An Understated Dominance (Dustin Rhys)

The sounds of battle echoed under the streetlights. Shouts of pain mixed with the clash of weapons could be heard. Five figures were locked in a deadly struggle, and blood splattered across the ground.

The fight raged for nearly half an hour until the noise gradually subsided. The five figures lay motionless in pools of blood.

Under the dim glow of the streetlights, three of the black-clad assassins were confirmed dead. One’s neck was snapped, another’s chest pierced, and the last had bled out from a fatal wound.

Jovian and Boston were in no better condition.

Boston was soaked in blood. His body was riddled with deep cuts, some so severe they exposed the bone beneath.

Jovian wasn’t much better. His abdomen and shoulder were slashed. His right arm had been severed, and he was left in a pitiful state.

Boston coughed. After taking down the last assassin, he collapsed to the ground. He gasped for air as blood poured from his mouth.

His chest and abdomen were torn open, and his organs spilled out. He was pale, and his breathing was shallow and erratic. His life was slipping away.

“Boston… Boston!” Jovian cried out. He staggered to his fallen comrade’s side while clutching his own wounds.

He hurriedly pulled out a tablet and tried to feed it to Boston. He then tore strips of cloth from his shirt to try and stop the bleeding. But Boston’s injuries were too severe. The tablet had no effect, and the makeshift bandages did little to stop blood flow.

I’ll get you to the hospital,” Jovian shouted frantically as he tried to lift Boston. But

hand gripped Jovian’s arm and said weakly, “I’m done for… You

to make it. We’ve been through hell together-Red Tombsea, remember? You’re

his teeth as he struggled to lift Boston onto his back. Blood stained the ground as he limped

lolled to the side. His body turned limp, and he

Jovian shouted,

simply fallen asleep. Jovian stopped in his tracks, and his heart was heavy with

he had been dragged into this hellish situation and paid with

help. If only he hadn’t crossed paths with those

as Jovian was consumed by despair, the roar of engines cut through the night. Several black SUVs screeched to a

dozen masked assassins in black poured

Barley, glanced at the bodies of his fallen comrades and frowned. “You took out three of my men. Impressive. But it

send you?”

man doesn’t need answers,” Ronan replied coldly. He gestured to his men. “Take

his command, the assassins

at them with what little strength he had left. His remaining