Outside, the gunfire had yet to die down, a clear sign that the fight was far from over and that enemies still swarmed beyond the warehouse walls.

Then the silence was shattered.

The third man panicked and fired wildly, bullets tearing through the darkness. Almost immediately, more figures rushed through the entrance. Dave and Luke flattened themselves closer to the walls, bodies pressed tight to the concrete as stray rounds screamed past, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Even as more people rushed inside, neither Luke nor Dave showed the slightest hint of panic. Instead, they remained calm, silently counting their remaining bullets and calculating their next moves. Every round mattered. A single wasted shot could put them at a fatal disadvantage.

Footsteps echoed outside the warehouse, more enemies gathering, likely preparing to force their way in. If that happened, Luke and Dave would have no choice but to gamble and act decisively.

They exchanged a brief glance.

First, they would deal with the ones already inside. Then, only then, would they figure out how to handle whoever was waiting beyond the entrance.

Luke drew a deep breath. As soon as the gunfire inside the warehouse paused, he peered out, scanning for the enemies’ positions. Spotting one in his line of fire, he didn’t hesitate; he fired, taking the target down instantly. But the shot gave him away. Bullets now streaked toward his position, reckless and indiscriminate.

Reacting immediately, Luke dove behind another cover, silently shifting to a safer spot. He used the echoes and rustling of the warehouse to gauge where the other enemies were hiding.

Meanwhile, Dave had already spotted another enemy nearby. He crept closer, careful to line up the shot. Two precise bullets later, the enemy dropped. Just like Luke, Dave knew his position was now compromised. The remaining attackers, seemingly driven more by fear than strategy, had forgotten their objective of capturing them. They fired at Luke and Dave as if their sole purpose was now to kill.

Luckily, Dave moved swiftly, slipping to another cover the moment the enemy fell. Both men were now locked in a deadly game of cat and mouse, relying on stealth, timing, and precise fire to stay alive.

"Fuck it! Why is it so hard to kill these two, let alone kidnap them? They’re as slippery as loaches..." someone muttered through gritted teeth.

His eyes darted around wildly, terror crawling up his spine as he feared he’d be sniped like the others who had already dropped dead. He didn’t dare fire recklessly anymore; one wrong shot could give away his position. To him, Luke and Dave felt like devils dragged straight out of hell, here only to take their lives.

Cold sweat poured from his pores, soaking his clothes, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Even if he tried to aim now, he was certain he’d miss, ten shots out of ten.

"Shut up and duck if you want to keep living. We just need to hold out until the boss gets here..." another man hissed.

Dave heard it clearly. He had already wormed his way closer, close enough to hear the words that were said, the words sent his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t know whether the boss they mentioned was the man still outside fighting his people, or worse, incoming reinforcements.

If it was the latter, they were as good as dead. Their ammunition was running low, and he had no idea how many of his own people were still standing, or how many had even come to back him and Luke up.

That thought hardened his resolve.

They couldn’t afford to drag this out.

Dave leaned out, slammed his boot into the barrel the man was hiding behind, and sent it rolling. The man lurched forward, losing his balance. Dave didn’t hesitate; he raised his gun and fired.

The shot instantly killed the enemy.

But in doing so, Dave exposed himself.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Smoke curled from the gun’s barrel after three rapid shots, and Dave’s eyes widened in disbelief.

"You really should watch your back." Luke’s voice came out of nowhere.

An instant earlier, the enemy who had spotted Dave had raised his weapon, but Luke was faster. He pulled the trigger first, killing the man before he could fire. The body hit the ground with a dull thud.

If Luke had been even a second slower, Dave would’ve been the one lying there now.

"Fuck —! That scared me half to death..." Dave muttered, patting his chest as he exhaled shakily. "I knew you’d have my back."

He shot Luke a crooked grin, deliberately softening his tone, hoping it would stop Luke from chewing him out.

Truth be told, Dave had gambled on it, on Luke covering him and taking down anyone who tried to put a bullet in his head. And while the gamble paid off, pretending he hadn’t been terrified would be a lie.

For a split second, his knees had nearly given out. The thought that he might never see Hera again had flashed through his mind, cold and crushing.

"There won’t be a next time," Luke snorted. "I’m not carrying your cold corpse back and getting blamed for your death."

Without waiting for a response, he slipped behind the entrance door and peeked outside, eyes scanning the chaos as the sounds of the skirmish still echoed beyond the warehouse.

"...I’m out," Luke muttered, checking his magazine. He squeezed the trigger, but nothing.

His gaze flicked to the bodies sprawled nearby. He crouched without hesitation and quickly searched them, hands moving with practiced efficiency. A moment later, he found a full magazine and tossed it to Dave.

Dave caught it, ejected his empty mag, and slammed the new one in.

Luke wasn’t done. He stripped a few knives from another body and tucked them away, then grabbed a pair of pistols along with several spare magazines. With a decisive motion, he abandoned his heavy assault rifle.

"Too bulky," he muttered, holstering the pistols. Lighter weapons meant more speed, faster reactions when things went south.

Dave noticed the switch and immediately came to the same conclusion. A pistol would be far better for close-quarters combat.

Unfortunately for him, Luke had already claimed them.

Dave moved to the opposite side of the door and peered out through the narrow gap. He glanced at Luke across from him, his face tightening as he gave a quick signal, positions, at the same time. They would move together and cover each other.

Outside, the scene was brutal.

The captain of Dave’s team was locked in hand-to-hand combat with a bald man covered in tattoos. Their guns lay several feet away, forgotten. Steel flashed as blades danced in their hands, each strike aimed to kill.

The captain already bore several streaks of blood across his body, his breathing heavy but controlled. Yet the enemy’s boss wasn’t faring any better; his movements were slowing, his stance uneven, blood dripping from more than one cut.

It was a deadlock, and one mistake would decide who walked away alive.

"That bald bastard looks strong and smug," Dave muttered in a half-whisper. "Should we step in, or watch how this plays out?"

They were far enough apart that he couldn’t risk speaking any louder. His eyes never left the fight. Worry flickered across his face, not for himself, but for his captain.

Yet Dave didn’t dare act rashly. Intervening at the wrong moment could disrupt the captain’s rhythm, break his focus, and give the enemy an opening. In a fight like this, even a split second of distraction could mean death.

That was why Dave hesitated, and why he wanted Luke’s judgment before making a move.

"Watch and see," Luke replied quietly.

He shared Dave’s thoughts and had no intention of acting blindly. Charging in without a full read of the situation was reckless. His eyes swept the surroundings, scanning the bushes and the shadows beyond the clearing, alert for any hidden enemies lying in wait.

If they moved now while unseen threats remained, they risked being flanked, caught off guard with no room to retreat. In that scenario, evasion would be nearly impossible.

It was better to wait. To confirm the field was clear.

And if the fight tipped against Dave’s subordinate, only then would Luke step in.

Hearing Luke’s reply, Dave pressed his lips into a thin line and said nothing more. He could only watch — silent, rigid — as the fight outside unfolded.

His stomach twisted when the bald man suddenly surged forward, locking the captain’s head beneath his arm and against his waist with sheer brute force. Dave winced, a phantom ache flaring through his own neck as the captain drove desperate punches into the man’s side, trying to force him to release the hold.

It didn’t work.

Gritting through the blows, the bald man straightened, lifted the captain clear off the ground, and slammed him down with crushing force.

Thud.

The sound of flesh colliding with earth echoed through the clearing, followed by the captain’s hoarse, pain-filled groan.