Chapter 4 — The Fall
908 Words
“You want me to jump out of a building.”
Rain hammered against the windows behind us while Elena stared at the rope launcher in my hand like it had personally betrayed her.
“Controlled descent,” I corrected.
“That sounds like something insane people say before dying.”
Fair enough.
I attached the launcher to the concrete support beside the window and tested the tension once.
Stable.
Behind us, the apartment remained too quiet.
That bothered me.
Teams like that usually didn’t work alone.
Elena noticed my expression immediately.
“What now?”
“We’re running out of time.”
That answer did not help her emotionally.
She moved closer to the window slowly and looked down.
Then immediately stepped back.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
I looked toward her.
“Elena.”
“I am not jumping off a building with a man I met thirty minutes ago who killed three people in my kitchen.”
When she said it like that—
honestly—it did sound bad.
Then suddenly my phone vibrated again.
Rex.
I answered immediately.
“Talk.”
“You need to disappear now.”
Something in his voice sharpened my attention instantly.
“Why?”
“Because whoever wants the girl dead just put a ten-million euro contract on your head too.”
Silence.
Elena looked at me carefully.
“What happened?”
I ignored the question.
“Who issued it?” I asked Rex.
“That’s the problem,” he replied quietly.
Silence.
Then:
“Nobody knows.”
That cold feeling settled in my chest immediately.
Because in our world, anonymous contracts at that level meant power.
Real power.
Not gangs. Not random criminals.
People above that.
People connected to governments, intelligence networks, billion-dollar operations.
People capable of erasing entire investigations quietly.
Rex continued:
“You need to move before every assassin in Europe starts chasing both of you.”
Too late probably.
I ended the call.
Elena crossed her arms tightly now.
“You keep having conversations that somehow make everything worse.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s not comforting.”
I walked toward her quickly.
“We leave now or we die here.”
That finally shut down the argument.
Good.
Fear had fully settled into her expression now, but underneath it—
she was still thinking.
Still processing.
Strong mentally.
I wrapped an arm around her waist before she could react.
Her eyes widened instantly.
“Wait wait wait—”
Then we jumped.
The rain hit hard immediately.
Wind tore past us while Elena grabbed onto my coat hard enough to probably damage it permanently.
Her scream echoed across the street below.
Reasonable reaction honestly.
The rope system slowed our descent sharply near the third floor before we dropped onto a lower balcony hard enough to shake metal furniture sideways.
Elena stumbled against me breathing hard.
“Oh my God.”
“We’re fine.”
“We are absolutely not fine.”
Fair.
I released the rope quickly and scanned the streets below.
Empty for now.
But not for long.
Police sirens echoed faintly somewhere deeper in the city already.
Someone definitely heard the gunfire.
Elena leaned against the balcony railing trying to recover mentally.
Rain soaked through her hair and sweater completely now.
“You know,” she breathed out, “normal people use staircases.”
“Normal people usually survive less.”
She stared at me.
“…That sounded practiced.”
Because it was.
I moved toward the balcony exit door and quietly checked the apartment inside.
Empty.
Good.
“Elena.”
“What now?”
“We move.”
“Can I emotionally recover first?”
“No.”
“That’s really becoming your thing.”
Despite everything happening—
her sarcasm still existed.
Honestly?
That was either impressive resilience or delayed psychological collapse.
Maybe both.
We moved quickly through the apartment hallway and down emergency stairs toward the underground parking garage.
My shoulder burned slightly now where the bullet grazed earlier.
Nothing serious.
Still annoying.
Elena noticed anyway.
“You’re bleeding more.”
“I noticed.”
“You should let me look at it.”
I glanced toward her while moving.
“You’re a journalist.”
“And you’re leaking blood through your coat.”
Fair point.
We reached the underground garage level quietly.
Dark concrete. Low lights. Almost empty.
Rain echoed faintly outside through distant entrances.
I slowed slightly.
Something felt wrong again.
Too still.
Then Elena whispered:
“…Why did they know your name?”
I kept walking.
“Because I’ve done this a long time.”
“That’s not a real answer.”
No. It wasn’t.
But explaining who I really was inside a parking garage while assassins hunted us across Prague felt inefficient.
Then suddenly—
headlights flashed on across the garage.
Three black SUVs.
Engines already running.
Elena froze instantly.
So did I.
The vehicle doors opened slowly.
Men stepped out calmly wearing dark suits instead of tactical gear this time.
More dangerous.
Professionals who didn’t need armor.
One man moved slightly forward between them.
Older. Gray hair. Gloves. Calm posture.
Not field muscle.
Leadership.
He looked directly at me.
Then at Elena.
And softly said something that made my blood run cold immediately.
“Damian Hayashi.”
Elena slowly looked toward me.
Confused.
Then the man continued calmly:
“Your father asked us to bring you home.”.
- Writer
