The Heavenly Demon of Terror

With the machine gunner neutralized, the echo of gunfire slowly faded into the cold, unsettling silence of the mansion.

I rolled my shoulders, cracking my neck as I holstered my Desert Eagles.

This fight was over. But the real hunt was just beginning.

I scanned the area, my Eagle Eyes activated, searching for anything out of place.

There had to be a hidden passage somewhere. A mansion this large, this well-guarded, wouldn't have been chosen for human trafficking without secret routes for transport.

Abigail stood nearby, still shaken from the gunfight but keeping her composure.

"What now?" she asked, her voice more controlled than before.

I didn't answer immediately, my eyes tracing along the old brick walls, the tattered carpets, the large, ornate bookshelf in the far end of the hall.

There.

A section of the floor had faint scratch marks**, like it had been moved repeatedly.

I smirked. Found it.