Can’t Win Me Back

Late at night, the police station office was illuminated only by the eerie glow of a computer screen. It displayed Jameson’s
interview after his bail.
Nicholas, haggard-looking, stared at the screen. An overflowing ashtray sat beside him.
He pursed his lips, his trembling fingers dialing Jameson’s number. To his surprise, it was engaged. Despair clenched his heart
as he gripped the phone tighter.
Nicholas slumped on the couch, his eyes squeezed shut. Throughout his lifetime, he had faced horrors untold, his hands stained
with the blood of many.
Yet, none of it prepared him for the soul-crushing despair that threatened to consume him now. This was the darkest night of his
life.
Four agonizing days passed in this state. Then, one night, his phone rang. It was Natalie’s doctor.
“Mr. Novak, your wife had a sudden episode! She’s unstable. Please come to the hospital immediately!”
“Is she okay?” Nicholas shot up, grabbing his coat and rushing toward the door.
“Mrs. Novak is in the ER. We’ll discuss details when you arrive!”
Nicholas reached for the doorknob as the call ended. He hesitated, feeling the weight of a loaded gun in his pocket. It was a
tempting deterrent, a promise of defense. But using it meant wading into a deeper swamp. Every shot, every bullet casing left
behind, would be another clue for the police to follow, a neon sign pointing straight back to him and his tangled web of secrets
with Jameson.
Cyrus, a rising star in the force, reminded Nicholas of his younger self. Given time, Cyrus would surely uncover their shady
business.
More importantly, he lacked the stomach to defy Jameson; even if he had the courage, he couldn’t afford to do so.
Jameson was a devil who wouldn’t blink at taking a life, and Nicholas had known this partnership was a dance with the reaper
from the outset.
He was aware that his future was bleak. But he had no choice. His wife, his love, needed saving.

He turned back, retrieved a screwdriver from his desk, and hid it behind his back before hurrying out.
Nicholas sped toward the hospital in his black SUV but screeched to a halt in a deserted alley. At the other end, a black vehicle
blocked his path.
Four masked figures in black emerged from the car. Two laid a spiked chain across the ground.
Escape by car was clearly not an option; a single wrong move would leave him stranded with a chorus of popping tires.
Nicholas’ eyes blazed with fury. He gritted his teeth, threw the car into reverse, and slammed on the accelerator.
A deafening crash echoed as his car rammed the vehicle behind him, blocking his escape. The narrow alley had become a cage,
and he was the trapped prey.
Realizing that escape was futile, Nicholas stepped out, scowling at the approaching assassins. He reached behind his back,
gripping the screwdriver tightly. “Chief Novak?” the leader rasped, his tone laced with hostility.
“Mr. Schmidt sent all of you, didn’t he?” Nicholas’ temples throbbed. The question hung heavy in the air, a mere formality.
The situation was dire. Though bailed out, Jameson was now a marked man and Jasper and Alyssa were determined to bring
him down.
Jameson was trapped, a fly caught in a web of enemies. Confronted by imminent danger, his primal survival instinct urged him to
eliminate the threatNicholas. Nicholas understood Jameson’s ruthlessness, but tonight wasn’t the time for him to meet his end.
“Who we work for is irrelevant,” the leader smirked. “We’re aware of your capabilities. That’s why we came to you. We wouldn’t
be here unless we have the guts and muscles to back it up. Cooperate, and your end will be swift.”
“We’ll settle this, but not now,” Nicholas pleaded, his voice laced with urgency.
“My wife’s critically ill. I need to be at the hospital.”
“Such devotion, Chief Novak. It’s a pity our employer wants you dead regardless. Take him down!”
The assassins charged at Nicholas.
This dark, windy, and silent night would be the night of his death. They slashed at Nicholas with their blades, one after another,
but they missed. Amidst the howling wind, the terrifying sounds of punches and kicks echoed.

Nicholas, a seasoned officer, fought with the desperation of a cornered animal.
Age, however, was a cruel mistress slowing his reflexes just enough for a blade to find its mark. A searing pain erupted in his left
arm as a knife sliced deep, bone glinting in the pale light.
Another glint, this time of a blade, hurled right at his face. There was no time to dodge.
But the blade never connected; it hung suspended, inches from his?
eyes. A scream then tore through the nightlas the blade clattered to the ground, followed by a sickening snap of a broken wrist.
There, bathed in the cold moonlight, stood Jasper. He was a mountain of a man, his stance radiating an unshakeable resolve.
Their eyes met, Jasper’s dark and fiery. He extended a hand to help Nicholas up. “Are you alright?”
Nicholas held his breath in awe, his pain momentarily forgotten. At that moment, Jasper resembled an angel who had descended
fiforn the heavens. He exuded an atmosphere of sheer power and intimidation.
“That’s... Jasper Beckett! The Beckett Group’s president!” one of the assassins stammered, his voice laced with shock.
Panic flickered in their eyes. This wasn’t part of the plan.
“We won’t get paid if we don’t finish this!” the leader snarled,” It doesn’t matter whohe is. Kill them both! No one leaves here
alive!”
The assassins, their initial surprise replaced by grim determination, closed the distance.
“Run!” Nicholas roared at Jasper.
But Jasper remained calm, a steely glint in his eyes as he surveyed the scene.
“You’re a cop, and I’m an ex-soldier. It appears we both have a duty tonight.
Let’s prove we don’t back down from evil, officer.”