Chapter 11: Thankyou!!!
Three years ago...Somewhere within the boundaries of Mexico...
"Ghost, target spotted. South wing. Moving in."
The voice crackled softly in his earpiece. Perched on the edge of a crumbling rooftop under the cloak of night, Miles—known in the underground world only as Ghost—tightened his grip on the grappling line.
Without a word, he leapt.
The line went taut, swinging him like a pendulum across the open courtyard. Wind howled past his ears, then—crash—he burst silently through a cracked third-floor window. The glass barely shivered.
He landed with feline precision, boots soft on old tile, knife already drawn.
One breath. One heartbeat.
A guard rounded the corner—too late. The blade found his throat, and Miles lowered the body soundlessly.
He moved like vapor—silent, cold, and unrelenting. One by one, the guards disappeared into the darkness, their last sounds muffled by steel and gloved hands. No alarms. No mess. Just the ghost in their midst.
"Target just entered the main room. East side."
Miles adjusted the harness on his chest, then approached the ornate door at the end of the hallway. A soft knock.