"You sure about this?" Ghost whispered over comms.
Hayamei checked the scope. "Just tell me when you see him."
She couldn't afford mistakes. The man who'd ruined her life, hunted her down, tried to use her daughter as leverage—he was in that building.
And this time, he didn't know she was coming.
⸻
The meeting began at 4:30 sharp.
Five men entered the room. One of them—tall, smug, wearing his power like cologne—was her father.
Hayamei's breath caught.
She'd fantasized about this moment for years. How she'd spit in his face. Watch him crumble.
But there was no time for revenge speeches.
This wasn't about closure.
It was about ending a threat.
Ghost's voice crackled through the earpiece.
"He's on the left side. Holding a briefcase."
"I see him."
"You get one shot."
Hayamei lined up the scope. The crosshairs hovered over his chest.
Her father laughed, gesturing wildly as he passed something across the table.
She saw the outline of a weapon on his hip.
"I got it," she whispered.
"Wait—" Ghost's voice spiked. "There's another—someone just entered—"
Too late.
The door to the room burst open.
Gunfire.
Hayamei fired instinctively, hitting someone in the shoulder—but not her father.
Chaos exploded in the suite.
She watched as her father ducked, ran to the side exit, and disappeared from view.
"Ghost—where is he?" she snapped.
"I'm going after him—stay where you are!"
Hayamei ignored him.
She bolted from the rooftop, rifle slung across her back, heart hammering like war drums. By the time she hit the stairwell of the building next door, her lungs were burning—but she didn't stop.
She'd lost him once.
Not again.
⸻
Inside the high-rise, alarms were blaring. Men screamed into radios. Blood smeared the glass walls.
Hayamei slipped through it like smoke, dodging surveillance blind spots Ghost had mapped for her.
She reached the hallway just in time to see her father limping toward a private elevator, clutching his side.
"You look like hell," she said, stepping into view.
He froze.
Then turned.
"My daughter," he sneered. "Still clinging to life like it means something."
She raised her gun. "It means more than yours."
He laughed, blood in his teeth.
"You don't have the stomach for it. You never did."
She didn't respond.
She just pulled the trigger.
⸻
The bullet hit him square in the thigh. He collapsed with a howl, reaching for his gun—but she was already on him.
She kicked the weapon out of his hand, pressing her boot into his chest.
"Say her name," she hissed.
"What—"
"My daughter. Say her name."
He spat blood. "You think I care about that bastard child?"
Hayamei's hand trembled—but she didn't pull the trigger again.
Not yet.
Ghost appeared at the end of the hallway, bleeding from his arm.
"Hayamei—"
She looked down at her father one last time.
"You don't get to break me again."
Then she stepped back.
Let Ghost walk forward.
"You kill him," she said, "and we disappear for good."
Her father started to speak—but Ghost raised his gun and shot him once. In the heart.
⸻
They left the building in the back of a laundry van.
By sunrise, they were across state lines.
Jericho met them at an old church in the woods. Na'Nami ran straight into Hayamei's arms, wrapping herself tight around her waist.
"You done with the bad guys now?" she asked, muffled against her shirt.
Hayamei looked down at her, then up at Ghost.
"For now."
⸻
That night, the three of them sat around a dying firepit.
Hayamei stared at the stars through the trees, wondering how many times she'd cheated death.
"How long you think we got before someone else comes?" Ghost asked.
Hayamei shrugged. "Maybe a month. Maybe a year."
He leaned closer. "We could keep moving. Change our names again. Head west."
She looked at him. Then at her daughter.
"No more hiding."
His brow raised. "You sure?"
She nodded. "It's time to live like we're already free."
Ghost reached for her hand.
And for once, she let him take it.
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