When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 54: A Score to Settle

Chapter 54: A Score to Settle

Kant moved deeper through the hotel basement, keeping his steps light. He followed the faint shuffle of the scarred man’s footsteps with laser focus.

Hunter slipped in a few moments after him, holding his tongue despite having a lot to say.

Just as Kant was moving further down the hall, his phone gave a quiet ding. He mentally cursed and slipped behind a corner.

He forgot to silence his phone? A few more petty mistakes like this, and he’d be leaving this place escorted by a grim reaper.

Kant quickly pulled out his phone and silenced it, glancing briefly at the screen. It was a text from Gabriel.

(Hale’s back, just so you know. Can you send me your grandma’s address?) 6:17 AM

The message made Kant realize he never sent a response to all those messages. It had completely slipped his mind.

The harsh click of a gun being cocked behind him snapped him out of it.

Kant dropped his phone, letting it clatter to the floor as he whirled around.

The scarred man stood there, gun aimed steadily at his chest, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Thought you could sneak up on me, didn’t you?"

With a swift swipe, Kant’s karambit hooked the barrel of the gun, knocking it out of his hand.

The man staggered back, caught off guard by the sudden aggression. Kant didn’t wait for him to recover. He lunged forward, aiming for the shoulder.

Hunter emerged from behind the corner, and casually picked up the gun. He kept an eye on Kant, who was cornering the scarred man with a cold, narrowed gaze, his breath coming in soft, controlled puffs.

"Huh. This is getting interesting." Hunter leaned against the nearby wall, crossing his arms to watch the fight.

The scarred man’s eyes darted from Hunter to Kant, a shadow of familiarity flashing across his face. "Wait, I’ve seen you before. At the bar," he sneered, shifting his stance. "Yeah, I remember. You were watching us."

"That’s it?" Kant gritted out, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip.

The scarred man lunged, fists swinging. Kant sidestepped, his karambit slicing down in a tight arc. The blade nicked the man’s forearm, drawing a thin line of blood.

"You don’t remember shit," Kant muttered.

The scarred man cursed, clutching his arm as he took a step back. He grabbed for his backup weapon—a long, sleek dagger from his belt.

As soon as he drew it, Kant hooked the karambit around the dagger’s hilt and twisted his wrist, forcing it from the scarred man’s grip.

"Clumsy bastard," Kant spat, stepping in close.

The scarred man’s face twisted in frustration. "What?" The curve of karambit slid against his ribs, trapping his arm as Kant hooked the blade up, pressing it into his shoulder.

"You should’ve trained more."

A flash of panic appeared in the scarred man’s eyes as he struggled to wrench himself free.

With a sharp tug, Kant pulled the karambit’s hook across the man’s shoulder, deepening the wound and forcing a hiss of pain from his lips. "This your first time fighting?"

The scarred man’s face was finally struck with recognition. "You—"

Kant quickly twisted, driving the blade into the man’s leg, just above the knee. He collapsed onto one leg, his strength fading under the pressure of pain.

"Stand up." Kant spun the blade, switching the grip to drag it across the wall.

A nasty, scraping sound echoed through the hallway as he passed the man, stopping right behind his back. "Oh, does it hurt too much? Can’t stand?"

Kant slipped his arm around the scarred man’s neck and pressed the karambit to his throat. The man stiffened, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

"You think you got me?" Wicked eyes glared up at Kant. "My boys will be here any second. You walked into a trap again."

As Kant tightened his grip, hate boiling in his veins, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. A few men, armed with bats and knives, lined up at the end of the hall, blocking the way.

"Y’all sure work slow here." Hunter pushed off the wall, drawing the pistol with a lazy flick.

The scarred man’s grin widened, confidence shining in his eyes. "History’s repeating itself," he taunted Kant. "Your other friend will die too."

Kant looked at Hunter, and almost laughed. "Keep dreaming." He cast a quick glance at the group of men to count how many there were, and an awfully familiar face stood out. The barman.

Hunter caught on as well, stepping forth. "Now that’s convenient."

One of the men lunged at him with a bat. Hunter grabbed the bat mid-swing, and yanked it out of the guy’s hands with brutal force. The guy barely had time to react before Hunter slammed his elbow into his face, sending him crashing to the ground.

"Weak. I don’t even feel like wasting any bullets on this circus." Hunter hoisted the gun and grabbed a second attacker by the throat. He threw him into the wall, knocking the wind out of him.

Two men charged at Kant, and he was forced to let go of the scarred man to defend himself.

The karambit glinted in the dim light as Kant swept it in a wide arc, catching one of the men across the forearm.

"Don’t let them get past!" someone shouted, and the men surged forward, weapons raised.

Kant ducked low, dodging a swing from a bat. He retaliated with a swift upward strike, slicing across the man’s abdomen. Blood splattered, and the man dropped to the floor with a grunt.

The sharp stench of sweat, followed by the metallic whiff of blood filled the hallway.

Kant spotted the scarred man dragging his leg away, and zeroed in on catching him, moving with tunnel-vision.

Meanwhile, Hunter was still trying to get to the barman, who paled under his glare, stumbling back and away.

"Hey!" Hunter called after Kant. "Get the barman!" He avoided a wild punch and brought his knee up sharply into the man’s gut.

As the man doubled over, Hunter swept his leg out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. He tried to get past the rest of the men, but there were too many, and Kant was off chasing the useless bastard.

"Fuck, does he not hear me?"