The door creaked open, and the smell hit them first—copper, heavy in the air, soaked into the carpet and the overturned papers scattered across the floor. Patrick Noel's office was a wreck. Blood had dried in dark streaks across the desk, the walls stained where the struggle must have happened. The body was gone, but the violence lingered like a ghost.
Abel whistled low, stepping inside with his hands tucked into his pockets. He dropped casually into Patrick's chair, spinning it once before leaning back. "So this is it. The great boss's office. The very spot where you supposedly butchered him in cold blood." His grin widened, teasing, though his eyes flicked toward his brother with a spark of interest.
Kane stood in the center of the chaos, his expression calm, though his gaze was sharp. "I didn't kill him. And you know it. Patrick was alive when I walked out of this building. Whoever framed me came after." He looked at Abel, voice steady. "Show me. Project the last few hours here."
Abel arched a brow, but lifted his hands. His fingers traced the air, light bending as the room began to shimmer. The messy office darkened, then came alive with moving echoes—phantoms replaying the past.
There he was—or rather, a figure wearing his face. White hair. Black eyes. Kane's image moving with his exact stride. He entered the office like he owned it.
Patrick looked up from his desk, startled. Words passed—too quiet to hear—but then everything turned brutal.
The fake Kane's hand tightened around Patrick's throat, slamming him against the wall with inhuman force. Papers burst into the air as the desk overturned. The projection showed the doppelgänger's face rippling, skin warping like smoke, until it peeled away—revealing another man underneath. Not Kane. Someone else entirely.
Patrick screamed, blood spraying as the imposter tore into him. The soundless vision made it all the more chilling—the wet thud of fists, the vicious speed of the strikes. Finally, the false Kane stepped back, body dripping with gore, before his form reshaped itself into Kane's image again. He left the office calm, almost casual, while Patrick's body slumped lifeless to the ground.
The vision faded, the present room snapping back—bloody, broken, empty.
Abel lowered his hands, his smirk gone, replaced with something sharper. "Well… there you go, brother. You were right. Someone's walking around with your face."
"A shapeshifter," Kane muttered, his tone colder than before. His eyes lingered on the fading projection, jaw tightening. "I thought they were wiped out. I made sure of it."
He turned toward Abel, who was still lounging in Patrick's chair. "Get up."
Abel raised his brows but slid out of the seat with a shrug, making way as Kane sat down.
The computer on the desk was still logged in, the screen cluttered with case files and unfinished reports. Kane's fingers moved across the keyboard with effortless precision, not pausing to think, not searching for where things were. Every keystroke was exact, sharp, like a pianist who had played the same song for centuries.
Lines of code spilled across the monitor as he bypassed security layers with ease. Firewalls fell in seconds, logs rerouted, cameras tapped into without resistance. He wasn't just using the system—he was bending it, shaping it like wet clay.
Abel leaned against the desk, watching. "And here I thought you hated technology. You look like you built the damn thing."
Kane didn't glance up. His eyes scanned the screen, black irises catching the glow of the monitor. "Who do you think invented hacking? Humans just gave it a name."
A map blinked to life on the display, red dots flickering across the city grid. Kane filtered them with a few strokes, narrowing down signals until only one pulsed steadily. A false trail here, a cloaked signal there—he stripped them away until nothing was left but a single location.
"There," Kane said flatly, tapping the screen. "Our shapeshifter thinks he's clever, but every mask leaves residue. Digital, physical, doesn't matter. You can't hide your shadow from me."
The glowing dot pulsed faintly on the edge of the city, tucked deep in the industrial district. Kane leaned back, closing the window with a tap. "Found him."
Abel smirked. "I'll admit, brother, that was impressive. Almost makes me proud."
Kane stood, sliding the chair back without a sound. His expression didn't change. "Don't be. This isn't over yet."
With the location burned into his mind, Kane didn't linger. He rose from the desk, crossed the floor, and stopped only once—to hand a single slip of paper to the second-in-command of The Daily Crest.
"I'm done here," he said simply. No explanation, no farewell. Then he walked out.
Abel fell in beside him, hands tucked into his pockets, grin playing on his lips. "You never did like long goodbyes."
The night air met them as they stepped onto the street, neon spilling across the pavement. Neither spoke much during the drive. The city rolled by in streaks of light until the streets grew darker, narrower, giving way to rusting warehouses and old factories. The smell of oil and iron hung thick in the air.
They parked a short distance away, shadows stretching across the cracked asphalt. Kane cut the engine and leaned back, his eyes fixed on the building ahead. It was quiet, too quiet.
He turned to Abel without a word. That single look was enough. Abel smirked, already understanding. "Right. Knock and see who answers."
Kane slipped into the shadows, vanishing from sight, while Abel strolled casually toward the door. He rapped his knuckles against the metal, the sound echoing through the empty street.
The game had begun.
"Who's there?" a rough voice called from inside.
Abel leaned against the doorframe, his tone smooth and casual. "Delivery. You ordered pizza."
The reply came quick, without suspicion. "Oh—yeah, one sec."
Locks clicked, a chain slid free, and the door creaked open. The man on the other side blinked in surprise, because Abel wasn't just saying it—he was holding a box of steaming pizza, the smell drifting out as if it had come straight from the oven.
Abel flashed a disarming smile. "Extra cheese, right?"
The man's guard dropped instantly. He nodded, confused but convinced, reaching out without a second thought.