Page 101 of Celestial Combat

The first shot cracked through the humid night air, sharp and unmistakable. Then came the full burst – rapid, relentless machine-gun fire tearing through the stillness like thunder.

The men scattered.

I hid behind the nearest shipping container, the cold metal biting through the thin fabric of my clothes as I pressed my back against it. Bullets ricocheted off steel, sparks flying in the dim light, the deafening roar of gunfire drowning out everything else.

Next to me, Zane didn’t flinch when a bullet flew just inches above our heads.

I didn’t hesitate. My hand darted inside the open container beside me, fingers wrapping around the cool metal of an assault rifle. But before I could even pull it up to my shoulder, Zane’s hand shot out, snatching it from my grip like I was nothing more than an inconvenience.

I turned on him, my voice low and sharp over the chaos. “I know how to shoot!”

“Didn’t ask.” His voice was steady, controlled, but his eyes burned as they met mine. “Stay behind me.”

Before I could argue, he shifted, stepping around me with effortless precision. He moved like he’d done this a thousand times before – probably had.

A bullet struck the container behind me. Too close.

Zane didn’t hesitate. He lifted the machine gun, and the moment his finger squeezed the trigger, everything changed.

The deep, vicious sound of gunfire erupted from his weapon, precise and controlled. I barely saw the attackers hidden behind the stacks of shipping containers, but Zane did. He picked them off like it was nothing. A dark silhouette against the glowing city beyond the docks, he was methodical, every movement purposeful.

I moved with him, crossing the open space between the containers and his bulletproof SUV hid behind some other containers.

I barely breathed as I ran – Zane by my side, stepping sideways while he shot at the attackers.

When we reached the car, he immediately dropped a hand from the gun to open my door. “Stay down!” Then the door shut and I was alone in the bullet and sound proof vehicle.

I didn’t stay down.

I watched through the windshield.

One attacker tried to move, but Zane caught him in the crosshairs and dropped him in a single shot. Another ducked behind a crate, but Zane didn’t flinch – he shifted his aim, waited for the perfect second, then fired. The man slumped, unmoving.

He didn’t waste bullets. Didn’t panic. He controlled the fight the way he controlled everything.

And in that moment, I saw it.

The man people whispered about in dark corners. The ghost that entire organizations feared.

For a split second, I forgot about the danger.

I just watched him.

Python.

The Samurai

Not just a fighter. Not just a bodyguard.

A killer.

There was something lethal in the way he moved – something almost beautiful in its precision. The way his muscles flexed under the strain, the way his jaw tensed in perfect focus, the way the city lights caught in the sharp angles of his face.

Zane took the last shot without hesitation. The final attacker crumpled, the silence that followed more deafening than the gunfire.

He exhaled, lowering the rifle, his stance still tense, still alert.

And in that moment, standing there in the glow of the city, powerful and invincible, he was…

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