Jones’ lungs burned as they sprinted into the night. Every breath came ragged, each step dragging his aching body closer to their only chance at survival.Blackwood College sprawled ahead—silent, eerie, a battlefield waiting to be claimed.Jones didn’t hesitate. “Inside. Now.”Dre shoved open the rusted doors of the abandoned library, its grand walls now draped in dust and decay. The group staggered in, barely holding themselves together. Blood dripped, breaths hitched, but they weren’t done.Not yet.Jones turned, locking eyes with Riley, Kayla, and Dre. “We call them. All of them.”Kayla, still clutching her ribs, frowned. “You sure?”“No other choice,” he said, voice like steel. “We either stand together—or we fall.”He grabbed the emergency radio from his jacket, twisting the frequency dial.Static crackled.Then—“Jones?” A voice, sharp and clear.Leo.Jones exhaled, tension easing. “It’s time. Get everyone. Blackwood Library. Now.”No hesitation. “We’re coming.”The radio buzzed

Jones’ breath was ragged, his ribs screaming in protest as he pushed himself up from the rubble-strewn floor. Blood trickled from his temple, blurring his vision. Clinton’s gun was still aimed at his head, the smirk on his face one of pure control."Game over," Clinton said again, voice laced with satisfaction.Jones wiped the blood from his lip and grinned. "You keep saying that."Then, all hell broke loose.A flash of movement.Lexi struck first, a dagger flying from her hand. Clinton swayed at the last second, the blade slicing just past his cheek, leaving a thin red line. He cursed, firing a shot—but Lexi was already rolling away, vanishing into the smoke.Jones didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, slamming into Calhoun before he could fully recover from the last blow. They crashed to the ground, Jones’ knife aiming for the giant’s throat.Calhoun caught his wrist mid-air.Their eyes met—pure hatred burning between them.With a snarl, Calhoun twisted, flipping them both. Jones bare

The gunshot cracked through the night.Jones twisted just in time. The bullet grazed his ear instead of blowing his head off. Pain flared, sharp and searing, but he moved fast. His elbow slammed into Clinton’s ribs, forcing him to stumble back.Gunfire still roared around them. The half-built construction site was a battlefield of chaos—screams, bullets, the clash of steel against steel.Clinton recovered fast, raising his pistol again. Jones didn't give him the chance. He lunged, gripping Clinton’s wrist, forcing the gun upward as another shot fired wildly into the sky.Clinton snarled, eyes burning. “You’re persistent.”Jones gritted his teeth, muscles straining against Clinton’s strength. “And you’re done running.”He twisted, slamming Clinton’s hand into a nearby steel beam. The gun clattered to the ground.Clinton didn't hesitate. He drove a knee into Jones' stomach, then followed up with a ruthless punch to his jaw. Jones stumbled back, vision blurring for half a second. It was

The explosion tore through the east wing of Blackwood College, shaking the very foundation of the battlefield. Smoke and fire erupted, swallowing the air with an acrid stench. Shattered glass and burning wood rained down like a storm, obscuring the chaos unfolding beneath it.Through the thick haze, Jones surged forward, his crew right behind him, weapons drawn, their determination set in stone.This was it.The final battle.And he was ready to end Clinton for good.On the other side of the field, Clinton stood tall despite the destruction around him. His forces, battered and bleeding, formed a tight line behind him, outnumbered and overwhelmed. The weight of war clung to them, their muscles stiff from exhaustion. Yet, in Clinton’s eyes, there was no fear.No regret.Just a glint of something Jones couldn’t place.Something that made his gut tighten.Jones took a step forward, his voice cutting through the smoke.“You should’ve stayed gone, Clinton.”Clinton dusted off his shoulders

Jones paced the ruined halls of Blackwood College, his mind a battlefield of unanswered questions. The weight of recent disappearances pressed against his chest like a vice. Derrick was gone. Leo was gone. Dre had returned, but he might as well have been a ghost, lost in a haze of missing time and fear.The silence was heavier than the gunfire that had once ripped through these halls. It wasn’t the silence of peace. It was the silence before something unspeakable.Lexi stood at the far end of the hall, her arms crossed, eyes sharp with worry. “Boss, this isn’t a coincidence,” she said, voice low.Jones nodded. “I know.”But knowing wasn’t enough.Clinton was still playing the game. The problem was—Jones didn’t know what the game was.And that terrified him.Clinton stood in the underground surveillance chamber, his fingers gliding over a rusted keyboard. The glow from the monitors illuminated his smirk as he watched Jones through flickering screens.The fool still thought he was in co