Chapter 18 — When They Hunt Together
They didn't come for one Knight.
They came for all of them.
Harlan Voss never worked alone.
That was the lie people believed.
In truth, he only worked with those who understood one rule:
Finish the job in one night—or don't start it at all.
By dusk, his people were already in position.
Six teams.
Three rooftops.
Two vans.
One purpose.
The bounty wasn't split.
It was shared.
The Knights felt it before they saw it.
Not danger—attention.
Sam stopped mid-step.
"We're being watched."
Jack cracked his neck.
"Good. It's been quiet."
Eva scanned reflections in glass windows, parked cars, puddles of rainwater.
"Not amateurs," she said.
"They're spacing themselves."
John didn't slow down.
"Then they want us moving."
That's when the first shot came.
Not aimed to kill.
A round struck the pavement three feet ahead of John—precise, intentional.
A message.
The street exploded into motion.
Civilians scattered as vans screeched into place, doors sliding open. Armed figures poured out—not chaotic, not shouting.
Disciplined.
Coordinated.
Gunfire stitched the air—not toward the Knights' bodies, but their paths, forcing separation.
"They're herding us," Will growled.
Eva grabbed John's sleeve.
"No," she said calmly.
"They're trying."
Jack charged straight into the nearest line.
They fired.
He didn't stop.
He hit the first man hard enough to fold him. Took the second's weapon and turned it sideways—disabling, not killing.
Sam vanished into smoke and shadow, taking angles apart piece by piece.
Will overturned a parked car, using it as moving cover as rounds sparked off steel.
John walked.
Not rushed.
Not hidden.
Watching how they moved.
Learning.
Harlan watched from above.
"Don't focus fire," he ordered calmly.
"Pressure them. Break formation."
They tried.
Eva answered.
She moved into the center of the street, long cloth snapping outward, catching rifle barrels and yanking them off-line. Shots went wild—harmless.
She closed distance with brutal efficiency.
One hunter went down hard.
Another followed.
Not dead.
Removed.
John looked up.
He found Harlan's scope.
And smiled.
That was the mistake.
The Knights regrouped instinctively—backs aligning, spacing tightening.
They weren't surrounded.
They were anchored.
Jack broke a firing line.
Will smashed through cover.
Sam disabled comms.
Eva stood at the front.
John stepped beside her.
"This is their best," Jack said.
"Feels expensive."
John nodded.
"Then we make it memorable."
The hunters realized it at the same time.
This wasn't prey reacting.
This was predators deciding.
Gunfire slowed.
Hesitation crept in.
Harlan's voice sharpened.
"Stay on them—don't let them—"
The sentence never finished.
The street went quiet.
By night's end, the bounty still stood.
Untouched.
But every survivor carried the same lesson.
They hadn't failed because they were weak.
They had failed because they had come together.
And even that wasn't enough.
Somewhere far away, Scar read the report.
His smile returned—wide, genuine.
"Good," he said.
"Now they're worth watching."
The city exhaled slowly.
The hunt had changed again.