Chapter 29 Playing the Odds

I sat at the foremost part of the van, the weight of the situation pressing down on me like a shroud. Lion King lounged at the corner, his predatory eyes boring into me, while Jonas kept his gun trained on my head. The constant presence of that weapon was a reminder that my life hung by a thread. I tried to feel out the nullification Jonas was exerting on me, searching for any break in its hold. Nothing. My intangibility was gone, and with it, my most reliable lifeline.

“Kill him,” Lion King said, his voice calm and deliberate, as if he were ordering a coffee instead of my execution. “I don’t think I can trust this kid after all.”

Fuck his sixth sense.

Bang!

The gunshot cracked the air. My body jerked on instinct, narrowly avoiding a bullet meant for my skull. It grazed my left shoulder instead, a line of fire burning through my skin. Pain lanced up my arm, sharp and unrelenting.

Chaos erupted in the cramped space.

I threw myself into a zigzagging crouch, ducking and weaving with all the precision I could muster. Jonas’s gun barked, each shot deafening in the confined van. Bullets ricocheted off the armored walls, narrowly missing me with each erratic ping.

Lion King roared, his body shifting as fur sprouted along his arms and his muscles bulged unnaturally. He lunged at me, swatting aside the ricocheting bullets like they were gnats. His fist came down like a wrecking ball, the air itself vibrating with the force of his blow.

I barely managed to deflect it, bracing with my left arm. Pain flared as my already injured shoulder screamed in protest. I twisted around him, adrenaline sharpening my movements. My hand found the push dagger in my utility belt. With a sharp kick against the van’s bench for leverage, I slid underneath his bulk.

Jonas’s gun pivoted, and a bullet sank into my already useless left arm. The pain was white-hot, but I couldn’t stop now. My dagger found its mark, slicing into Jonas’s throat with brutal efficiency. Blood sprayed, coating the walls and my face. Jonas gurgled, his grip on the gun slackening as his life ebbed away.

Lion King’s roar of fury was deafening. I didn’t give him time to react.

My powers surged back as Jonas’s nullification died with him. With a surge of relief, I turned fully intangible, letting my body phase through the cramped confines of the van. Lion King’s claws swiped at empty air as I rolled out of his reach, flipping him the middle finger as I phased through the driver’s seat.

The two drivers barely had time to register my presence before my cards found their mark. A sharp flick of my wrist sent them spinning forward, slicing into their foreheads with a precision born of practice. Blood spattered everywhere as they slumped forward, lifeless.

Gripping the steering wheel, I veered the armored van directly into the back of the truck carrying the cargo. The sound of metal crunching against metal filled the air as the van collided with a deafening impact.

Just before the crash could register fully, I phased through the floor of the van, dropping beneath it to hide in the shadows. My heart thundered in my chest as I pressed myself against the underside of the vehicle, blood dripping from my wounds and pooling beneath me.

I had seconds... of that.

The itchy sensation in my left arm was the first thing I noticed. I flexed my fingers experimentally, and to my surprise, the pain was already fading. It was like my body was patching itself up, piece by piece. I didn’t know I had a healing factor... or maybe it wasn’t a healing factor at all. Adrenaline and my powers had always worked weirdly together, almost like they were feeding off the tension around me.

Capes improving under stress wasn’t unheard of. Some theorized we were wired for conflict, our abilities sharpening in the heat of battle. Whatever it was, I wasn’t about to waste the opportunity.

I climbed to my feet, hyperaware of how exposed I felt without my mask. My breath fogged in the cold air as I scanned the area. Behind me, the two other armored vans screeched to a halt, their occupants spilling out.

The Triplets moved in eerie synchronization, their rifles raised as they took up defensive positions near the truck. Blackout followed suit, her wiry frame practically melding into the shadows around her. The holographic shadow obscuring her face flickered faintly.

Mathilda stayed in her vehicle, but three of her gun-wielding lackeys weren’t so cautious. They poured out of the second van, weapons at the ready, forming a protective line around Mathilda’s vehicle.

And then there was Lion King.

The back of the armored van I’d just crashed into groaned and buckled as he emerged. His transformation was in full swing now—his already massive frame had grown even larger, his lion-like features twisted in a mask of fury. Blood soaked his gaudy black-and-gold armor, the stench of iron hanging thick in the air.

He tossed something onto the ground in front of him.

I froze when I saw what it was: the mangled bodies of Vortex and Jonas. Their lifeless forms lay crumpled in a heap, blood pooling around them.

Lion King’s golden eyes locked onto mine, glowing with unbridled rage. His voice was low and guttural, the words rolling out like thunder. “I am going to kill you.”

The menace in his tone was palpable, sending a chill down my spine. My mind raced. I couldn’t fight him head-on, not like this. I needed a plan... and fast.

Lion King took a menacing step forward, his claws flexing. The Triplets and Blackout turned their rifles toward him, tension crackling in the air like static electricity.

This was about to go downhill fast.

Lion King’s roar echoed over the chaos, cutting through the sharp cracks of gunfire. “This man killed Jonas! And Vortex!”

For a moment, I thought he was just posturing, but there was something more calculated in his tone. He wasn’t just a brute, he was trying to turn the others against me. And it was working.

The muzzles of the guns shifted toward me, their barrels now my new enemies. I held my ground, eyes darting between the shooters. They weren’t moving on instinct; they were listening to someone.

Mathilda.

She didn’t need earpieces or comms to issue orders. Her acoustokinesis worked in perfect silence, her whispers threading through their minds like invisible strings. Puppeteering them.

The gun-toting goons fired first, their bullets ripping through the air in a relentless volley. I didn’t flinch. There was no point.

The bullets passed harmlessly through me, ricocheting off the armored van and slamming into Lion King. His massive frame absorbed the hits like nothing, the rounds flattening against his armored hide.

Lion King snarled, his mane bristling as he turned his fury toward the shooters. “You fools! He most likely has Intangibility-6 or higher!!”

The goons froze, their weapons lowering slightly as they looked between me and Lion King, confusion flickering across their faces.

“Enough!” Mathilda’s voice cut through the chaos, even though she was supposed to be inside the armored van. Her tone reverberated in my skull, commanding and absolute.

The shooters hesitated but kept their weapons trained on me. The Triplets and Blackout hadn’t moved, their rifles still lowered, but their eyes were locked onto the scene with hawk-like precision.

I raised my hands slowly, palms out. “Lion King’s right,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “I’m intangible. Shooting at me won’t solve anything. But let’s not forget something, he’s the one who just walked out of that van with Jonas and Vortex dead at his feet.”

Lion King growled, taking a step forward. “You dare—”

“I dare,” I interrupted, letting my voice rise just enough to cut him off. “Because I know the truth, and so does Mathilda.”

All eyes shifted slightly, glancing toward Mathilda’s vehicle.

Mathilda stepped out of her vehicle, exuding the same air of smug superiority as always. Her blue eyes swept over the tense scene before settling on me, brimming with cold malice.

“Triplets,” she commanded with a calm that cut through the chaos like a blade. “Kill this man. Work with Lion King and ensure he stays dead. I will offer you double what Royal was paying. Upon Eclipse's death, I will give you a bonus of 100,000 marks on top of that... No, make it 1.8 million marks. Yes, that's a price I am willing to part with.”

The Triplets exchanged a glance, their body language tense, but they nodded in unison, their hands already tightening on their rifles.

Mathilda turned toward Blackout, her tone dismissive as she issued the next order. “Blackout, open the cargo. The first half of the password is…”

“Delta-7-1-4,” I interrupted, my voice sharp and deliberate. “Let me guess, you will also be offering her double what Royal was paying her.”

The tension snapped taut. Everyone froze, their eyes darting between Mathilda and me.

Mathilda’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment before she regained her composure. “How cute,” she said with a mockingly sweet tone. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

I ignored her jab and raised my voice. “How about I make you a bet, Mathilda? You’ll regret opening that cargo.”

Her laugh was short and sharp, cutting through the silence. “You’re awfully loyal to Royal. But he must be losing his touch if you’re the best he could send. Fine.” She gestured dismissively. “I’ll humor you. Triplets, Lion King, everyone... stand down for now. Don’t kill Eclipse just yet.”

Loyal? Nor really... I'm not Royal's thug... I have standards.

The collective tension in the air shifted, a dangerous cocktail of suspicion and curiosity.

Mathilda stepped toward the truck, gesturing for Blackout to follow. The cloaked woman moved cautiously, her rifle at the ready, but her eyes flickered with intrigue. She didn’t trust Mathilda... none of them did.

As Blackout approached the cargo, Mathilda spoke over her shoulder, her tone dripping with condescension. “You’ve bought yourself a few more minutes of life, Eclipse. I hope you enjoy them.”

I stayed where I was, my mind racing as I assessed my options. The Triplets remained on edge, their weapons still trained on me. Lion King hadn’t moved, but his golden eyes never left me, his animalistic instincts clearly itching for a fight.

I had to stall further, sow more doubt. “Mathilda, before you crack that thing open, let me ask you something,” I said, my tone conversational but loud enough for everyone to hear. “If Royal sent me to protect that cargo, why would he have given me the password at all?”

She hesitated, just for a second. “But you said Nightgard…”

“Think about it,” I pressed. “You really believe Royal doesn’t have a contingency plan? That he’d just let you walk off with whatever’s inside without a fight?”

Mathilda’s smile wavered, but she kept walking. “Your little mind games won’t work on me, Eclipse. Blackout, proceed.”

Blackout gave me a brief glance, her expression unreadable beneath her hood, but she followed the order, approaching the cargo with steady steps.

While Blackout worked methodically on the cargo’s lock system, her movements deliberate and practiced, I decided to keep Mathilda talking.

“Are you sure you can trust these freelancers?” I asked, keeping my tone neutral, but letting just enough doubt seep into my words. “They were hired by Royal, after all… like me. If I’ve figured out that you’re the traitor, don’t you think they might have too? There Sharpy, Maruder, and just about everyone else... How about you, Blackout, and the Triplets? Would you lot be fine with working for her? Wouldn’t Royal be pissed about that? Seems to Mathilda here you wouldn’t let any of us freelancers walk away from this alive.”

Mathilda scoffed, her expression a mix of disdain and amusement. “The likes of you?” She gestured dismissively, like she was swatting away a fly. “You’re mercenaries. People who go where the money flows. And guess what? I’m the one paying here. Of course, they’ll listen to me.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly with a flicker of pride in her gaze. “You’re just an unfortunate casualty, Eclipse. A tool Royal threw at me in the hopes of sniffing me out. Do you really think I don’t know what this is? I’ve been aware for some time now that Sharpy and her little crew of misfits were meant to corner me. But Royal underestimated me.”

Mathilda's expression shifted, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as her frustration began to surface, barely masked by her smug demeanor.

“I’d make that royal punk regret ever sidelining me,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom. “It should have been me, not that punk-ass bitch Sharpy. I was ready to branch out, raise my own crew, and then what? He gives his blessing to some no-name independent who just happened to catch the Crow’s interest.”

She spat the words as if they left a bitter taste in her mouth. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and I could see her composure slipping. “If he thinks that bitch Sharpy was better than me, he’s sorely mistaken. It’s laughable, really. But I’ll admit,” she added, with a hint of begrudging respect, “you’ve impressed me. For someone as young as you, you’re surprisingly competent. I was sure you’d be dead after I sent you to guard the cargo alone in the lowest level of the ship. But somehow, you pulled through.”

I didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance that crossed her face as she said that.

"Guess what," I remarked softly. "I am harder to kill than a cockroach."