One year later.
The prison warden watched Marco from behind glass.
Solitary. No visitors. No correspondence.
He never spoke to guards. Never asked for anything.
Just sat there. Waiting.
“They say he was her number two,” one junior officer whispered.
The warden didn’t answer.
Because he’d seen what Marco did on his first day.
Four men — all ex-Krane crew — tried to earn stripes by jumping him in the yard.
Marco broke one’s jaw. Crushed another’s hand. Didn’t say a word.
He didn’t fight to survive.
He fought like a man who knew he wasn’t staying here long.
In a private estate on the outskirts of Marseille, a man named Harrington poured himself a scotch.
He was clean. Wealthy. Had contracts with five governments.
Publicly, he was a humanitarian investor.
Privately?
He was one of the architects of Bullseye Protocol — the operation designed to control crime through selective chaos.
And Eve’s empire had been the prototype that got too powerful.
“We ended her,” he said to the man across from him.
The man smiled without smiling.
“Then why did Strauss’s family vanish last week?”
Harrington froze.
The lights flickered.
And outside, for just a moment, a shadow moved past the window.
Nathan sat in an unmarked van in Berlin, feeding coordinates into a network no one had touched in a decade.
Eve had reactivated something old. Something buried beneath the digital rot.
Not just a cartel.
Not just a revenge tour.
A system.
She’d built her empire once. Now, she was weaponizing it.
And Nathan — who used to hunt her — now delivered her enemies.
“First name?” he asked.
The voice on the other end said, “Asha.”
Marco’s sister.
The one he’d traded everything to find.
In a monastery in the Swiss Alps, a woman sat at a wooden desk.
Grey hoodie. Faint scar along her jaw.
Her face had changed, but her eyes hadn’t.
In front of her, a chessboard.
The black king lay tipped.
She set it upright.
Then moved the white queen forward.
The game had never ended.
It had just… changed hands.
And Eve — the ghost, the myth, the queen — was no longer running.
She was hunting.
Baawa Unfiltered 