CHAPTER 10
GHOSTS STEP INSIDE THE WALLS
The compound woke before the sun.
Not out of routine.
Out of instinct.
Even the civilians moved quieter now, as if something deep in their bodies understood what their minds hadn’t said out loud yet…the walls weren’t protection anymore. They were a line drawn in dirt. And lines existed to be tested.
Metal clanged in controlled rhythm near the maintenance sector. Patrols rotated with clockwork discipline. Guards on the towers scanned the same angles again and again, eyes burning from repetition, not because they expected something new…
…but because missing something once was enough to lose everything.
And everyone here had already lost too much.
Rudra stood at the southern wall long before light broke across the sky.
Fog clung low over the clearing, thick and unmoving. The ridge beyond remained occupied …shadows shifting, repositioning, breathing with intent. Western operators had taken a new angle overnight. Sentinel and Archer held a wider perimeter now. Hunter stayed higher up, barely visible unless you knew where to look.
And Prophet…
She had vanished.
Not retreated.
Repositioned.
Rudra could feel it.
Someone with her skill didn’t stay static once contact became inevitable. She’d moved closer. Somewhere inside the terrain. Somewhere that gave her angles. She was watching from a new vantage.
Mapping him.
Mapping the compound.
Mapping reactions.
Mapping outcomes.
Rudra’s jaw tightened slightly. Not fear. Not anticipation.
Recognition.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Jacob.
He didn’t speak immediately. Just stood beside Rudra, eyes fixed on the same horizon, posture calm but alert…the stance of a man who knew the difference between danger and inevitability.
“People inside are starting to ask questions,” Jacob said quietly.
Rudra didn’t respond.
Jacob continued.
“They know this isn’t infected pressure.”
A beat.
“They know someone out there wants something.”
Rudra glanced at him.
Jacob met his gaze.
“…and they know it’s you.”
No accusation.
Just truth.
Rudra exhaled slowly.
“Yes.”
Jacob nodded.
“Good.”
Rudra frowned slightly.
Jacob clarified.
“Fear spreads when people don’t know what’s happening.”
A pause.
“But fear stabilizes when they do.”
He turned toward the interior of the compound, watching movement between buildings …families, guards, workers pretending routine still meant safety.
“You’re not just a survivor here anymore.”
Rudra didn’t answer.
Jacob finished the thought anyway.
“You’re the reason we prepare.”
The words didn’t feel like blame.
They felt like weight.
And Rudra felt it settle where it always did …behind the ribs, pressing inward, familiar and heavy. Leadership pressure. Responsibility pressure. The kind that didn’t scream… just stayed.
Inside the housing sector, Roxanne watched Max help Mia reinforce window plates.
Rick coordinated with Caleb near the supply corridor, voice low, efficient. No wasted words. No wasted motion.
The place felt…different now.
Less like a refuge.
More like a position.
People weren’t resting here anymore.
They were bracing.
Every movement carried intent. Every glance checked exits. Even laughter …when it happened …died faster than it should have.
No one said it aloud.
But everyone knew.
Something was coming.
Roxanne stepped away and moved toward the southern wall.
She found Rudra and Jacob already there.
“You’re drawing them in,” she said quietly.
Rudra didn’t deny it.
Jacob didn’t interrupt.
Roxanne looked at the ridge.
“…how many people know what you were?”
Rudra answered without hesitation.
“None.”
Jacob raised an eyebrow.
“None?”
Rudra shook his head.
“They knew the codename. Not the man.”
Roxanne frowned.
“Codename?”
Rudra didn’t respond.
Jacob did.
“Military intelligence?”
Rudra met his gaze.
“…something like that.”
Jacob nodded slowly.
He’d suspected.
But confirmation changed the equation.
Because intelligence operatives didn’t just carry skill.
They carried secrets.
And secrets survived longer than governments.
Miles away along the ridge, Prophet moved through brush silently, relocating toward a lower observation point.
She preferred proximity.
Distance gave information.
Proximity gave understanding.
And she needed understanding.
Because Phoenix wasn’t behaving like the operative she remembered.
He wasn’t isolating.
Wasn’t dismantling threats alone.
Wasn’t removing variables with surgical detachment.
He’d anchored himself.
To survivors.
To structure.
To responsibility.
That was new.
And it meant something inside him had shifted.
Something deep.
Hunter moved parallel to her position.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t question.
Just matched her pace.
Sentinel and Archer held back further, maintaining overwatch. The western team rotated again, still refusing direct engagement.
Predators sharing a battlefield.
All waiting for the same thing.
Weakness.
Prophet finally stopped near a fallen tree, crouching low.
From here, the compound wall was visible through a gap in the terrain.
And Rudra…
Phoenix…
Stood clearly on the platform.
Watching.
Always watching.
Her chest tightened slightly.
Not emotion.
Recognition.
Years of missions replayed instinctively.
His posture.
His weight distribution.
The way his eyes tracked movement before it happened.
He hadn’t lost it.
Hadn’t softened.
He’d just… redirected it.
From missions… to people.
Hunter spoke quietly beside her.
“You were closest to him.”
Not a question.
A statement.
Prophet didn’t deny it.
“Yes.”
Hunter studied the compound.
“He followed orders in Delhi.”
Prophet nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Hunter’s voice hardened slightly.
“…and it cost lives.”
A pause.
Prophet’s gaze stayed steady.
“It always did.”
The memory surfaced again.
Not fully.
Just fragments.
Hotel corridors.
Gunfire echoing off marble and concrete.
Smoke choking stairwells.
Phoenix moving through rooms methodically.
Hunter covering flanks.
Prophet guiding through intel streams.
Command repeating extraction priorities.
Civilians trapped.
Officials moved first.
Chaos.
Fire.
Screams.
The moment everything fractured.
Back in the present, Prophet exhaled slowly.
“He didn’t choose to abandon them,” she said.
Hunter didn’t respond.
She continued.
“He chose to follow a chain that believed saving leadership meant saving the nation.”
A beat.
“And when that chain broke…”
Her eyes softened just slightly.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“…Phoenix stopped believing in it.”
Inside the compound, Rudra turned away from the ridge and walked toward the inner corridor.
Roxanne followed.
“You’ve worked with them,” she said.
Rudra nodded.
“Yes.”
“Together?”
A pause.
“…once.”
She studied his face.
“That was enough.”
He didn’t argue.
Because she was right.
With people like them… once was always enough.
Rick intercepted them near the supply hall.
“Jacob wants you in operations,” Rick said.
Rudra nodded.
Roxanne followed anyway.
Inside, the room was tense.
Caleb stood near the map.
Elena beside him.
Thomas updating resource projections.
Jacob looked up as Rudra entered.
“We’ve got movement on the west ridge,” Jacob said.
“Western team shifting closer?”
“Yes.”
“Engagement posture?”
“Not yet.”
Jacob studied him.
“You understand them better than we do.”
Rudra shook his head.
“No.”
Jacob frowned.
“You were trained like them.”
“Yes.”
“Then what are they waiting for?”
Rudra looked at the map.
Then the ridge.
Then the compound.
“…confirmation.”
“Of what?”
A long pause.
“…that I matter enough.”
Silence fell.
Because everyone in that room realized something at the same time.
This wasn’t random.
This wasn’t opportunistic.
This was deliberate.
Structured.
Calculated.
Rudra wasn’t just being hunted.
He was being evaluated.
Outside the compound, Prophet lowered her binoculars slowly.
Decision forming.
The battlefield had stabilized.
Positions established.
Intent understood.
The next step was inevitable.
Contact.
Not gunfire.
Not an attack.
Something more dangerous.
Conversation.
Because information changed wars faster than bullets ever could.
Hunter watched her carefully.
“You’re going in.”
Not a question.
She nodded once.
“Yes.”
Sentinel stepped forward.
“That breaks protocol.”
Prophet met his eyes.
“There is no protocol anymore.”
Archer remained silent.
Watching.
Understanding.
Hunter exhaled slowly.
“…he won’t trust it.”
Prophet’s gaze shifted back to the compound.
“I don’t need trust.”
A beat.
“I need truth.”
Inside the compound, Rudra suddenly stopped mid-step.
The sensation hit instantly.
Movement.
Close.
Not outside.
Inside the perimeter.
Not aggressive.
Intentional.
Calculated.
His instincts sharpened instantly. Breathing slowed. Muscles tightened. Mind mapping entry points before conscious thought caught up.
He turned toward the southern wall.
Eyes narrowing.
Roxanne saw it immediately.
“What?”
Rudra’s voice dropped.
“…she’s coming.”
Roxanne frowned.
“Who?”
Rudra looked toward the gate.
For the first time since entering the compound…
…uncertainty flickered across his expression.
“…Prophet.”
The gates didn’t open.
Jacob didn’t allow it.
Not yet.
No one walked into his compound without layers of verification, and even then, trust came slowly…measured in action, not words. Walls existed for a reason. Systems survived because they assumed deception.
But something shifted the moment Rudra said her codename aloud.
Prophet.
The word didn’t echo.
It settled.
Moved through the operations room like a current running under metal.
Caleb stiffened.
Elena’s eyes sharpened.
Thomas stopped mid-sentence.
Rick glanced at Roxanne.
Mia’s gaze locked on Rudra.
Max didn’t understand…but he felt the tension tightening the air.
Jacob stepped forward slowly.
“…she’s inside the perimeter?”
Rudra nodded once.
“Yes.”
“How?”
A pause.
Rudra didn’t look at anyone when he answered.
“…she was never outside it.”
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Because that meant one thing.
She had already crossed defensive lines without detection.
Which meant Jacob’s compound…one of the most structured survivor systems left…had just been infiltrated without noise, without force, without resistance.
Not breached.
Entered.
And that realization sat wrong in everyone’s chest.
Guards were dispatched immediately.
Not to attack.
To locate.
Perimeter scans tightened.
Interior routes monitored.
Movement restricted.
Checkpoints doubled.
Jacob didn’t shout.
Didn’t panic.
He adjusted.
Because leaders who survived this long understood something simple…
If someone like Prophet wanted inside…
she had already mapped every path.
Panic would only prove her assessment correct.
Rudra moved toward the southern corridor without waiting.
Roxanne followed.
Rick too.
Mia and Max close behind.
Jacob let them go.
Because this wasn’t his fight yet.
This was something older.
Older than the compound.
Older than the outbreak.
Older than the walls.
Something buried.
They reached the secondary entry tunnel…a narrow maintenance route used for controlled external scouting.
Two guards lay on the concrete floor.
Unconscious.
Not dead.
Not even injured.
Just neutralized.
No broken noses.
No blood.
No signs of struggle.
Their rifles rested neatly against the wall.
Precision.
Rudra crouched beside one.
Checked pulse.
Steady.
Breathing normal.
No concussion swelling. No visible nerve damage.
“…she doesn’t kill when she doesn’t need to,” he said quietly.
Roxanne crossed her arms.
“That comforting?”
Rudra shook his head slightly.
“No.”
A beat.
“It’s worse.”
Because mercy meant calculation.
And calculation meant she’d made a decision.
Footsteps echoed ahead.
Slow.
Measured.
Unhurried.
Not sneaking.
Not running.
Rudra stood.
The others froze instinctively.
Weapons lowered…but ready.
And then…
She stepped into view.
Aditi Rao.
Prophet.
No weapon drawn.
No raised hands.
No attempt to appear harmless.
Just stillness.
Her eyes scanned the corridor once…angles, exits, spacing…then settled on Rudra.
Recognition passed between them.
Years of missions.
Years of silence.
Years of unfinished words.
“Phoenix,” she said softly.
The codename landed heavier than his real name ever did.
It didn’t just identify him.
It pulled him backward.
For a fraction of a second, Delhi flickered behind his eyes…smoke, orders, corridors, extraction routes.
Rudra didn’t respond immediately.
He studied her.
Confirming posture. Breathing pattern. Micro-tension in shoulders.
Not hostile.
Not relaxed.
Focused.
“…Prophet.”
No one else moved.
No one spoke.
Roxanne watched carefully, reading body language the way she read terrain.
Rick shifted his stance half a degree…enough to step in if needed.
Mia’s fingers tightened around her blade, her mind already mapping first strike angles.
Max stayed back, sensing instinctively this moment didn’t belong to him.
It belonged to another world.
Prophet stepped forward.
One step.
Then stopped.
Maintaining distance.
Always aware of spacing.
“Good perimeter,” she said calmly. “Weak south tunnel rotation.”
Rudra knew she wasn’t insulting.
She was informing.
Jacob would hate hearing it.
But she wasn’t wrong.
Rudra felt the weight of that.
A system he was helping stabilize… had already been measured and penetrated.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Rudra said.
His voice stayed level.
No anger.
No accusation.
Just fact.
She nodded.
“Agreed.”
“Then why are you?”
A pause.
Her eyes softened…not emotionally.
Strategically.
“…because you won’t leave.”
That landed differently.
Roxanne glanced at Rudra.
Rick watched both of them.
Mia stayed motionless.
Max barely breathed.
Rudra felt something tighten inside his chest.
She wasn’t wrong.
He could leave.
He just wouldn’t.
“You anchored yourself,” Prophet continued. “That changes everything.”
Rudra crossed his arms.
“Not for me.”
“For everyone else.”
A beat.
“You’re not a ghost anymore.”
That one cut.
The words hit harder than she intended.
Because it was true.
Phoenix had always been invisible.
A tool.
A weapon.
Now…
He stood in the open.
Connected.
Responsible.
Human.
And humans could be targeted.
Roxanne finally spoke.
“You’re the intel one.”
Prophet looked at her.
Assessed posture. Tone. Intent.
“Yes.”
“Friend?”
A pause.
“…former partner.”
The word was precise.
Not romantic.
Not distant.
Accurate.
Rudra felt the memory shift again.
Mission briefings shared.
Silent nods before breaches.
Trust without conversation.
Rudra’s jaw tightened slightly.
“Why are the remnants still tracking me?” He asked asked.
No hesitation.
No politeness.
Straight to the core.
Prophet nodded.
She’d expected that.
“Because you’re not just an operative anymore,” she said.
“You’re a stabilizer.”
Rick frowned.
“What does that mean?”
She turned to him.
“Systems form around people like him.”
A beat.
“Survivor compounds. Trade routes. Defence networks.”
Her gaze returned to Rudra.
“And whoever controls Phoenix…”
She didn’t finish.
She didn’t need to.
Power.
Not political.
Strategic.
Max finally spoke.
“…so they’re hunting him?”
Prophet shook her head slowly.
“No.”
A pause.
“They’re positioning around him.”
That answer was worse.
Because hunting ended with death.
Positioning meant planning.
It meant negotiation. Pressure. Leverage.
It meant long-term.
Rudra stepped closer.
Close enough now that only a few feet separated them now.
“Hunter still believes in the directive?” he asked quietly.
Prophet’s eyes flickered.
For the first time…
Emotion.
Thin. Controlled. There and gone.
“…he believes in finishing things,” she said.
“Delhi wasn’t finished.”
The name sat in the corridor like smoke.
Unavoidable.
Sharp.
Alive.
Rudra’s shoulders shifted slightly.
Subtle.
But real.
A memory pressing forward.
Something unresolved.
Something unfinished.
Roxanne noticed.
She didn’t know the full story.
But she knew trauma when she saw it.
Prophet spoke again.
“The agency died with the world,” she said.
“No command. No authority.”
“Then why keep following orders?” Rudra asked.
Her voice dropped.
“…because some missions don’t end when governments fall.”
A beat.
“You know that better than anyone.”
He did.
Because she wasn’t wrong.
Even here.
Even now.
He was still operating.
Still protecting.
Still shaping outcomes.
Just without a flag.
Without a command.
Without a nation.
Prophet stepped back half a pace.
Giving space.
Always thinking about angles.
“I didn’t come to capture you,” she said.
“I came to warn you.”
Rudra’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“About what?”
Her gaze shifted toward the outer walls.
“The western unit isn’t here for leverage.”
A pause.
“They’re here for removal.”
Rick stiffened.
“Removal?”
Prophet nodded.
“They don’t want Phoenix controlled.”
“They want him erased.”
The word erased didn’t need elaboration.
It meant clean.
It meant final.
It meant no body to rally around.
Max swallowed.
Mia didn’t react outwardly…but her grip tightened until her knuckles went pale.
Roxanne didn’t look at Prophet.
She looked at Rudra.
Because this was the first time the threat had been spoken clearly.
This was about assassination.
Rudra held Prophet’s gaze.
“…and Hunter?” he asked.
A long pause.
Prophet didn’t look away.
“…he hasn’t decided yet.”
That answer carried everything.
Conflict.
Loyalty.
History.
Unfinished mission.
For the first time…
Phoenix and Prophet stood facing each other not as operatives…
…but as survivors.
People carrying ghosts that refused to die.
And somewhere beyond the walls…
Hunter watched.
Waiting.
Because the moment Phoenix and Prophet stood face to face…
the old world had stepped fully into the new one.
And nothing after that conversation would stay simple.
No one moved for a long moment after Prophet’s warning.
The corridor held its breath.
Rick’s eyes flicked toward the operations wing, already thinking ahead…containment, fallback, evacuation routes if things turned hostile.
Mia shifted her stance, instinctively placing herself between Max and the tunnel entrance. Protection first. Questions later.
Roxanne stayed still beside Rudra, watching Prophet with the quiet intensity of someone who measured people before deciding whether to trust them…or kill them.
And Rudra…
He didn’t look away from Prophet.
Because this wasn’t just another encounter.
This was history stepping back into his life.
Not memory.
Not regret.
Presence.
Alive.
Jacob arrived seconds later, Caleb and Elena at his sides.
Weapons ready.
Eyes scanning.
Posture controlled.
Jacob’s gaze landed on the unconscious guards first.
Then on Prophet.
Then on Rudra.
“…you let her walk in,” Jacob said.
Rudra didn’t answer.
Because that wasn’t what happened.
No one had let her in.
She’d chosen the moment. The path. The timing.
Jacob studied Prophet carefully.
Not threatened.
Evaluating.
“You neutralized my perimeter without casualties,” he said.
Prophet nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t come as an enemy.”
Jacob’s eyes narrowed.
“That’s not proof.”
A pause.
Prophet held his gaze.
“It’s intention.”
Jacob didn’t react immediately.
Because intention meant nothing without outcome.
And outcome was still forming.
Caleb stepped forward slightly.
“Name,” he demanded.
Prophet didn’t hesitate.
“Aditi Rao.”
Jacob watched her carefully.
Then:
“And your role?”
She didn’t hide it.
“Recon. Intelligence. Predictive analysis.”
Caleb exhaled sharply.
“Spy.”
Prophet didn’t correct him.
Because that was close enough.
Jacob turned to Rudra.
“You knew she was coming.”
Rudra nodded.
“Yes.”
“You trust her?”
A long pause.
He thought about Delhi.
About silent comms.
About decisions made before bullets were fired.
“…I trust her purpose.”
Jacob studied him for a second longer.
Then nodded.
That was enough.
For now.
They moved into the operations room.
Doors secured.
Guards posted.
Interior routes locked.
No civilians nearby.
Just leaders.
Operatives.
People who understood what was at stake.
Prophet stood near the map table, eyes scanning resource lines, patrol routes, defensive choke points, blind angles.
She didn’t need time.
Her mind absorbed structure the way others absorbed sound.
Jacob noticed immediately.
“…you read systems fast,” he said.
Prophet glanced at him.
“Systems are predictable,” she replied.
“People aren’t.”
Jacob nodded slowly.
“Good answer.”
Because that meant she knew the difference between control and chaos.
And Rudra existed somewhere in between.
Rudra stayed near the wall.
Watching.
Listening.
Waiting.
Because he knew what came next.
Questions.
Truth.
Delhi.
Rick leaned forward.
“You said the western unit wants him erased,” he said.
Prophet nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?” Max asked.
Prophet looked at him.
“Because he’s the variable.”
She didn’t soften the explanation.
Didn’t simplify it.
Max needed to understand what world he was standing in now.
She pointed to the map.
“Survivor networks are forming,” she explained.
“Trade corridors. Defense alliances. Resource consolidation.”
Her finger stopped near the compound.
“And Phoenix strengthens every system he touches.”
A beat.
“That makes him dangerous to anyone trying to control the region.”
Mia spoke quietly.
“So, they remove him.”
Prophet nodded.
“Yes.”
Not out of hatred.
Not out of revenge.
Out of strategy.
Jacob crossed his arms.
“And the agency remnants?”
A long silence followed.
Because this was the real question.
The one buried beneath everything else.
Prophet finally answered.
“We were built to prevent instability,” she said.
“Phoenix creates stability.”
Jacob frowned.
“That sounds like a reason to protect him.”
Prophet met his gaze.
“In the old world, yes.”
A pause.
“In this one… stability creates power centres.”
Her voice dropped.
“And power centres become nations.”
The weight of that landed hard.
Because everyone in that room understood.
The apocalypse hadn’t ended politics.
It had reset them.
Rebuilt them.
Stripped them down to survival and control.
Rudra finally spoke.
“So, they’re not hunting me.”
Prophet shook her head.
“No.”
“They’re deciding whether to align… or eliminate.”
The difference mattered.
Hunting was emotional.
Elimination was clinical.
Silence settled again.
Heavy.
Final.
Jacob turned away from the table.
Looked at Rudra.
“…you’re not just a man anymore, are you.”
Rudra didn’t respond.
Because he didn’t know the answer himself.
Jacob didn’t expect one.
Across the ridge, Hunter watched the compound through his scope.
Sentinel crouched beside him.
Archer rotated position behind.
The western unit had shifted closer.
Still outside engagement range.
Still patient.
Still calculating.
Hunter lowered the scope slowly.
“They’re talking,” he said.
Sentinel nodded.
“Yes.”
Archer spoke quietly.
“Prophet’s inside.”
Sentinel didn’t react.
But Hunter did.
A shift in posture.
Almost imperceptible.
But real.
He remembered her voice in comms.
Predicting movement before it happened.
Completing Phoenix’s blind spots.
Matching his pace in operations no one else survived.
The only operative who could keep up with him.
And now…
She’d stepped back into the same orbit.
By choice.
Sentinel spoke.
“You still hesitate.”
Hunter didn’t respond.
Sentinel continued.
“Phoenix followed orders in Delhi.”
“Yes.”
“And people died.”
Hunter’s jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
Sentinel leaned closer.
“And if he becomes the centre of a new system?”
A pause.
Hunter finally answered.
“…then the world changes around him.”
Sentinel nodded.
“Exactly.”
Inside the operations room, Prophet turned back toward Rudra.
“Hunter will come,” she said quietly.
Rudra didn’t look surprised.
“When?”
A beat.
“When he decides whether he’s still Hunter… or Vikram.”
The name landed hard.
Heavy.
Personal.
Alive.
Roxanne noticed the shift instantly.
“You know his real name,” she said.
Prophet nodded.
“Yes.”
Roxanne glanced at Rudra.
“And you?”
A pause.
Rudra spoke quietly.
“…Vikram Dixit.”
The room went still.
Because that changed everything.
Codenames were tools.
Real names meant history.
Rick exhaled slowly.
“…you worked with him.”
Rudra nodded.
“Once.”
“Delhi,” Mia said.
Rudra didn’t deny it.
Prophet’s eyes softened slightly.
“The only mission Phoenix and Hunter ran side by side,” she said.
“A hotel siege. Hundreds trapped. Officials inside.”
Her voice stayed controlled.
But memory pushed underneath it.
“Command prioritized extraction.”
“Phoenix followed it.”
“Hunter… didn’t agree.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Because everyone understood what that meant.
Not betrayal.
Not failure.
Conflict.
Ideological.
Personal.
Unfinished.
Rudra stepped away from the wall.
For the first time…
Emotion slipped through the control.
Subtle.
But real.
“…we did what we were ordered,” he said.
Prophet met his gaze.
“Yes.”
A beat.
“But orders don’t bury consequences.”
That line stayed in the air.
Sharp.
Unavoidable.
Outside, Hunter shifted position along the ridge.
Decision forming.
Not complete.
But close.
Because Prophet had stepped onto the board.
Phoenix had revealed his face.
And the western unit had shown intent.
Everything was aligning.
Everything moving toward the inevitable.
Back inside the compound, Jacob spoke quietly.
“If Hunter comes here,” he said, “we don’t treat him as an enemy.”
Caleb frowned.
“Why not?”
Jacob looked at Rudra.
“Because this isn’t just about war.”
A pause.
“It’s about unfinished history.”
Rudra met his gaze.
And for the first time since entering the compound…
He understood what was coming.
Not a battle.
Not yet.
A confrontation.
Personal.
Raw.
Inevitable.
Phoenix and Hunter.
Not as codenames.
As men.
Standing face to face…
With Delhi still burning between them.
