The alley was too quiet.
Rain still poured, but even the storm seemed to hold its breath.
Elara stood frozen, inches from Marcus's lifeless body. Blood spread in dark tendrils around her shoes, diluted by the downpour.
Damien didn't move.
Not yet.
Not until he was sure the sniper was gone.
His eyes swept the rooftops—nothing but shadow and silence. Then finally, he turned to her.
"Elara…"
She looked up. Her eyes were glass—red-rimmed, wet, burning.
"You killed my brother," she whispered.
It wasn't a question anymore.
Damien's throat tightened. "It's not what you think."
"Then tell me what it is!" she snapped, voice cracking like thunder. "Tell me why Nathan came home that night—shaking, paranoid—why a week later, he was dead!"
Damien closed his eyes for a moment.
Then the truth spilled like poison.
"Because he found out who I was."
She flinched.
"He dug into something too deep. He discovered my name. My mission. My code. Nyx."
Elara stepped back, as if the name physically struck her.
"And you just—what? Executed him?" Her scream pierced the alley.
"No!" Damien's voice roared back, raw and ragged. "I confronted him. We argued. He pulled a gun—there was shouting, confusion, chaos—"
"But he's dead. And you're not."
Her voice had turned cold. Final.
Damien didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
---
30 Minutes Later – Damien's Safehouse
The rain still pounded the city outside, but the room was quiet, insulated, sterile. Shadows curled along the corners of the sleek interior like ghosts refusing to leave.
Elara sat on the edge of a leather couch, knees pulled up, her wet hair clinging to her skin. She stared at the floor as if trying to find answers written in the grain.
Across the room, Damien poured whiskey into two glasses—but left both untouched.
"I'm not your enemy," he said softly.
Elara didn't look at him. "You sure about that?"
He sat across from her. His tone never wavered.
"I never wanted any of this. Your brother… he was brave. But he thought this was a story he could control. He didn't understand the war I was in."
"And you think I do?"
Damien reached into a drawer and pulled out a USB drive. He held it out to her.
She stared at it like it was a weapon.
"What's this?"
"The truth. About me. About Nathan. About Marcus—and the man who sent him."
She didn't reach for it.
"Why now?" she asked. "Why give me this now, when it's already too late?"
His eyes darkened.
"Because someone else knows."
Elara's stomach turned.
"The sniper?"
"I don't know who he is yet," Damien said, voice low. "But he used a Czech Viper-9. Custom silencer. There are only five men alive who can shoot like that."
"And?"
Damien leaned forward.
"One of them was declared dead… three years ago."
---
Elsewhere – Unknown Location
The room buzzed with static and quiet menace.
Twelve monitors glowed in the dark, each showing a different angle of the Ravenport alley—Damien, Elara, Marcus. All of it. Watched. Recorded.
In front of the screens sat a shadow draped in black, their face hidden beneath a hood.
A gloved hand reached out, gently stroking the corner of an old photograph—burned at the edges.
It was Damien Blackwood.
Much younger. Blood on his hands.
A ghost in flesh.
The figure leaned forward, voice cold and laced with anticipation.
"Tick-tock, Nyx…"
"It's time to drag the ghost into the light."
---
To be continued…
---