I caught the slightest whiff of leather conditioner. My training took over: I jumped to the side without even thinking, barely avoiding the bullwhip’s supersonic strike. It echoed in the dim and silent hallway.

I landed like a cat, my heart racing, my eyes taking in every tactical detail, my hands clutching the expandable batons.

I scowled at the intruder. “Sharyo… I knew we’d meet again.”

He smirked, pacing toward me. The two pairs of handcuffs on his belt gleamed in fluorescent light.

“Subject 119B. I’ve spent nineteen years searching the world for you.”