Chapter 15 - The Predator’s Return

Before Mark’s finger could squeeze the trigger, a heavy shadow detached itself from the darkness of the balcony doorway behind him.
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A silenced gunshot clipped the edge of Mark's ear, spraying hot blood across the nursery wallpaper. Mark shrieked, spinning around wildly.
Elias stepped out of the shadows like an apparition of death. His coat was gone, his sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, corded forearms scarred from a decade of street warfare. His face was entirely devoid of human emotion—a mask of cold, calculated execution.
"You're standing in the wrong house, Mark," Elias said softly, his voice cutting through the room like a razor.
One of Mark’s mercenaries raised his rifle to fire, but Lev materialized from the hallway behind them, driving the butt of a tactical shotgun into the mercenary’s temple with bone-shattering force. The man crumpled to the floor like a sack of wet cement.
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Mark panicked, swinging his pistol toward Elias.
Elias didn't hesitate. He closed the distance in two explosive strides, grabbed Mark’s wrist, and twisted it upward with a sickening pop of tearing cartilage. Mark screamed in agony as the pistol dropped from his limp fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor.