SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 348: Under Siege

My breathing was still heavy and irregular when I heard rapid footsteps approaching from the living room. The familiar voices of concern reached me before I could see their faces, and suddenly Alexis was kneeling beside me while the others clustered around with expressions of alarm and confusion.

"Rey, what happened?" Alexis demanded, her medical training immediately taking over as she checked me for visible injuries. "You look like you’ve been running for your life."

"Because I have been," I managed, accepting Evelyn’s offered hand to help me stand. My legs felt steadier than they had moments before, the physical effects of Superior Endurance already compensating for the exertion, but the emotional aftermath was proving harder to shake.

"Running from what?" Sienna asked, her demolition expertise making her naturally attuned to signs of violence and danger.

"Shooters. Professional ones. Black van, multiple weapons, coordinated pursuit." I moved toward the living room windows, my hands already reaching for the blind controls. "We need to close these. All of them. Right now."

The urgency in my voice galvanized them into action. Without asking for further explanation, they spread out through the penthouse, systematically closing every blind, curtain, and covering that could provide visual access from outside. Within minutes, the entire space was sealed off from external observation, the afternoon light replaced by the warm glow of interior lighting.

"Better," I said, finally allowing myself to sink into one of the armchairs. "At least now we can’t be targeted through the windows."

"Targeted?" Camille’s voice was higher than usual, the implications of what I’d said clearly hitting her. "Someone was actually shooting at you? In public?"

Before I could answer, the television in the living room chimed with the distinctive alert tone that indicated breaking news. We all turned toward the screen as the familiar face of a network anchor appeared, her expression carrying the gravity that came with reporting major incidents.

"We’re getting reports of what appears to have been an assassination attempt on Reynard Vale, the recently endorsed international political figure, in downtown earlier this evening. Cell phone footage shows Mr. Vale running through city streets while being pursued by individuals firing weapons from a moving vehicle."

The screen cut to shaky phone camera footage that showed exactly what the anchor had described—me sprinting between parked cars while bullets shattered windows around me. The image quality was poor, but the gunfire was clearly audible.

"Holy shit," I heard Sienna whisper. "That’s actually you."

The footage continued, showing my zigzag pattern through the streets, the black van in pursuit, and the sound of multiple weapons being fired rapidly. Whoever had captured this on their phone had been far enough away to avoid immediate danger but close enough to record the incident with damning clarity.

"An assassination attempt on such a prominent figure is both shocking and, unfortunately, not entirely unexpected given Vale’s recent international endorsement and stated goals of challenging established global power structures," the anchor continued. "We’re told that he reached safety at his residence, but the perpetrators escaped and remain at large."

My phone started ringing before the news segment finished. Anthony’s name appeared on the screen, and I answered immediately.

"Boss, are you okay?" His voice carried some kind of tension.

"I’m alive and uninjured," I replied, though even saying it out loud didn’t seem to reduce the lingering sense of vulnerability. "Shaken up, but physically fine."

"Good. That’s good. Listen to me carefully—do not leave that building. Do not go anywhere, do not meet with anyone, do not make any public appearances until we can figure out what the hell just happened and who was behind it."

"Understood."

"I’m already coordinating with building security to increase protection around your floor. We’re also reaching out to law enforcement, though given the international implications, this is probably going to involve multiple agencies." Anthony paused, and I could hear him typing rapidly in the background. "Do you have any idea who might have ordered this? Any suspects, any recent threats, anything that might point us toward whoever was responsible?"

I leaned back in the chair, thinking through the possibilities while the others watched me with expressions ranging from concern to barely controlled panic. The timing was the most obvious clue, but it also raised more questions than it answered.

"It happened less than an hour after I finished meeting with Mark," I said carefully. "But I don’t think he set this up."

"Mark? As in Subject 3834? What the hell were you meeting with him for?" 𝒇𝒓𝙚𝒆𝔀𝓮𝓫𝒏𝓸𝙫𝓮𝓵.𝓬𝙤𝙢

"He reached out asking to talk. Said it was important. We met at a restaurant, had an unpleasant conversation about political philosophy and strategic approaches, and he left angry but not homicidal." I rubbed my forehead, trying to organize my thoughts. "The timing is suspicious, but Mark fundamentally sees me as being on the same side, even if he disagrees with my methods. Setting up an assassination attempt a couple hours after a bad meeting just isn’t his style."

"Plus he wouldn’t have had time to organize something this professional on such short notice," Anthony agreed. "Professional hitters with coordinated vehicles and multiple weapons? That takes planning and resources."

"Exactly. Which means either they were targeting Mark and happened to see me, or they were after me from the beginning and used the meeting as an opportunity."

"And either possibility leads to some concerning conclusions."

I nodded, even though Anthony couldn’t see it. "If they were after Mark, it suggests government involvement. Someone with the resources to track his movements and coordinate elimination operations. Given his history and the kinds of people he’s been dealing with, that could connect back to NovaCore or related organizations."

"And if they were targeting you specifically?"

"Then we’re looking at either a world leader who opposed the Geneva endorsement, or someone with enough resources and motivation to organize international assassination attempts." The weight of that realization settled over me again. "Either way, this isn’t just criminal activity. This is political elimination at the highest levels."

Anthony was quiet for a moment, and I could practically hear him running through the same analysis I’d just completed. "We need to assume the worst-case scenario. Someone with significant resources and international reach has decided you’re enough of a threat to justify lethal action."

"That’s what I was thinking."

"Which means everyone associated with you is potentially at risk. Your household, your allies, anyone who’s publicly supported the Geneva endorsement." His voice carried the grim weight of someone who’d just realized how much the stakes had escalated. "This changes everything, Boss."

I looked around at the four women who’d chosen to build their lives around supporting my goals, who’d committed themselves to a vision of change that apparently someone was willing to kill to prevent. The thought that my choices might have put them in danger was almost more overwhelming than the immediate fear for my own safety.

"I know," I said quietly.

"I’m going to coordinate with security and law enforcement, see what we can learn about the attackers and their methods. In the meantime, stay put, stay safe, and don’t take any unnecessary risks. We’ll figure out how to handle this, but right now the priority is keeping you alive."

"Understood. Thanks, Anthony."

"Thank me by not getting shot. I’ll call you with updates as soon as I have them."

The line went dead, leaving me sitting in the artificially darkened penthouse while the news continued to play footage of my desperate flight through the city streets. The others were still watching me, waiting for some kind of explanation or reassurance that I wasn’t sure I could provide.

"So," Alexis said finally, her medical training helping her maintain composure even in crisis situations. "Someone just tried to kill you, and we have no idea who or why."

"We have some ideas," I corrected. "Just not enough information to narrow down the specific threat."

"But you think it’s connected to Geneva? To the political work you’ve been doing?"

I nodded. "Has to be. The timing, the resources involved, the professional execution—this isn’t random crime. Someone made a calculated decision that I needed to be eliminated."

Evelyn moved to sit on the arm of my chair, her empathic abilities probably picking up the emotional turmoil I was trying to suppress. "What does this mean for all of us? Are we safe here?"

"I don’t know," I admitted. "Building security is good, but if someone has the resources to organize professional assassination attempts, they might have other capabilities as well."

"We could leave," Camille suggested, though her voice carried more uncertainty than conviction. "Go somewhere else, somewhere they wouldn’t expect to find us."

"Running might just make us easier targets," Sienna pointed out. "At least here we have security, reinforced construction, and limited access points."

They were all trying to problem-solve, trying to find rational responses to an irrational situation. But as I listened to them discuss contingencies and security measures, I felt something unexpected happening.

A single tear rolled down my cheek.

I reached up to wipe it away, confused by the physical response. This wasn’t grief or overwhelming fear—I’d processed those emotions already. This was something else, something I couldn’t immediately identify or understand.

"Rey?" Evelyn’s voice was soft, concerned. "Are you okay?"

I looked at my fingers, still damp from the tear I’d wiped away, trying to understand what I was feeling. The physical reaction seemed disconnected from my conscious emotional state, as if some part of me was responding to the situation in ways that my rational mind hadn’t anticipated.

"I’m not sure," I said honestly, staring at the moisture on my fingertips. "I’m not sure at all."