Chapter 186: Chapter 186- Two side
Nia staggered back, her dagger hanging loosely at her side. Sweat drenched her brow, her breathing ragged. For a heartbeat, she looked defeated, her knees almost buckling.
Belle narrowed her eyes, gun raised but finger steady on the trigger. Her instincts screamed trap, but the hunter’s thrill of an easy kill gnawed at her composure.
"Already done?" Belle’s tone was cold, but her voice carried a hint of anticipation.
Nia lifted her gaze, eyes hazy as though her focus was slipping. "Maybe..." she whispered. She dropped her dagger, letting it clatter against the ground. Her shoulders slumped, posture collapsing like someone finally breaking under the strain.
Belle allowed herself a thin, sharp smile. She leveled the barrel at Nia’s heart, exhaling slowly, aligning the shot.
But the instant Belle’s focus locked, Nia’s lips curled into the faintest smirk.
Her figure flickered.
Belle fired. The bullet tore through Nia’s afterimage, scattering motes of light.
"Damn it—" Belle snapped, too late.
Nia reappeared behind her, dagger already back in hand, she had blinked the moment she dropped the weapon, masking her skill use in the sound and distraction. Her blade pressed cold against Belle’s neck, her voice low and trembling with exhaustion, but steady in conviction.
"You thought I was the prey?" Nia’s breath was hot against her ear. "Then maybe you’ve forgotten how fast prey can turn into the hunter."
Belle froze, muscles taut, her finger still hovering over the trigger. The tension between them was razor-thin, one heartbeat away from blood spilling.
Nia’s dagger pressed against Belle’s throat, a whisper away from cutting skin. For a moment, the tide felt completely turned. Nia’s chest heaved with exhaustion, but her eyes gleamed with the thrill of finally having the upper hand.
Belle’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. More like... amusement.
"You think you’ve won?" she murmured, almost teasing.
Nia’s grip tightened, jaw clenched. "One twitch, and you’re done."
But Belle didn’t flinch. Her finger was still near the trigger, but not aiming forward anymore. Instead, Nia felt a strange vibration under Belle’s sleeve. A subtle click.
’What—?’
Suddenly, a hidden mechanism on Belle’s gauntlet snapped open, revealing a compact, spring-loaded pistol no larger than a palm, pointed backward. The muzzle was aligned perfectly with where Nia stood.
Belle tilted her head slightly, her calm voice cutting through the tension.
"Headshot doesn’t always need a rifle."
Nia’s eyes widened. Her instincts screamed to blink away, but at this range, even a fraction of a second could be fatal.
The stalemate flipped in an instant, Nia holding a blade at Belle’s throat, Belle holding a hidden gun aimed at Nia’s chest.
Both women stood frozen, sweat dripping, breaths sharp and shallow.
"Shall we," Belle said softly, her voice like ice, "see who blinks first?"
Time slowed.
Nia’s dagger pressed harder against Belle’s throat, just as Belle’s hidden pistol hummed, trigger pulled. Their eyes locked, defiance against defiance.
Bang!
Clang!
A thunderous crack filled the chamber as sparks erupted. Belle had twisted her wrist at the very last second, deflecting Nia’s dagger with the barrel of her sidearm while firing. The bullet whizzed past Nia’s cheek, grazing skin but missing the kill shot.
At the same time, Nia blinked, just a heartbeat late. Instead of vanishing cleanly, she reappeared half a step away, off-balance. Her blade still sliced, shallow but sharp, leaving a red line along Belle’s collarbone.
Both staggered back, panting, the air charged with gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood.
Belle wiped the streak of crimson with her thumb, eyes narrowing.
"You’re faster than I thought."
Nia’s chest rose and fell, her fingers trembling slightly on the dagger’s hilt. "And you... missed."
Belle smirked faintly, tilting her gun. "I never miss. That was a warning."
The words hung in the air like venom, but both of them knew the truth, neither had landed the decisive blow. Stamina waning, nerves fraying, yet neither willing to yield.
Then, as if on cue, both lunged forward again, Nia’s blink flickering like a ghost, Belle’s muzzle flaring with relentless fire.
The clash of steel and gunfire echoed in the supply chamber. Belle fired again, each bullet snapping through the air like a viper’s strike. Nia blinked, vanishing and reappearing a heartbeat away, her dagger grazing Belle’s arm as she closed the distance. Sparks flew as metal met metal, the gun’s barrel locking against the dagger’s edge.
Nia leaned in close, her lips curling into a cruel smile.
"Tell me, Belle... has Kevin finally told you? That he likes you?"
Belle’s breath hitched. For the briefest second, her focus wavered.
Nia laughed under her breath, twisting her dagger with a feint before blinking behind Belle. "Oh, you didn’t know? He looks at you the same way he looked at me. Always chasing and... always desperate for attention."
Belle spun on instinct, firing a round that ricocheted off a steel beam. She turned her head sharply, refusing to show the sting in her chest.
"You—" Nia pressed again, her dagger swiping close enough to catch Belle’s sleeve. "You think you’re special? He once begged for my attention, too. Do you know how pathetic it was?"
Belle’s jaw clenched, her silence betraying the storm within.
"Oh? Speechless now?" Nia taunted, blinking forward to slash. Belle barely blocked, her pistol kicking back as she shot at point-blank. Nia twisted away, a strand of her hair singed by the bullet’s heat.
Nia’s voice turned venomous. "You’re nothing but his next distraction."
Belle’s gun trembled in her grip. For a moment, her eyes fell. The weight of Nia’s words pressed harder than the fight itself.
But then, her voice came, low but firm.
"Don’t... talk like that. Not about someone who saved you."
Nia faltered, just a fraction, at the steel in Belle’s tone.
Belle raised her pistol again, eyes blazing. "You don’t get to soil his name. Not when you owe your life to him."
They clashed again, bullets sparking against steel, gunfire and blink slashes weaving together like a deadly dance, the argument bleeding into every strike.