack stood, catching his breath.

He swept the area one more time.

Once he was certain it was safe.

Jack called Sherry out.

"Jack, are you okay?" The moment Sherry emerged, she rushed to him, eyes full of concern.

"I'm fine."

Jack smiled and shook his head.

He'd already dragged the four bodies into a pile.

After confirming Jack was unharmed, Sherry turned her gaze to the corpses on the ground.

Their gear was top-tier—identical black tactical suits, every identifying mark deliberately removed.

But then.

Sherry's brow furrowed.

A moment later, she crouched down and pulled a tiny metal badge from one man's collar.

The badge bore the image of a soaring eagle.

At the sight of it, Sherry's pupils contracted slightly.

"Black Eagle."

One of the most elite assassin organizations in the underworld. They specialized in high-difficulty hits, charged exorbitant fees, and never left survivors.

And as far as Sherry knew, Tyler's family had deep ties to this organization.

Which meant Tyler had sent these killers.

The realization hit her.

Sherry's expression turned ice-cold. Anyone who dared go after her man would regret it.

Originally, Sherry had been indifferent to Tyler. Out of respect for the long-standing relationship between their families, she'd kept to a live-and-let-live approach, not bothering with his arrogant nonsense.

But now.

He'd sent assassins after Jack.

That was unforgivable.

For Jack, she'd even break with her own family—let alone some irrelevant guy like Tyler. She was going to make him pay.