The footsteps grew louder.

  Mike and Amina crouched inside the drainage tunnel, backs against the damp concrete. The air was thick with dust and something worse—the smell of stagnant water.

  Mike wiped sweat off his forehead. "Remind me never to trust Felix again."

  Amina smirked. "Remind me never to trust you again."

  The men outside were spreading out, their voices low but urgent. They weren’t just random guards. These were professionals. Killers.

  A flashlight beam swept across the tunnel entrance.

  Mike pulled Amina deeper into the shadows, pressing a finger to his lips.

  The beam lingered for a moment. Then—footsteps.

  They were coming in.

  Amina tapped Mike’s shoulder and pointed at the darkness ahead. The tunnel stretched on for about fifty meters, leading out into the bushes. An escape.

  Mike nodded. "Slow and quiet."

  They moved, each step deliberate. Water sloshed around their ankles.

  Behind them, the first man entered. His boots scraped against the concrete. He muttered something in Swahili, his voice sharp.

  Mike glanced back. A silhouette filled the tunnel, gun in hand.

  No choice.

  Mike lunged.

  His elbow caught the guy’s throat—hard. The man choked, staggered, but didn’t go down.

  Amina struck next, sweeping his legs. He hit the water with a grunt, and before he could react, she grabbed his head and slammed it against the tunnel wall.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Mike winced. "Jesus."

  Amina shrugged. "I told you, I’m just getting warmed up."

  More voices. The others had heard the struggle.

  Mike grabbed the fallen man's pistol and yanked Amina forward. "Time to run."

  They sprinted.

  The tunnel exit was just ahead—moonlight spilling in from the other side.

  Then—a hiss.

  Mike skidded to a stop.

  A massive black mamba slithered across the tunnel floor, its scales shimmering in the faint light. It lifted its head, tongue flicking.

  Amina groaned. "Oh, come on."

  Behind them, footsteps. Ahead of them, a highly aggressive, extremely venomous snake.

  Mike sighed. "I hate my life."

  Amina pulled out her knife. "We jump over it on three."

  Mike didn’t like the odds, but the odds weren’t giving him a choice.

  "One," he whispered.

  "Two," Amina tensed.

  "Three!"

  They leaped.

  Mike swore he saw the snake strike as he flew over it. But he didn’t stop—he landed, stumbled, and kept running.

  Amina landed cleaner, but there was no time to gloat.

  They burst out of the tunnel, tumbling into the grass.

  Gunfire erupted behind them, bullets ricocheting off the tunnel walls.

  Mike yanked Amina up, and they ran.

  The bushes swallowed them whole.

  For a moment, only the sounds of the night filled the air—crickets, the distant howl of a hyena, their own ragged breathing.

  Then—silence.

  They stopped near an old acacia tree.

  Amina bent over, hands on her knees. "Never. Again."

  Mike panted. "I’m choosing my own jobs from now on."

  A rustle in the trees.

  They spun—guns up.

  A shadow emerged.

  Felix.

  Looking way too smug for someone who just nearly got them killed.

  "Well," Felix said, grinning. "I see you survived."

  Mike glared at him. "We’re gonna kill you."

  Felix chuckled. "Before or after you hear the really bad news?"

  Mike’s stomach dropped.

  "Felix," he said slowly. "What did you do?"

  Felix’s grin faded.

  "They know who you are," he said. "And they’re coming for you."

  Silence.

  Mike glanced at Amina.

  Amina sighed. "Great. More running."

  And somewhere in the distance, gunfire cracked the night.

  Things were about to get a lot worse.