Chapter 189

Chapter 189
Ajax’s POV
Athens at night is a living thing.
It breathes. It hides. It remembers blood.
I’m already running when the alert comes through that Nikos didn’t die in the tunnels. The bastard crawled out through an old drainage spillway and vanished into the city. Injured. Desperate. Dangerous.
That makes him lethal.
Streetlights blur past as our convoy tears through the city. Sirens off. Headlights low. The engine growls beneath me like it shares my rage. Ares sits beside me, jaw locked, fingers flexing like he’s already breaking someone’s neck in his head. Demetri drives like the devil himself is chasing us.
“He’s bleeding,” Demetri says sharply. “He won’t last long.”
“Long enough to talk,” I answer. “That’s all I need.”
The radio crackles with updates. Cameras. Traffic feeds. A stolen car spotted heading south. Toward the coast.
Of course.
Athens funnels you there when you’re out of roads and out of lies.
We catch sight of him near Piraeus. His car clips a curb, sparks flying as he loses control and slams into a parked truck. Metal screams. Glass explodes.
We’re out before the dust settles.
Gunfire erupts instantly.
Nikos stumbles out of the wreck, firing wildly. Bullets ricochet off concrete, shattering windows, sending civilians screaming into doorways. Ares returns fire without hesitation, precise and lethal. Demetri flanks left, moving like a shadow between crates and cargo containers.
The harbor smells like salt and fuel and old rot.
Perfect place to die.
Nikos runs again, limping badly now, blood soaking through his pants. He disappears between stacked shipping containers painted with rust and graffiti. We follow, boots pounding, weapons raised.
My heart isn’t racing from fear.
It’s racing from fury.
“You can’t run forever,” I shout. “You already lost.”
He fires back blindly. A bullet grazes my shoulder, hot and angry. Pain flares but I barely register it.
Ares curses. “He’s heading for the pier.”
We burst out into open space.
Black water stretches endlessly ahead. Waves slap against concrete pylons. The moon paints everything silver and cruel.
Nikos stumbles near the edge, slips on blood, nearly falls into the sea. He turns, gun shaking in his hand, eyes wild now. Gone is the strategist. Gone is the smile.
What’s left is a dying man.
“Stop,” Demetri orders, gun leveled. “It’s over.”
Nikos laughs again. Weak. Broken. Bloody.
“You think killing me ends it,” he rasps. “You don’t understand anything.”
Ares advances slowly. “Who is he.”
Silence.
I step forward instead.
“You sold out children,” I say coldly. “You sold pregnant women. You sold your city. You’re going to tell us his name.”
Nikos’s gaze locks on me. Something like satisfaction flickers there.
“He’ll kill you all,” he whispers. “He already owns pieces of you.”
My patience snaps.
I fire.
The bullet tears through his abdomen. He collapses hard onto the concrete, screaming, gun skittering into the dark.
I’m on him instantly, kneeling, grabbing his collar as blood spills between my fingers. He’s fading fast. Breathing shallow. Eyes glassy.
“This is your last chance,” I growl. “Say his name.”
He coughs violently. Blood stains his teeth.
The harbor wind carries the sound of waves and distant city noise like Athens itself is holding its breath.
Nikos grips my wrist weakly.
“The Broker isn’t a ghost,” he gasps. “He’s a man.”
His chest heaves.
“His name is—”
A shot rings out.
Not ours.
Nikos’s head snaps sideways. His grip goes slack. Blood sprays across my face, hot and final.
I whirl, gun up, scanning rooftops, cranes, shadows. Nothing. Whoever fired is already gone.
Ares swears viciously. Demetri spins, searching angles.
Too late.
I look back down at Nikos. His eyes are open but empty. Dead before the truth can fully leave his mouth.
My hands shake with rage.
“He knew,” I say hoarsely. “He knew and they silenced him.”
Demetri crouches beside us, checking the wound grimly. “He was dying anyway.”
Ares stares out over the water, jaw clenched. “But he gave us enough.”
I look up. “What.”
Demetri meets my eyes. “A name doesn’t matter if there’s a face attached. The Broker is real. Flesh and blood. Which means he can bleed.”
I rise slowly, blood drying on my skin, the city lights flickering behind us like a crown of fire.
Somewhere out there, a man thinks he’s untouchable.
He’s wrong.
“This war just got personal,” I say.
And Athens, ancient and unforgiving, watches us walk back into the night carrying a dead man’s secret and a promise of vengeance.