Chapter Eleven: See You Soon
The transport moved without sirens.
John Knight watched the road through reinforced glass, counting turns, spacing, rhythm. The city flowed normally—too normally.
Jack leaned back.
"They're trying to make us feel small."
Sam replied quietly,
"They're trying to make us feel finished."
Will smiled faintly.
"Same mistake every time."
Eva sat near the rear door, fingers resting loosely on her knees. Calm. Ready.
The police officer opposite them finally reached for the mounted tablet.
His hand shook.
"Sir," he said into the mic,
"we have them. All five. One vehicle."
The tablet chimed.
Scar appeared.
Smiling.
Relaxed. Seated comfortably, like a man watching his favorite scene replay.
"All together," Scar said pleasantly.
"Good. I hate chasing pieces."
John leaned forward slightly.
"You didn't call to confirm," John said.
"You called to watch."
Scar chuckled.
"Of course."
The screen shifted—news feeds, banners, alerts.
KNIGHT FAMILY DECLARED TERROR NETWORK
UNDERWORLD BOUNTY: 50 MILLION
GLOBAL ALERT — DEAD OR ALIVE
Scar studied their faces.
"You see?" Scar said calmly.
"I didn't need soldiers. I needed belief."
Jack scoffed.
"You borrowed fear."
Scar smiled wider.
"And you weaponized it."
Eva spoke evenly.
"You still needed a badge to move us."
"For safety," Scar replied lightly.
"Mine."
John met his gaze.
"You think you're ahead," John said.
Scar's smile deepened.
"I know I am."
John glanced once at Eva.
She nodded.
"Now," John said.
The whistle came.
Sharp. Clean.
The lead police vehicle exploded.
Fire tore across the road.
But before the shockwave settled—
Cars screeched in from every direction.
Black SUVs. Armored vans. Unmarked sedans.
They boxed the convoy in perfectly.
Men stepped out—calm, disciplined.
Rocket launchers rested casually on shoulders.
Not chaos.
Control.
The transport rocked as another rocket obliterated the rear escort.
The officer screamed.
Smoke poured in.
The tablet stayed live.
Scar watched—smiling.
"There it is," he said warmly.
"The part where the city understands."
John leaned forward against the cuffs.
"My order," he said calmly.
Scar nodded.
"I assumed."
Outside, the rear door was ripped open.
A man stepped in—well-dressed, unhurried.
He cut the cuffs with a single motion.
Then he pulled out a cigar box and open it.
John take one cigar on his lips and one man lit it.
John took a breath.
Smoke curled upward.
The man stepped back and nodded once.
Outside, the siblings moved—efficient, brutal, silent. Rockets stayed aimed outward. No blood crossed the altar space John had occupied moments ago.
Scar leaned closer to the camera.
"This isn't escape," Scar said, smiling.
"This is the beginning."
John exhaled slowly.
"You put my name on the street," he said.
"That was your mistake."
Scar laughed softly—pleased.
"No," he replied.
"That was my invitation."
The feed began to cut.
Scar raised a hand in farewell.
"See you soon, John."
The screen went black.
John stepped out into the smoke, cigar glowing in the dark.
The convoy burned behind him.
The hunt had officially begun.