Now it was personal. The brothers charged together, a wall of muscle. Viktor dropped low, swept the legs of the first, and used the falling body as a stepping stone to launch a flying knee into the second.
He disappeared into the rainy night, leaving the Red Circle—and five broken men—behind him. Now it was personal
Viktor took the money, his eyes fixed on the exit. "Because," he said, his voice a low rasp, "when it’s five against one, they get overconfident. And overconfidence is the only opening I need." He disappeared into the rainy night, leaving the
The Ghost lunged. Viktor didn't retreat; he met the blade halfway. He caught the attacker’s wrist in a lock that sounded like dry wood snapping. The knife clattered to the floor. And overconfidence is the only opening I need
For the first three minutes, Viktor didn't strike. He danced. He used the brothers' momentum against each other, staying on the periphery, making the Five trip over their own shadows. He was "buying time," letting the adrenaline dump wear them out.