Chapter Five – Echo of the Bullet
BRRAAK!!
Another sniper shot ripped through the air, narrowly missing Soren.
He leapt toward the stairwell, dodging what could have been a fatal hit. Before he could even steady himself—
BRRAAK!!
A third shot struck the edge of the stairs, sending shards flying around him.
Soren ducked behind the stairwell wall, his breath uneven.
He bit down on his lip as he touched his wounded shoulder.
Crouching, he picked up the bullet that had fallen beside him. He pocketed it, then began descending quickly through the dim, narrow stairway, his steps cautious, his mind blazing.
After several tense minutes, he emerged through a back exit and rushed toward his black car parked in a narrow alleyway.
Bang… Bang!
Two more shots tore through the silence—
One hit beside the car, the other scratched the side window.
But Soren didn't stop.
He flung the door open, jumped inside, started the engine in one seamless motion, and sped away from the sniper's line of fire.
The street was deserted.
The only sound was the low, steady growl of the engine.
He glanced into the rearview mirror…
No one was following.
He exhaled slowly.
> "This isn't the time for panic… it's time to understand."
He had to return.
Not just to treat his wound—
But to sort the pages of a war that had begun to spiral out of control.
---
Soren returned to his home.
The calm wrapped the place like always,
But it wasn't the same.
Now, the silence carried the weight of blood and pursuit.
He stepped into the bathroom, removed his shirt, and carefully cleaned the wound on his shoulder. The pain was sharp, but he didn't flinch.
When he finished bandaging it, he sat in the living room.
Dim lights. Curtains drawn.
His white cat, Raya, watched him in silence from atop the table.
Soren pulled the bullet from his pocket…
Held it under the light… turned it between his fingers.
> "This… Damn you. Bastards."
He muttered, his eyes lighting up with sudden clarity.
> "This is a Cheyenne Tactical M200 Intervention round… Extreme-range sniper rifle.
.408 CheyTac caliber… Not even elite police units use this. How the hell does a gang have access to it?"
He paused.
> "They knew I was coming… This wasn't just an ambush."
Then, in a tired, rasping voice, he whispered:
> "There's a traitor. High up."
---
Suddenly, a soft voice pierced the silence:
> "You think too much, Soren…"
He turned instantly.
She was there.
Serene—
Standing at the edge of the room, wearing a simple black dress, her hair gently tied up, her eyes hiding truths that words could never say.
> "How did you get in?" he asked in a low tone.
She smiled and sat across from him.
> "Changed the locks? …Doesn't matter."
Her eyes flicked to his shoulder wound. Her voice was soft.
> "How's the injury?"
He replied calmly:
> "It'll heal… I just need some rest."
She was silent for a moment, then locked eyes with him.
> "Did you find anything? After all this blood and running?"
He didn't answer.
He took out the bullet again, along with the notebook he found in Erik's apartment, and handed them to her.
Her eyes widened.
She gasped.
> "This… This can't be. This notebook… It's not supposed to be outside the agency's files…
How did you get your hands on this?"
Her face darkened. Her voice grew serious. Fear crept into her expression.
> "Stop this, Soren. This is bigger than you think. The level you've reached…
This isn't a game anymore."
He stood slowly, his eyes unblinking.
He looked at her, his voice quiet, sorrowful—yet razor-sharp:
"It's not a game… It's a past I won't leave unfinished."