[Flashback: One Week Ago]
Silver Sable paced through her penthouse office, a stark contrast of modern metal and stone in the heart of Symkaria. The air was thick with tension, one of the few moments where even her steely resolve seemed tested. Her memory returned to a name she hadn't spoken in years, a person she thought dead—a ghost she had buried along with her mistakes.
The Foreigner. Her former husband. The man she'd loved, betrayed, and ultimately come to fear.
Once, they had been inseparable, partners in ambition and in a brutal, unapologetic love. He was charming, devious, and had a killer's instinct that rivaled her own. In their early days, they were a perfect match—both leaders of their respective empires, both deadly in their own right. But that shared darkness proved to be their undoing, turning their love into a twisted game of betrayal and survival.
She thought he was gone, buried along with the bitterness that defined the last chapter of their relationship. Yet, whispers had started reaching her—a few stolen glimpses, a scattering of reports, and his name resurfacing in places it shouldn't. And then she received the letter—a bold, handwritten note that could have come from only one man.
"Surprised to see my name again? I have to say, you made a remarkable mistake in underestimating me, Silver. Let's see if you're still as clever as you used to be. Consider this a challenge—you know how I adore our games."
A familiar mix of fury and thrill rushed through her veins. She had spent years burying the memories of their volatile, intoxicating relationship, the nights filled with equal parts passion and conflict, the elaborate schemes that tested their loyalty and ruthlessness. And now, this message—an invitation, a threat, and a reminder of their deadly dance.
For the first time in years, Silver knew she was being hunted. But she'd be damned if she'd let herself be prey.
Silver remembered the day she met him—she was young, fearless, and just starting to rise in the underground world. The Foreigner was unlike anyone she had ever met. Charismatic, impossibly smart, and disarmingly honest about his lethal ambition, he swept her into a whirlwind of power and manipulation. Together, they were unstoppable.
But as their empire grew, so did his hunger—for power, for control, and eventually for her downfall.
In hindsight, she could see the signs, subtle at first. His eyes would linger a second too long when her guard was down. He would ask questions that seemed too probing, too interested in her syndicate's security protocols, her alliances, and her finances. Love had blinded her to his cunning; it wasn't until she discovered his affair—a calculated liaison with one of her trusted allies—that she fully grasped his betrayal. The Foreigner wasn't just trying to claim her heart. He was trying to seize her empire.
Silver felt the sting of his deception, yet she never let him see her pain. Instead, she sought revenge. Quietly, methodically, she tore through his networks, dismantling parts of his operation one piece at a time. She used her own team to stage "accidents," letting him believe his enemies were responsible. For months, he never knew it was her behind the attacks.
Then came his ultimate betrayal: an attempt on her life. Through a third party, he'd hired an assassin to eliminate her, believing she'd never trace it back to him. But Silver was no fool. When the attack failed, she followed the breadcrumbs straight to him.
Their confrontation was legendary. In a private room, with only the cold light of a single swinging lamp casting shadows between them, they both laid out their cards. She confronted him with the evidence of his attempt on her life; he met her accusations with a chilling smile, admitting it all.
"You're too valuable to destroy," he had said in his cold, calculating voice. "But only if you're dead, Silver. If you're alive, you're a threat. And I'm not one to leave threats unchecked. But for our old times' sake, let's go our separate ways and try to kill each other once both of us reach the top. I'll be waiting for you there."
That was the end. They divorced, but their war never ended. For years, they lived in a twisted game of cat-and-mouse, taking turns at the role of predator and prey. Assassination attempts became almost routine, a macabre way of maintaining the connection they once shared. Each failed attempt was almost a message, a reminder that while they no longer shared their lives, they could still end each other's.
Then one day, news came of his death. A calculated hit, she was told, by one of his enemies. She did her own research and saw his body with her own eyes and thoroughly checked, just to be sure. And that was the end of the Foreigner.
Or so she thought.
[Present Day]
With the message from the Foreigner, Silver knew he had returned with a purpose. He had survived, defied death, and had come back for her. Yet, as much as she hated to admit it, there was something exhilarating about facing him again. He was the only person who had ever matched her, an adversary who understood her every tactic and every thought. He had studied her, predicted her moves before, and she knew he would do so again.
But this time, she was prepared.
For the past week, she had heightened security around her syndicate, posted guards around her known allies, and went underground, knowing full well that he'd expect her to do just that. Each time she moved, she left clues—small breadcrumbs designed to lead him into traps. But he was careful, slippery, and far more strategic than before. He was evolving, changing his methods with each failed encounter.
It became a dance, a dark waltz of evasion and attack. Every attempt he made to draw her out was met with deadly countermeasures. She left false trails, riddled with explosives and ambushes, but he never took the bait, always finding ways to slip out just before she could land the fatal blow.
She had to admit: he was playing this game perfectly. And with each evasion, each close call, the tension mounted.
Finally, the showdown came. A week of near-misses and elaborate schemes led to this moment. She had orchestrated a final trap, one she was sure he wouldn't resist.
The location: a deserted warehouse on the edge of Symkaria. It was a familiar place, one she knew would hold significance for him. It was the site of one of their earliest joint missions, the place where they first saw each other's ruthless, unrestrained side—a mission that had bound them together in blood and betrayal.
Standing alone in the dark, she awaited his arrival, fingers steady on her weapon, her senses heightened. The silence stretched, each second feeling like an eternity, and then, she heard it—a single footstep echoing in the vast emptiness. She turned, heart racing as his figure emerged from the shadows.
There he was, unchanged yet altered, a ghost returned with a colder, sharper edge.
"Did you miss me, Silver?" His voice was smooth, deceptively warm, as if this was just another meeting between old friends.
"I should have killed you with my own hands. That fake body... You improvised. Well, time to die," she replied with an arrogant smirk.
He laughed, a low, mocking sound that filled the warehouse. "Oh, we both know you wouldn't have had it any other way. Where's the fun in a clean break? You loved the game as much as I did."
She raised her weapon, pointing it squarely at his heart. "Enough games, fucker. Why did you come back?"
"I think you know why." He tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with that all-too-familiar glint. "You may have wanted to kill me, Silver, but part of you misses me. You miss having someone who understands, who can keep up with you. But after your last slip up at New York, I'm starting to think, you are getting rusty, so, here I am..."
Silver's jaw clenched. There was a part of her that hated how right he was, a sliver of truth buried in the dark thrill of their rivalry. He was the only person who had ever challenged her, forced her to be her most ruthless, her most cunning.
But this was no longer about the past, no longer about rekindling some twisted sense of love. She raised her weapon, her finger steady on the trigger.
"I don't need you anymore, Foreigner. Whatever you came back for, it ends here."
His smile vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "If that's what you believe, then let's see if you have what it takes to finish it."
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The old warehouse felt like a graveyard for the memories they shared. Silver Sable and the Foreigner stood face to face surrounded by shadows and the weight of their past.
Silver's grip tightened on her gun, knuckles turning white. The Foreigner stood just a few steps away, looking calm and casual, almost as if this was a casual meeting rather than a battle to the death. But she knew him too well; that calm was just a mask for the predator underneath.
"I'll give you a chance," she said with a cold expression. "Leave Symkaria. Walk away, and I won't come after you."
He chuckled, a mocking smile on his lips. "You really think I'd let it go? After everything between us? I've waited a long time for this reunion."
Before she could reply, he rushed at her with blinding speed. Silver fired, the shot echoing like thunder, but he dodged effortlessly. He was on her in an instant, his fist slamming against her forearm as she blocked. Pain shot up her arm, but she held her ground.
He followed up with a swift kick aimed at her head. She ducked just in time, feeling the rush of air as his foot passed over her. She took the chance to strike back, landing a solid kick to his knee. He winced but quickly steadied himself, smirking at her.
"Slower than I remember," he taunted. "Or maybe I've just gotten better."
Silver ignored his words, gritting her teeth. She lunged forward, feinting a left jab before delivering a hard right hook to his ribs.
"Fuck!" He stumbled back, grunting in pain, but instead of anger, she saw a flash of admiration in his eyes. "You've still got that fire," he said, wiping a trickle of blood from his lip. "But it won't be enough."
Suddenly, his eyes locked onto hers. A strange calm washed over her, and she realized too late that his hypnotic power had taken hold. She froze for a moment—just enough time for him to drive his fist into her gut. "Kuggg!" Silver doubled over, gasping for air. His knee smashed into her face, sending blood spraying from her nose. Dazed, she barely managed to stay on her feet.
He grabbed her collar, pulling her close, their faces inches apart.
"Does this feel familiar?" he asked softly, almost like they were sharing an old dance rather than a brutal fight. He punched her hard across the face, the sound of the blow echoing through the empty space. "Huh? C'mon. Is this all you got?"
The world spun around her, but Silver forced herself to stand. She couldn't let him win. Not now. "MOTHERFUCKER!!" With a roar, she broke free from his grip, smashing her elbow into his jaw. He stumbled back, surprised by her sudden burst of strength.
"You talk too much for an assassin," she spat a mouthful of blood after checking her jaws.
She didn't give him time to respond, launching a series of punches and kicks. Each hit landed with force, and though he blocked most, he couldn't keep up with her speed. She finished with a headbutt on his nose. Blood frizzled out of his nose and he was forced to close his eyes for a moment. Taking advantage, she twisted his arm behind his back and slammed him face-first into the cold concrete floor.
The Foreigner groaned, stunned. Silver quickly pulled a knife from her belt and aimed it at his shoulder, but he rolled away just in time. The blade clanged against the ground instead.
He jumped to his feet, his expression darkening. "That wasn't very nice, ex-wife," he admitted, wiping blood from a cut above his eyebrow. "But then again, where's the fun in doing nice things?"
Before she could react, he put her in a daze again and tossed a flashbang at her feet. The explosion of light and sound disoriented her, blinding her and leaving her ears ringing. She stumbled back, struggling to regain her senses. He moved in fast, landing a hard punch to her side. She felt a rib crack and nearly screamed from the pain but bit her lip to stay quiet.
"You're slipping," he mocked, launching another attack.
This time, she managed to twist away, feeling his knife graze her collarbone. She winced but kept moving, grabbing his wrist and disarming him with a quick twist. The knife clattered to the floor as she spun him around, locking her arm around his neck in a chokehold.
"Is that so? Thanks for letting me know," she growled in his ear.
He clawed at her arm desperately, raking his nails across her face. The pain made her loosen her grip just enough for him to break free. He swung a fist at her face, and she went down hard, her body crashing onto the concrete.
Silver struggled to get up, blood dripping from her nose and mouth. Every part of her body ached, but she forced herself to keep fighting. She pulled a small gun from her boot, aiming it at him even though her hands shook. He froze, a flicker of fear crossing his face.
"You wouldn't really shoot me, would you?" he asked, almost disbelieving. "After everything?"
Silver gave a bloodied smile. "Fuck you!"
Before she could fire, he put her in a two-second daze then rolled aside and threw a piece of debris at her. It struck her wrist, making her drop the gun. He tackled her, and they grappled on the floor, trading punches as blood smeared the ground beneath them.
He managed to pin her, his hands squeezing her throat. "You're weaker than I thought," he snarled. "So, weak and helpless. What happened to you, Silver? Were you always this weak?"
Dark spots clouded her vision as she struggled for air. Her hand fumbled for the knife strapped to her thigh. With the last of her strength, she pulled it free and stabbed it into his stomach, twisting it hard.
"Crap! Shit!" The Foreigner gasped, his grip on her throat loosening. Silver twisted the blade deeper, forcing a cry from him. She shoved him off, rolling away. She quickly grabbed the gun from the floor and staggered to her feet.
They both stood there, panting, bloodied, and exhausted. He clutched his side, blood oozing through his fingers, his face pale.
"You always knew how to surprise me," he whispered, a sad smile forming.
Silver raised her gun again, aiming it at his head. "Goodbye."
He vanished from sight using his hypnosis, and a flashbang exploded again. This time, he appeared behind her, knocking the gun away and stabbing her in the side. She headbutted him hard and spun around with a right hook, but he blocked it effortlessly and kicked her hard in the stomach.
Silver dropped her knife and stumbled back, gasping. He kicked the knife away, stepping closer, launching another series of punches. Each blow sent waves of pain through her, but she kept her focus, looking for a way out.
She knew fighting his hypnosis was useless. He had become too skilled, his powers too strong. Instead, she began slowly moving toward the warehouse exit, planning to make a break for her invisible jet parked just outside.
He landed a solid punch to her jaw, making her head snap back. Her knees buckled, but she stayed upright. He pressed his advantage, delivering another blow to her ribs, and she felt something inside crack. Agony flared through her, but she kept her eyes on him, determined not to fall.
In a flash, she spotted her knife lying nearby. She lunged for it, slicing across his arm.
"Damn you!" He cried out, stumbling back as blood flowed from the wound. The brief distraction was enough. She bolted for the exit, running outside to her jet. She somehow got in and flew away.
Just as she thought she had escaped, gunfire rained down on her from the Foreigner's men. The jet's alarms blared as it took heavy damage, but Silver fought back, dodging their attacks. She outmaneuvered them, her jet soaring higher until she broke free and vanished into the night sky.
--[Powerstones and reviews.]---
Support Link: www.pat reon.com/XcaliburXc [Remove the space]
⭐Read 17 advance Chapters⭐ [No double billing.]
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