The Amazon Rainforest, Brazil

  An ancient entity, living and breathing, shifts its visage from the vibrant colors of day to a mysterious, obsidian night. Beyond the breathtaking beauty of its winding rivers and sprawling canopy, the forest draped itself in a mist that guarded unreachable secrets. It was a silent reminder that humans are but small, fleeting guests in the presence of a wilderness so primal, so powerful, and far older than the history of civilization itself.

  Deep within this isolated interior lay one of the secret strongholds of Os Ca?adores. But the tranquility of the night had been shattered. The atmosphere inside the base was like a scorched hornet’s nest; hunters scrambled to pack tactical gear, their faces etched with the strain of dwindling time.

  "Enemy position?" a voice barked.

  "Closing in! Red zone!"

  "We need to pull out now." Jones turned his head, locking eyes with the woman beside him. "Rosa!"

  "What’s the plan?" she snapped back.

  "We split up."

  "Understood."

  Without wasting a heartbeat, the two units veered in opposite directions. Jones led four men into the southern darkness, while Rosa’s team sprinted toward the west.

  Seconds later, the earth groaned beneath them. A violent explosion erupted behind them, swallowing the headquarters in a roiling ball of fire. It was a deliberate act—ensuring every document and organizational secret turned to ash before falling into enemy hands.

  "Status?" Jones asked without looking back, his legs churning through the dense undergrowth.

  "They’re pursuing Rosa’s team."

  Jones went silent. His features hardened, his focus narrowing to the path ahead.

  "They won’t stand a chance against them, Jones," one of his men said, his voice heavy with regret.

  "Even if we turned back, our fate would be the same," Jones replied coldly, though a flicker of suppressed sympathy ghosted through his tone. "Rosa knows the risks. Keep moving."

  In the western sector, Rosa—a woman of sturdy build and moderate height—was pushing her adrenaline to the limit. Though her team knew every twist of this forest, the desperation on their faces was unmistakable. They weren’t just running; they were being preyed upon.

  "The gap is closing too fast!" a teammate yelled, his breathing ragged and uneven.

  Rosa grit her teeth. She knew they couldn’t outrun what was coming.

  "Stop! Battle positions!" she commanded.

  Their momentum died instantly. Packs were hurled to the dirt, replaced by weapons drawn with practiced lethality. They pivoted, bracing for the threat.

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  Their eyes pierced the thick gloom. Even in the pitch-black heart of the forest, their hunter instincts allowed them to track movement ghosting behind the shadows of the trees.

  "They’re here," Rosa whispered, her finger tensed against the trigger.

  A strange, hollow silence settled over the woods, as if the crickets and night birds had been forcibly silenced. The oppressive quiet sent a shiver of dread down Rosa’s spine. Every sense, from her hearing to her fingertips, was dialed to maximum alert. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

  "Rosa... the Rose of the Midnight Moon."

  A woman’s voice, melodic and soft, drifted through the stillness. It echoed from all directions, a phantom without a form. Rosa and her men flinched, their eyes darting wildly to find the source.

  "Peace... we are not here to spill your blood," the voice continued, calm yet saturated with a hidden edge.

  Rosa’s blood ran cold. She recognized that voice.

  "Misaki Raiden," Rosa hissed, her eyes narrowing at a patch of darkness. "The Silent Killer."

  That name alone was enough to turn her men’s faces ashen.

  "The most dangerous assassin from The Hand," one of them muttered, his hand trembling slightly on the grip of his rifle.

  "Tell me... where is Mason Ward?" Misaki asked. Her voice sounded closer now, yet she remained invisible.

  "You think I’ll talk that easily?" Rosa countered harshly.

  "Haven’t you already gotten what you wanted from him? Ten years of living a lie, playing the perfect wife just to get Victoria’s location."

  "He is still my husband!" Rosa interrupted, her voice a mix of defiance and raw emotion. "Even if I lose my life tonight, I will never hand him over to you."

  "Oh... I see."

  The air went still for a moment before Misaki’s voice returned, stripped of all gentleness.

  "Fine. Since you’ve chosen the hard way, I won’t ask again."

  Rosa’s instincts screamed a warning.

  "Look out!" she shrieked. She knew a killing strike was coming in a heartbeat.

  "Bullets are useless against her! We have to shift!" one of Rosa’s men screamed. He threw his rifle down, followed by the others, their expressions masks of grim determination.

  The four men began to snarl, faces tilting toward the night sky as their bodies shuddered in the violent throes of transformation. But before the change could complete, they were suddenly struck by an invisible, razor-sharp vortex of wind. Instantly, they froze—standing bolt upright as if nailed to the earth, unable to complete their transition into werewolves.

  Rosa stood paralyzed. Her eyes widened as a masked figure now stood regally before her, gripping a samurai sword that shimmered coldly under the moonlight.

  "Don’t worry, I won’t kill them," the figure said frostily. It was Misaki Raiden, Level One Executive of The Hand.

  "We were only following orders," Rosa said, her voice shaking despite her efforts to stay composed.

  "Stealing from us was a grave mistake, let alone doing it within our own borders," Misaki emphasized, each word cutting like a scalpel.

  "Yes, I admit it was a mistake. But believe me, I didn’t get that information from Mason. Mason sold it to House Varkalis without my knowledge!" Rosa pleaded.

  Misaki Raiden stepped forward, one slow pace at a time. Her eyes burned with sharp intensity behind her mask. "Do not try to lie to me."

  "I’m not lying! That is the truth! Everything Mason did was because he wanted out—he wanted to escape The Hand’s grip and live with me in Switzerland!" Rosa cried out.

  "And he thought he could hide from us?"

  Rosa could only shake her head, her face etched with crushing regret. The weapon in her hand slipped from her fingers, thudding into the dirt in a gesture of total surrender.

  "Commander!" a voice called from the rear, breaking the tension.

  "Report," Misaki said without turning.

  "Lady Jane has ordered your immediate return to Manhattan."

  "Why?"

  "I don’t know, Commander."

  Misaki stared into Rosa’s eyes for a few more seconds before sheathing her blade with a single, lightning-fast motion.

  "Take them all," Misaki ordered her subordinates.

  "There are still remnants of the hunting party that escaped, Commander. Should we pursue?"

  "No need. These will suffice."

  Rosa looked at Misaki with hollow eyes. "I truly don’t know where Mason is. The last time I saw him was at the airport. Since that day, he hasn’t contacted me."

  "If he truly loves you, he will come to us himself," Misaki replied, before turning and vanishing into the night.