Neva's eyes meet Rhett's for a brief moment—his gaze shadowed with remorse.
She draws herself upright, shoulders stiffening beneath the quiet pressure of every gaze in the room.
Turning to the Agents, she says, voice soft but steady, "I was wondering if you'd like something to drink."
"We're fine, but thank you," Sky replies with a gentle smile.
Neva nods, forcing a faint smile. "Call me if you need anything," she says, her eyes lingering on Rhett.
Rhett exhales softly, his nod slow. "Sure."
Without another word, she turns and slips into the hallway, her footsteps swallowed by the quiet.
"Tch," Knight scoffs. "Does she even understand the word privacy? 'Would we like a drink?' What does she think this is—a kitty party?"
"What is wrong with you?" Sky says, frowning at him, voice edged with quiet reproach. "She was just being kind."
Knight scoffs, eyes shifting away. "Kind, my ass," he mutters, fingers drumming rhythmically on his thigh. He leans back, face blank—as though none of this matters.
"You don't have to be so rude, brother," Agent Jack says, his voice calm and easy.
Knight scowls. "Shut up—"
"Get out," Rhett cuts in, fists clenched, his voice dangerously low—controlled.
Knight raises a brow at him, questioning.
The Agents feel it—the shift in the air.
Colder. Sharper.
An eerie stillness wraps around Rhett like a storm about to break.
The cold-blooded Agent Czar they know begins to surface—a shift that braces their muscles beneath calm expressions.
One wrong move—and the situation could spiral in an instant.
"Aw, did I bruise the mighty Agent Czar's ego—over a woman?" Knight sneers, mock sympathy dripping from his voice, a twisted smirk tugging at his lips.
Rhett clenches his jaw, fists coiled so tight his arms tremble. "That woman you're ridiculing is my wife—the mother of my son." His chest rumbles with the low growl of quiet rage—on the edge of detonation.
Unblinking. Unflinching.
"Finish what you came for," Rhett seethes through gritted teeth, "and get the hell out of my house."
Knight scoffs, the sting of ridicule flashing in his eyes as he turns away—a surge of unease crawling under his skin.
"You can have the rest.
Jack and I will stay back," Sky says, sighing—wearied by Knight's stubbornness.
"Fucking ridiculous," Knight mutters under his breath.
"She gets VIP treatment now? You and the boys are coming back with me. Let her keep Czar and Ace—Elk said two, not four."
He lunges in the flash of a second—like a crack of lightning.
The coffee table scrapes against the floor.
The air shifts, sharp and electric.
Muscles twitch.
Ace stiffens beside Knight, caught off guard, hand hovering near his sidearm.
Rhett grips Knight's shirt with both fists, dragging him forward—
his eyes black with void, his voice ice over fire.
"Careful, Agent Knight," he says, calm as death, a cold warning in his tone.
"They might all walk away with nothing—nothing but your flesh, grounded into ash."
A flash of fear flickers in Knight's eyes—quick, unguarded—before he buries it beneath a scowl and tight jaw.
"Boss," Ace says, quiet, unemotional.
"He's not worth the time and energy, Czar. Let him go," Sky adds, leaning back with her arms crossed, face unreadable—stoic to the core.
Knight matches Rhett's glare with stubborn intensity, unmoving.
But the twitch in his throat as he swallows betrays him—fear flickering beneath the façade.
Rhett grits his teeth.
From the room beyond, the cheerful voices of children rise—a fragile sound slicing through the charged silence, tethering him just enough to hold the storm at bay.
He lets Knight go with a sharp jerk.
Knight exhales faintly—shaky.
His fingers tremble as he adjusts his collar, trying to mask it.
Rhett steps back, spine straightening.
He breathes in deep, loosening the knot of tension—but fury still simmers beneath his skin, eating away at him.
"Take Raka and leave," he says—cold, final.
"Now."
"Take us to him," Jack says, voice calm and professional. "We'll do as decided. Hunter should return with Knight—his wife's due for a baby soon." He smiles, patting Hunter's shoulder with quiet pride.
Hunter gives a faint nod as Rhett meets his eyes—nothing more.
But a rare glimmer flickers there, and the quiet shift in his jaw says the rest.
"Follow me."
Rhett turns and walks out of the living room—silent, unyielding.
Hunter moves first, following close behind Rhett—his hand brushing the pistol tucked in the holster at his waist.
Jack meets Sky's gaze—an unspoken understanding flickering between them, steady and unreadable, in the brittle stillness Rhett's exit carved into the room.
Ace rises in silence and trails after Jack, his expression calm and indistinct.
---
The hallway falls silent as Ishmael appears—
cuffed and calm, his wrists shackled in cold, gleaming steel.
Hunter walks beside him, silent and alert.
Rhett, a shadow behind them.
Ace and Sky stand by the living room door, watching.
Ace leans slightly, murmuring into her ear, "They look scarily alike. Now it all makes sense."
Sky doesn't react. Not a blink.
Ace just shrugs to himself.
"Wait."
Sky steps aside as Knight emerges from the living room, his eyes locked on Ishmael—
who has paused beside Hunter, his stance calm and uncannily obscure.
"What now?" Rhett asks, jaw clenched.
Knight throws him a look of disdain, then turns his focus to Ishmael.
"It took you only four days to arrive," Knight says, his gaze flicking to Rhett.
"But it took us more than a week—even with your guides.
How do I know you're not scheming against us?"
He turns to Ishmael, scanning him up and down with barely veiled contempt.
"He looks well fed. Not much of a prisoner."
Rhett drags a hand down his face, sighing—sharp and irritated.
"Got any proof?" Rhett shoots back, jaw tight—one muscle twitching.
Knight grits his teeth, silent. He doesn't answer—because he can't. No proof. Just suspicion.
He steps up to Rhett, stopping inches away.
Eye to eye—egoism pressed against cold, unshakable resolve.
"One wrong move—and I'll drive a hole through your skull myself," Knight seethes, voice calm but laced with venom.
A smug, icy grin curves his mouth as he pats Rhett's chest—mocking—and steps back.
Rhett draws in a breath—slow and deep—nostrils flaring.
Knight keeps pushing.
Ishmael watches it all—silent and calculating.
The Agents stand splintered. Tension lines drawn in silence.
He doesn't fail to catch the muffled chatter of children in the room just beyond—
or the soft trace of her laugh, quiet and warm, floating through the walls.
"I'll see them to the car," Jack offers, striding past Rhett and heading for the entrance.
But Ishmael doesn't move.
His eyes stay locked on the closed door beside him.
Faint voices drift through the walls—
familiar voices. His children. His wife.
A single wall between him and everything he once called his world.
"I'll come back," he whispers, almost too soft to hear. "I promise."
The words fall from his lips like a vow to a ghost.
His chest tightens, aching—a smouldering devastation bleeding beneath his skin.
But the Agents around him notice.
Their senses too sharp. Their silence too still.
Ishmael's finger twitches, as if to reach for the door.
But Knight steps forward, the gleam of steel aimed at his abdomen ending his dream.
"Is a nut loose in your brain?" Knight grimaces, eyeing him with open disgust.
Ishmael says nothing.
The dark circles beneath his eyes deepen his hollow stare.
His hair is tousled.
Days of unshaved silence have left a shadow along his jaw.
His eyes—too soft. Ominously so, for just a moment.
"Take him," Knight orders flatly, tucking the weapon back into the waistband of his jeans with finality.
Hunter grabs Ishmael's arm and yanks him forward.
"Move," he mutters.
Rhett exhales—slow and deep—
relief loosening the tightness in his chest
as the air finally breathes, and silence, at last, settles like mercy.
The last of the nuisance—Knight's shadow—slips out through the front door.