Chasing shadows.

Alex’s car sped through the cold evening toward Wilson Park, the engine’s hum steady and determined. As the car slowed near the park, Alex scanned the area through his rear camera, taking in the dimly lit surroundings. The park was almost deserted, with only a few stragglers on their way out. His eyes locked on a figure sitting on a bench under the soft glow of a security light, matching the picture he held on his phone. His grip tightened on the gun inside his coat before stepping out of the car.

Meanwhile, the Alpha team had already arrived. Positioned discreetly among the trees and nearby buildings, they kept their eyes trained on Alex as he moved toward the hooded figure on the bench. The team captain whispered into his mic, “Seven o’clock,” directing the sniper to target the man Alex was approaching.

The assassin’s heart raced as he saw Alex, exuding a dark, deadly aura, stride purposefully toward him. He had a bad feeling about this—this wasn’t a negotiation; it was a hit. He