CLACK!
The lone soldier, smart enough to duck instead of returning fire, scrambled into the corner of the hallway.
All he could do was watch his comrades fall one after another.
When the barrage of gunfire finally stopped, he found himself frozen in place.
"I-I-I..." he stuttered, gulping as he stared at the bodies of his entire unit.
His trembling eyes shifted toward the broken window.
Their comrade was still pinned against the window grille, the rope digging deeper into his neck.
Even in the darkness, the moon shone brightly enough for him to see the rope cutting into the man’s flesh, blood slowly seeping from the wound.
As if that weren’t horrifying enough...
The man’s body was riddled with bullet holes—most of them from his own comrades’ gunfire.
He should’ve traded places earlier when a comrade asked if he should go with the others; he thought. If he had agreed... he wouldn’t be here.
"I... I need to move," he muttered, trying to convince himself.
The soldiers stationed at this base never retreat in battle. They were trained not to tremble against the enemy.
Even if this base mainly served as a deployment point for reinforcements supporting the Di Carpio family’s main forces, they were still trained soldiers.
They were known as the hungry sharks, who were just as capable — just as terrifying.
And yet, his body refused to obey.
His knees shook like jelly. His fingers wouldn’t tighten around his rifle.
Hell...
His entire body trembled as though he were having a seizure.
After failing to stand for the third time, he stopped trying.
Slowly, he raised his head.
The hallway had fallen eerily silent. The sounds of battle still echoed outside.
But here...
There was nothing.
The silence was more deafening than the explosions.
His pupils constricted as he stared at the scene before him. Bodies littered the hallway and blood pooled across the floor.
At least two full squads had died here alone. Not counting the corpses scattered throughout the rest of the building.
And despite all that...
They still hadn’t caught the person responsible.
"Who..." he whispered, his shoulders slumping against the wall.
No.
It didn’t matter who that woman was anymore.
What mattered was...
"This place is finished," he breathed, only realizing he’d spoken his thoughts aloud. "We’re in deep trouble."
She had warned them.
Hell’s front door was going to be crowded tonight.
*****
Ashley slid farther down the rope before planting both feet against the building’s exterior wall.
She pushed off lightly, descended another few meters, and stopped again to test the rope’s stability.
Just then, a military truck rolled near the building.
"What’s that?"
Someone inside pointed upward, and everyone followed his finger.
There, a small figure was rappelling down the wall.
Gin, who had been standing in the back of the truck, turned immediately. Red glanced over from behind the wheel.
Both men narrowed their eyes.
Then disbelief flashed across their faces.
"I think we know who that is," Red blurted, steering the truck toward the building.
They had only been passing by, but even from this distance... that daring outfit was unmistakable. No one else would wear something that exposed that much skin into battle.
As they drew closer, they watched Ashley jump onto a windowsill, secure another rope, and continue rappelling down.
By the time she landed on the ground, the truck had already pulled up beside the building.
THUD!
"Hah—"
Ashley froze as the truck’s headlights suddenly illuminated her.
She squinted, shielding her eyes with one hand. With the other, she casually raised her rifle. If she was about to get shot, she might as well shoot back.
"Madam!"

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