It had been a few days, but there was still no sign of Axel. Havoc and I had been chasing shadows with no leads to show for it. The guy didn't have any obvious hangouts or connections that we could scope out. It was like he'd vanished into thin air, and that? That made me uneasy… Ghosts like Axel were always the hardest to pin down.
In the meantime, life outside the hunt had been surprisingly… normal. Bluey was on the mend, finally looking like she'd be discharged from the hospital soon. Judo was keeping a vigilant eye on her, practically glued to her side. Lila and I had reconnected properly, chatting almost every day like old times, and Sevyn and I had had a few check-ins. Even Mum and Dad were back in the picture, blissfully unaware of the blood and chaos swirling in the shadows around me. For once, it felt like there was a semblance of peace—or at least the calm before the next storm.
Bingo walked down the sidewalk toward her apartment, dressed in a gray tank top and black jeans, her black sneakers tapping lightly against the pavement. The warm breeze ruffled her short fur, and the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the city streets. It was just another casual day—no missions, no danger, just her in the open air, blending into the world like a regular civilian. Her phone was pressed to her ear, Lila's familiar voice keeping her company as she turned the corner.
"—So that's it?" Bingo asked, her tone incredulous but tinged with amusement. "After all that, you just never heard from the bloke again?"
"Yep," Lila replied with a dry laugh. "Just ghosted me like it was nothing. See? I told you that guy was weird. Honestly, I haven't bothered dating anyone since!"
"Yeah, can't say I blame you," Bingo said, shaking her head as she approached the entrance to her apartment building. "Guy sounds like a bloody waste of time." She chuckled softly, her free hand fishing in her pocket for her keys. "You really know how to pick 'em, don't you?"
"Oi, rude!" Lila shot back, though her playful tone made Bingo grin. "At least I didn't date someone who couldn't hold a conversation longer than five minutes.."
"Touché," Bingo muttered, smirking as she pulled open the front door to her building. "Alright, fine, you win this one! But I'm keeping score."
"Sure you are," Lila teased, her voice warm and familiar. "Anyway, I gotta run, but let's catch up again soon, yeah?"
"Yeah, sounds good. Take care, Lila." Bingo hung up and slipped her phone back into her pocket, a small smile lingering on her face. Even in the chaos of her double life, moments like these—normal conversations, genuine laughs—were the things that kept her grounded. But as she made her way up the stairs to her apartment, the back of her mind was already turning, wondering when the ghost named Axel would show himself again.
Bingo pushed open the door to her apartment, stepping inside with a casual stride—but the moment she crossed the threshold, something felt wrong. The air in the room was heavy, suffocating, and her instincts screamed at her that she wasn't alone.
The fur on the back of her neck stood on end, her body tensing as her eyes darted around the room. She glanced toward the table in her living room and froze. Her files—meticulously organized and always in the same spot—were gone.
I know I keep my files there. Always... Where the hell are they?
Her heart began to pound, the adrenaline flooding her veins. Someone's been here. Someone might still be here.
Her hand instinctively reached into her pocket, gripping the handle of a pocket knife. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. Knife at the ready, she moved cautiously, her breathing steady despite the fear twisting in her gut. Every step was slow, and deliberate. She checked the pantry. Empty. The laundry room. Clear. That left only one place.
Her bedroom door. Closed.
The knot in her stomach tightened. Sweat rolled down the side of her face as she crept forward, each step feeling like an eternity. Her fingers flexed around the knife as she reached the door. Taking a deep breath, she raised her leg and kicked it open.
THUD!
Her eyes widened in shock and fear.
Standing in the center of her bedroom was Pierce, a cruel smirk on his face as he casually held a shotgun. Leaning against the edge of her bed was Axel, flipping through her stolen files like they were light reading. Both were clad in their sleek, dark Black Widow attire, their very presence filling the room with menace.
Pierce's smirk deepened. "Well, well, well. Knives. Or should I say… Bingo Heeler." His voice oozed mockery like he was savoring the sound of her real name.
Her grip tightened on the knife, but before she could even take a step forward—
BOOM!
The shotgun barked, and a searing pain tore through her chest as a round of rock salt slammed into her, sending her flying backward down the hallway. The knife clattered to the floor, useless now, as she hit the ground hard, the wind knocked clean out of her lungs. Her vision blurred as agony radiated through her body, her gray tank top quickly staining red. She gasped for air, her mind racing to process what had just happened.
"F-FUCK!" Bingo managed to choke out, groaning as she clutched her chest. Her whole body screamed in pain, but she forced herself to stay conscious.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway as Pierce sauntered toward her, shotgun slung lazily over his shoulder, whistling a fine tune. He pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, revealing piercing green eyes that stared down at her with cold amusement.
"Bingo Heeler.." he said slowly, savoring her name like it was some private joke. "Huh. A lot less intimidating than Knives, don't you think?" He crouched down, bringing his face close to hers, his smirk dripping with venom. "Don't worry.. I won't tell anyone else your real name.. your secret is safe with me." He chuckled. "You've been busy, haven't you? Tracking us, digging up dirt, killing our men. Someone's been helping you, haven't they? You couldn't have pulled all this off on your own. No way you found Nyx's meeting, no way you caught Archer alone. You've got a partner, don't you?"
Bingo glared at him through the pain, but her silence only seemed to amuse him further.
Pierce chuckled darkly. "You thought you were clever, huh? But patience pays off, sweetheart. It took us some time, but we found you. And now…" He glanced over his shoulder at Axel, who stood silently in the background, his blue eyes smoldering with rage as he held her files.
"What are we gonna do with her?" Axel growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
Pierce didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned in closer to Bingo, his voice dropping to a whisper as his smirk turned into a twisted grin.
"Oh, we're gonna take our time with her," he said, his tone dripping with malice. "First, we strip her of everything she's got. Her pride, her dignity, her fucking ego. We'll break her piece by piece, just like she broke Archer." His grin widened, his green eyes gleaming with cruelty. "And when she's begging for mercy—when she's got nothing left—we'll kill her slow. Real slow."
Axel stepped forward, his fists clenching as he stared down at Bingo. "This is for Archer. And Nyx. You're gonna pay for what you did to them..."
Bingo's breathing remained shallow, but her fiery gaze locked onto Pierce and Axel with unrelenting defiance. The searing pain in her chest threatened to pull her under, her body begging her to surrender—but deep within her, a flicker of rebellion burned, refusing to be extinguished.
"Fuck… the both of you," Bingo spat, her voice ragged but laced with venom.
Pierce let out a low whistle, his smirk widening as he tilted his head. "My word… she's got some bite, doesn't she?" He chuckled, rising to his full height. "I like that fire, Bingo. Really, I do. But… it's such a shame we'll have to snuff it out." His gaze shifted to Axel, and his tone turned icy. "Knock her out."
"With pleasure," Axel growled, stepping forward. Before Bingo could react, his boot collided with her face, sending her world spinning into darkness.
….
"Wakey, wakey, Bingo…"
A muffled voice pierced through the haze in her mind, distant and taunting.
"Hey… I said, get up!"
SPLASH!
"AHH!" Bingo's eyes shot open as cold water hit her like a slap, jolting her awake. She gasped for air, coughing as the icy chill seeped into her fur. Blinking rapidly, she took in her surroundings: the room was dimly lit, shadows dancing across cold concrete walls. A single, flickering bulb hung above her, casting a pale, yellowish light that made the space feel even more oppressive.
She was sitting on the floor, her hands tied tightly behind her back and her legs bound at the ankles. Her damp fur clung to her skin, and her body ached from head to toe. Her grey tank top was still stained with blood, the wound in her chest throbbing painfully with each breath. But what caught her off guard was her state of undress—her pants were gone, leaving her in only her black underwear. Vulnerability crept in, but she shoved it down, focusing instead on her rising anger.
Pierce stood a few feet in front of her, holding an empty bucket and smirking like a predator who'd cornered his prey. "Welcome back, love." he said, his voice sickly sweet with mockery. "You were out for a while—five hours, to be exact. That's quite the little nap you took. Feeling rested?"
Bingo glared at him, her jaw tightening as she tugged at her restraints. "Go to hell."
Pierce ignored her venom, shaking his head with a tsk. "Such language... I'd hoped you'd be more cooperative, but I can see we're going to have to break that spirit of yours the hard way." He gestured around the room with a flourish. "Take a good look, Bingo. This? This is your new home. Hours away from Melbourne. No one's coming for you. No friends. No family. No one. Just me and my buddy Axel."
Bingo's eyes darted to the edges of the room, searching for anything that could help her. The room was barren—no windows, no furniture, just cold cement walls and a locked steel door. The realization hit her like a weight: she was completely isolated.
Pierce crouched down in front of her, leaning in so close she could feel his breath on her face. His smirk deepened, his green eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. "This, darling, is your final resting place. So I suggest you get comfortable!"
Axel stood behind Pierce, arms crossed, a cruel grin stretching across his face. "You know what's funny? You made this so personal, Bingo. Killing Archer like that. It wasn't just business for you, was it? Nah, you wanted to send a message. Well, here's our message: we're going to make you suffer for what you did. Every. single. second."
Bingo's body ached, her mind screamed at her to panic, but she clenched her teeth, narrowing her eyes at the two men. Her fear was real, but she buried it deep. She wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Pierce leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, but the venom in his tone struck like a viper. "By the time we're done with you, there won't be anything left of 'Knives.' Just Bingo Heeler—the broken, scared little girl we'll leave to rot here. That's a promise."
He stood up with an air of cold finality, tossing the bucket aside. The loud clang echoed through the room like a sinister omen. "Now… let's get started, shall we? Hey, Axel?"
"Yeah?" Axel replied, already grinning as he cracked his knuckles.
"Rough her up a bit. Make her remember who she's dealing with." Pierce adjusted his jacket, stepping toward the steel door. "I'll go warm us up some tea. Have a field day with her, mate—do whatever you want. Take an hour. After that? Well…" His grin turned cruel, and his voice dropped. "I'll send the boys in here. They've got some real creative ideas for her, and they'll bring plenty of fun toys to play with."
Pierce chuckled as he opened the door, his shadow lingering in the doorway. "Have fun, you two." He waved casually and disappeared, the door slamming shut behind him with a metallic clang.
Axel turned back to Bingo, his smirk spreading across his face like a predator about to devour its prey. "An hour… just you and me."
Bingo's breathing was labored, her mind racing for an escape, but her body refused to cooperate. Still, she wasn't about to let him see her fear. "Tch… you aren't gonna do shi—"
SMACK!
Axel's backhand struck her face with enough force to snap her head to the side, the sting reverberating across her cheek. A sharp gasp escaped her lips, and she tasted copper as blood filled her mouth.
"Yikes! That looked like it hurt!" Pierce's voice came faintly from the hallway, followed by a muffled laugh. "Keep it up, mate!"
Bingo slumped to the ground, dazed but still defiant. She tried to shift her weight to sit up, but Axel's boot drove into her stomach like a hammer.
"Stupid bitch!" he snarled, grinding his heel into her ribs. She wheezed, her breath knocked out of her, the pain spreading like fire through her torso.
Axel crouched down, his hand roughly grabbing a fistful of Bingo's hair and jerking her head upward, forcing her bloodied face to meet his twisted grin. "You've got guts huh..?" he sneered, his voice dripping with mockery, his grip tightening until her scalp burned. "But guts don't mean shit here, sweetheart."
Before she could muster a response, Axel slammed her head down against the cold concrete floor with a brutal thud, the impact rattling her skull. Her vision blurred, the dimly lit room spinning in sickening circles as she fought to stay present.
"Look at you.." Axel hissed, his voice laced with sadistic satisfaction. "The infamous 'Knives,' reduced to a gasping, bloodied mess. Where's all that fight now, huh?"
He shifted, his large hand wrapping around her throat with crushing force. Bingo's eyes widened as her airway was sealed off, her body instinctively thrashing as she gasped for air. Axel's smirk deepened, his fingers digging into her neck as he watched her struggle with sick amusement.
"You feel that?" he growled, his face inches from hers, his hot breath brushing against her muzzle. "That's the sound of your pride dying! You're helpless, and you know it."
Her thoughts blurred, and her mind teetered on the edge of blackness as her vision began to darken.
I can't… fucking fight back… this is… the worst… Her thoughts were disjointed, desperation clawing at the edges of her consciousness.
Just as the darkness threatened to claim her, Axel released his grip, letting her collapse to the floor with a choking gasp. She wheezed, her lungs burning as she gulped down precious air. The temporary relief was fleeting, however, as Axel loomed over her, cracking his knuckles.
"Don't pass out on me yet," he sneered, crouching down again. "We're just getting started."
His fist slammed into her jaw, snapping her head to the side with a sharp crack. The pain was immediate and searing, radiating through her skull. Before she could recover, another blow came—a vicious slap that left her ears ringing and her cheek stinging.
"You know," Axel chuckled, shaking out his hand like he was enjoying himself. "I thought you'd be tougher. All that talk about how deadly you are, and here you are…bleeding on the floor like a scared little pup."
He grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her face upward again, inspecting his handiwork. Her lip was split, and blood trickled from her nose. But even in her battered state, Bingo's eyes burned with defiance.
"Still got some fight in you?" Axel taunted, gripping her face tighter. "Good…That'll make breaking you all the more satisfying."
Without warning, he drove his knee into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her and doubling her over. Bingo coughed violently, spitting blood onto the floor as her body shuddered in agony.
Axel grabbed a nearby metal pipe leaning against the wall, testing its weight with a grin. "Let's see how much more you can take."
As he raised the pipe, Bingo's mind raced. Her body was screaming at her to give up, to surrender to the pain, but somewhere deep inside, that small flicker of resistance remained. If I get through this… they'll regret ever touching me.
The pipe came down with a sickening thwack against her ribs, and Bingo's body jerked in response. Axel laughed cruelly, savoring her pained cries as he raised the weapon again. "Oh, this is going to be fun!"
For the next hour, Axel unleashed his sadistic rage, beating Bingo relentlessly until her body was a tapestry of bruises, welts, and open wounds. Every punch, kick, and strike landed with calculated cruelty, his strength overpowering her as she lay defenseless on the cold, unforgiving floor. Her breaths came in short, pained gasps, and her vision blurred from blood dripping into her swollen eyes.
But the torment didn't end there. When Axel finally stepped back, his knuckles bloodied and his smirk still firmly in place, Pierce entered the room with five of his men. Each one carried a weapon—a crowbar, a taser, brass knuckles, even a heavy chain. A few came empty-handed, their sole purpose to revel in the carnage.
"Your turn, boys." Pierce said casually, leaning against the doorway. "Don't hold back. She's got a lot to pay for."
Bingo weakly turned her head, her mind screaming at her to fight back, to do something, but her body refused to obey. Her arms and legs were still bound, her strength utterly drained. She tried to steel herself for what was coming, but nothing could prepare her for the hell that followed.
They descended on her like vultures. The first strike came from a crowbar, slamming into her side with a sickening crack, forcing a guttural scream from her throat. A taser followed, electricity surging through her body, her muscles locking in excruciating spasms as her cries echoed through the room. Brass knuckles struck her face repeatedly, splitting her skin and leaving her barely conscious.
Her screams and cries of agony reverberated through the underground lair, reaching the upstairs living room where Pierce and Axel sipped their tea in comfort. The muffled sounds of her suffering were like a symphony to them, each cry a note in their twisted melody.
"You hear that, Axel?" Pierce said with a smirk, swirling his tea. "Music to my ears…."
Axel chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "She's tough, though. She hasn't begged for mercy yet."
"She will," Pierce replied, his eyes glinting with sadistic satisfaction. "They all do eventually."
Hours passed, though to Bingo, it felt like an eternity. By the time the men finished with her, she was left broken and bloodied on the cold stone floor, her body unrecognizable from the beating she had endured. Her face was swollen and caked with dried blood, her shirt was torn and stained crimson, and her ribs ached with every shallow, ragged breath she took. Bruises covered her arms, legs, and torso, and every inch of her screamed in agony.
This… this can't be happening right now.. she thought, her mind a foggy mess of pain and despair. I can't go out like this… not like this…
Her thoughts raced, searching for some spark of hope, some shred of strength to cling to. But in this moment, she felt utterly useless, completely defeated. For the first time, the weight of her vulnerability pressed down on her like an unbearable burden.
As the room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by her labored breathing, Bingo's mind wavered between defiance and hopelessness. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her battered soul, that flicker of resistance still lingered—a whisper of who she was and what she had to fight for.
But for now, all she could do was endure.
…
Four days had passed.
Four long, agonizing days since Bingo had been taken. For every hour of those days, she had endured torment, each moment chipping away at her body and mind until she was little more than a shell of herself. The fire that once burned within her had dwindled to a faint, dying ember.
Now, she lay on the cold, unforgiving floor, her body battered beyond recognition. Bruises and cuts painted her fur, with dried blood crusted around her wounds. Her limbs, once quick and deadly, now felt heavy and useless, bound and broken by the relentless torture. Her face was blank, void of emotion, her wide, empty eyes staring at nothing.
The pain was constant—a dull, suffocating ache that throbbed with every shallow breath she managed to draw. But worse than the physical agony was the creeping numbness in her mind, the hopelessness that had seeped in over the days.
Four days, she thought, the faintest flicker of despair breaking through her haze. Four days, and no one's coming for me...
She hadn't spoken to Bluey in days. She hadn't heard her mum's voice or Lila's laughter. She hadn't thought about Judo in what felt like forever. The people who mattered to her, the ones she wanted to fight for—she hadn't seen or talked to any of them.
Is it really over for me?
Her breathing hitched as that question echoed in her mind. She stared at the ceiling, her body limp and unmoving, her soul crushed under the weight of her captivity.
Look at how pathetic I am, she thought bitterly. I'm nothing. I'm nobody. I can't even break free from these restraints…
Her eyes closed, a tear slipping down her bloodied cheek as self-loathing clawed at her insides. They were right about me, she thought. I'm weak. All I've done, all I've fought for… it doesn't matter. They might as well just kill me.
Her breath was shallow, each one rattling in her chest as the silence of the room pressed in on her. Bingo felt the last fragments of her resolve slipping away, swallowed by the void of despair.
And then, a voice.
"What else will you have whenever you have nothing, Heeler?"
What…?
"You heard me…"
Her eyes fluttered weakly, her mind swimming in confusion. She wasn't sure if she was hallucinating or if her fractured psyche had conjured this voice from the depths of her memory.
And then, it came rushing back—
Two years ago
Snow fell steadily, blanketing the world in a quiet, frozen stillness. Surrounding a campfire in the middle of nowhere sat two figures. One of them was an 18-year-old Bingo Heeler, her breath visible in the frigid air. She was bundled up in a puffy dark blue jacket, thick black pants, tan boots, and fuzzy winter gloves. Despite her layers, she shivered violently, huddling as close to the fire as she could without burning herself.
The other figure, sitting across from her, was a tall, elegant Borzoi with pristine white fur and piercing dark purple eyes. Her presence was commanding yet calm, her thick Russian accent cutting through the cold like a blade. She wore a grey puffy jacket, black pants, and sturdy black boots. Unlike Bingo, she wasn't shivering—she was unnervingly still, as if the cold couldn't touch her.
"Answer the question, Heeler." the Borzoi said, her tone firm but not unkind. "What will you have when you have nothing? No family. No friends. No support. When everything is taken from you—what will you have?"
Bingo stared at the fire, its warmth doing little to ease the chill that gnawed at her bones. The question sat heavily in the air, and for a moment, she hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Finally, she murmured, "..Myself?"
"Wrong."
The Borzoi's reply was immediate and sharp, her tone cutting through the crackling of the fire. "You'll have that killer instinct. That… survival." She leaned forward slightly, her intense gaze locked onto Bingo. "You are not like other killers, Heeler. I've seen it in your eyes—the way you fight, the way you move. There's something… mechanical within you. Something ruthless. It is what will set you apart... What will keep you alive when others fall."
Bingo shivered, though it wasn't just from the cold this time. Her mind raced, trying to process the weight of the Borzoi's words. She felt small, vulnerable, and uncertain, but beneath that uncertainty, something flickered. She wasn't sure if it was hope or something darker, but it was there.
The woman, Sabre, watched Bingo quietly for a moment before speaking again, her voice softer, but no less resolute. "It will come out in dire situations, whether you want it to or not. That instinct—that is what you will have when everything else is gone. And that is what will make you survive."
Bingo glanced at her, brows furrowed. "…Is this supposed to be encouraging me, Miss Sabre?"
Sabre's gaze flicked over to her, sharp as a blade, but there was no malice in her expression—just a cool, calculated calm. She let out a short, dry laugh and tossed another log into the fire, the flames crackling higher.
"Encouraging? Kid, you'll figure it out when it matters. You're not supposed to understand it now." Sabre leaned back, stretching her legs out as she watched the fire. "You'll look back on this someday, when you're in the thick of it… and realize just how right I was."
Bingo's lips tightened, a small knot of doubt forming in her stomach, but the fire's warmth seemed to press against her, pushing against the coldness of her thoughts. Sabre had never been one to coddle her—she didn't need to. But Bingo couldn't shake the feeling that this conversation would linger long after the snow had melted and the cold had passed.
Present day
The memory faded as quickly as it came, the Borzoi's words echoing in Bingo's mind like a haunting refrain. Her breath hitched as she stared blankly at the ceiling, her battered body unmoving.
"That instinct—that is what you will have when everything else is gone. And that is what will make you survive."
Her heart thudded weakly in her chest. She wanted to deny it, to give in, to let the darkness take her—but those words wouldn't leave her. The Borzoi's voice, the fire in her gaze, the conviction in her tone—it all clawed at something deep inside her.
Her fingers twitched faintly against the cold stone floor. Something mechanical, something primal, stirred within her. It wasn't hope. It wasn't strength. It was raw, unrelenting instinct.
And then, the whisper came—a single word, haunting and steady: Survive.
Bingo's face remained impassive, a blank mask of resolve. The pain coursing through her body, the fear gnawing at her insides—she ignored it all. She shut it out, locked it away. Everything, every ounce of her being, was pushed into a place of cold calculation. The world around her dissolved, leaving only a singular focus: survival.
She moved slowly, deliberately, her muscles aching with each shift. Her hands were still bound, but she had the tools. One of her claws, sharp and glinting faintly in the dim light, was pressed against the rope that held her wrists. With an almost mechanical precision, she began sawing at the thick, coarse fibers, the fraying rope squeaking against her claw with each slow, steady motion.
It would take hours. It doesn't matter.
Her eyes, dull but determined, never wavered from the task at hand. The pain in her arms, the weakness in her limbs—it was all irrelevant. She could endure this. She had to.
She could feel the faintest slivers of the rope begin to fray, each fiber yielding to the relentless rhythm of her claw. Bingo's breathing, shallow and controlled, was the only sound in the room aside from the rasp of the rope.
For the first time in days, Bingo's mind sharpened, focused on one thing: the inevitable moment when the last strand would snap, when she would break free. The next phase would be hers.
All this little killer of a red heeler needed.. was time.