The Hunted Assassin Read Online Free PDF

distance, just around the corner of the center cluster of units, he saw a shadow move briefly. Jaxon raised his MP-96 once again and fired two shots in that direction. The first shot went wide, but the second entered the killer’s right eye socket, blasting blood and brain matter outward.
    Jaxon inched forward, about half the distance to the edge of the balcony above, and pointed his weapon up. Then, he took another half step forward and saw the face of the assassin staring back. Before the man above could withdraw, Jaxon squeezed the trigger, obliterating the forehead of the killer.
    “One more,” Jaxon said as he expertly reloaded his rifle. He knew the final assailant—hoped the final assailant—was to the left and behind a refuse bin. Jaxon took two steps to the right and then reentered the open courtyard, his weapon held steady in front of him. With his stance low to the ground, Jaxon continued walking in that direction. When he reached the middle of the open courtyard, several flashes of light came from the killer’s direction as his semi-automatic assault rifle launched several rounds toward him. Jaxon dropped to the ground but not before returning fire, taking out the final assassin with ease.
    Jaxon ran to the last fallen body and kicked his weapon out of his hand. He was still breathing but just barely.
    “Who sent you?” Jaxon demanded.
    There was no response, his eyes quickly losing signs of life.
    “How many more are there?” Jaxon asked. “Give me something useful, and I might let you live.”
    Again, no response. The killer took his last breath, his eyes settling into a sightless gaze.
    “Dammit,” Jaxon shouted. He holstered his MP-96 and raced toward his apartment. He was still several meters away when he heard the familiar clank and wine of the timeworn elevator come to a halt just to his right. Jaxon sprinted in between the garbage chute and a public recharge station and ducked out of sight.
    The doors parted, but nobody got off the lift. Not at first. A cylindrical object flew out of the elevator door and landed near the middle of the courtyard. Moments later it began to spew a green-tinted fog.
    Jaxon instantly recognized the smokescreen grenade and cursed beneath his breath. He was close, but wasn’t going to get in without a fight. If he could just get inside his flat, he’d have everything he needed to hold off virtually any opposing force that came at him. He leaned out briefly to see his apartment door creak open. He realized at that moment that there would be no gaining access to the place he called home ever again.
    He slinked back into his hiding space and quickly drummed up a new plan. The stairwell entrance was just a few meters to his left, and with the right distraction, he thought he could make it. Once inside, he’d expand on his plan of escape.
    Without hesitation, Jaxon emptied all five grenades from the launcher at various positions throughout the habitation quad. The last shot he fired directly at the closing doors of the elevator, where the majority of the killers still stood. He could just make out the faint silhouettes through the fog. As each grenade began to detonate in rapid succession, Jaxon bolted from his hiding place and ran toward the park bench to reclaim his satchel. As he scooped it up from the ground, he saw three assailants lying awkwardly on the ground, decimated by the grenade blasts. There were two more fleeting through the fog, toward his apartment door.
    Great, Jaxon thought. Out of sight—out of mind. They didn’t even see him as he barreled into the exit stairwell.
    ---
    Jaxon began taking the stairs two steps at a time as he reloaded his MP-96 and extra clip before slipping it back into his holster. As he ascended the stairwell, his mind replayed the events of his last few hours. He could not comprehend how he’d been able to live in secrecy for eight long years, then suddenly, have a whole team of assassins show up at his doorstep. They knew