The road ahead of me was nothing but a blur of colors—streetlights melting into each other, headlights slicing through the darkness like knives. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care.
I just kept driving, my hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white. The city felt like a coffin, and I was trapped inside it, drowning in memories I wished I could tear out of my mind.
Hours passed like minutes… or maybe minutes like hours.
Eventually, without planning it, I found myself slamming the brakes in front of a towering building in the city center, its windows shining like indifferent eyes.
I got out. And my legs carried me to the one place I should never have entered.
Adrian Moretti's office.
I didn't knock. I kicked the door open.
He flinched—just a little—but enough to satisfy something hollow and vicious inside me.
Then he smirked.
"Detective Alex," he said, leaning back in his chair as if welcoming an old friend. "Always a pleasure. Don't tell me you're here to arrest me too?"
His voice was smooth, practiced, dangerous. A man used to controlling the room.
Unfortunately for him…
I was no longer someone who could be controlled.
I stepped forward, shadows clinging to me like smoke.
"I have an offer for you."
He raised a brow. "Oh? I'm listening."
Adrian Moretti—forty, wealthy, polished, a man whose empire of hotels and restaurants was nothing more than a well-decorated coffin covering the rotting corpse of his real business.
Drug trafficking. Money laundering. Arms dealing.
The city's most untouchable criminal.
And I was standing in his office like I had nothing left to lose.
Because I didn't.
I spoke slowly, carefully. "Your business is collapsing. It started the moment Daniel Smith came after you. When he went to prison, you climbed back up. But he's dead now. And the empire is moving to Victoria. She'll drag you back to the bottom."
His eyes narrowed. Confusion. Suspicion.
Then he laughed.
"Wait—you're helping me? Is this a joke? Did the police run out of evidence so they sent you to try a cheap trick?"
I stared at him.
No blink.
No smile.
No soul.
"Do I look like I'm joking?" I said. "If I wanted you behind bars, I'd let nature do the work. All I'd need to do is wait for Victoria to destroy you."
Silence. Heavy. Thick.
Then he exhaled.
"And how exactly do you plan to help me?"
I leaned on his desk.
"Everyone abandoned you for Victoria. She's more influential, more ruthless. If it continues like this, you will go bankrupt. Your only option is to remove her."
His gaze sharpened.
"And how do you know things no one else does?"
I lowered my eyes.
"I was a detective once."
His confusion deepened. "Was? What does that mean? You're not anymore?"
I straightened. "Not anymore. Now let's get back to business. I'll handle the dirty work. You'll give me information. If something goes wrong, I'll take the fall."
A long, calculating silence.
Then he asked the question he had been dying to ask.
"What do you want in return?"
"Nothing."
He scoffed. "Everything has a price. Speak clearly or there's no deal."
I looked him in the eye, and for the first time, he saw something inside me that unsettled him.
"I want Victoria's head."
He blinked.
"Oh," he said lightly. "So you want her dead. If you wish, I can kill her for you—"
"Don't."
My voice cut through the room like a blade.
"Her life," I said, "is mine to take. Don't touch her."
He raised his hands. "Alright. She's all yours. But… why?"
"No reason you need to know."
He sighed. "Fine. What do you need?"
"Information. Weapons. And distance. You pretend we never met."
He nodded slowly.
"We can work with that."
"Well, before we start discussing this, let's treat your wounds first," Adrian said, telling one of his men to fetch a doctor. Alex tried to object, but Adrian wouldn't agree to begin until they were treated.
By morning, the bruises on my ribs burned like living fire.
The cuts on my face and hand throbbed with every heartbeat and refused to stop bleeding .
Adrian insisted on calling a doctor before we even discussed details.
I hated it.
But I allowed it.
Because pain no longer mattered.
Only purpose did.
The next day, a knock echoed through my small, rotting apartment.
When I opened the door, a man in a black suit bowed slightly, handed me a thick envelope, and said in a cold tone:
"This is from Master Moretti."
Then he left without another word.
I stared at the envelope like it contained my salvation, my damnation, or both.
Inside it—my first target.
Sam.
Thirty-two.
Drug distributor.
Victoria's loyal dog.
He would be at Royal Club tonight.
Perfect.
My room was barely big enough to contain me, let alone my grief. No bed. No kitchen. Just peeling walls, a flickering lamp, and silence that screamed at me louder than any gunshot ever could.
I chose it because it felt like punishment.
Because it felt like the place someone like me belonged.
Revenge was the only thing that kept me breathing.
Revenge—on the woman who took Liz from me.
Sweet, bright, innocent Liz.
Laughing Liz.
Warm Liz.
Dead Liz.
Her name alone twisted something inside my chest until I could hardly breathe.
Victoria would pay.
But first… her world had to collapse.
Night swallowed the city by the time I approached the Royal Club. Bass pulsed from inside the building, loud enough to shake the pavement beneath my boots. As I entered, I was hit with sweat, perfume, alcohol, and a kind of reckless joy I could no longer understand.
I wore black from head to toe—hoodie, pants, hat pulled low.
A gun in my shoulder holster.
A second weapon hidden beneath my jacket.
A dagger strapped to my ankle.
Another tucked to my hip.
Their music was loud.
My heartbeat louder.
I sat at the bar, ignoring the chaos around me, eyes locked on the entrance.
Minutes passed. Nothing.
Then I saw him—Sam—walking in like he owned the place.
Two massive men followed him, each lugging a bag I knew too well.
Drugs.
They moved upstairs.
So did I.
Quiet steps.
Steady breath.
No hesitation.
I stood outside the door, listening.
"This month's payment," Sam said. "Same distribution pattern. Just get my money in by midnight."
A forced laugh from the club manager.
"Is it the same stuff as last time—?"
"No," Sam cut him off. "Stronger. Faster. And five bonus bags for your loyalty."
A toast.
The clink of glasses.
Perfect timing.
I lifted my boot—
—and kicked the door open so hard the hinges screamed.
Gasps.
Chaos.
Hands reaching instinctively for weapons—
Too slow.
I fired twice.
The first bullet pierced the bodyguard's skull.
The second cracked through the manager's forehead like glass shattering.
He dropped backward, eyes wide, already dead.
Sam dove behind a table, choking on fear.
I walked in slowly, my gun still raised, my pulse eerily calm.
"Come out," I said. "Now."
A moment later, he crawled out, shaking so hard he could barely hold himself up.
"P-please—"
"Sit."
He dropped to his knees.
I sat across from him, placing the gun gently on my thigh as if it were nothing more than a cup of coffee.
"If you answer my questions," I said, "you live."
He nodded frantically.
And he talked.
He spilled everything.
Names.
Locations.
Distribution patterns.
Schedules.
Contacts.
Weak points.
Club routes.
All of it.
When he finished, he exhaled shakily. "T-that's everything… Can I go now?"
"One more thing."
I tossed him his own phone.
"Call Victoria."
His face paled.
"W-what should I tell her?"
"Tell her the hunt has begun," I said. "Tell her I'm coming for her."
"And if she asks who…?"
"Tell her it's Alex. The Detective."
He dialed.
She answered.
He delivered the message.
And when he hung up—
I lifted the gun to his forehead.
His eyes widened with betrayal.
"You… you said you'd l-let me go…"
I gave him a small, humorless smile.
"I lied."
One shot.
Clean.
Final.
Sam collapsed forward, blood pooling beneath him.
Another piece removed from Victoria's empire.
The next three days were a blur of bullets, screams, burning nightclubs, and blood—too much blood.
Adrian gave me information nonstop.
I hunted.
I struck.
I destroyed.
One distributor after another.
One cell after another.
Victoria's business bled from every vein.
Her money flow slowed.
Her allies abandoned her.
Her empire cracked.
And Adrian's rose again.
Exactly as planned.
But I wasn't done.
Not even close.
Because the men who had been with Victoria the night Liz died…
the ones whose faces I remembered with perfect, unbearable clarity…
They were next.
Every one of them.
And every person connected to them.
I didn't hesitate.
I didn't forgive.
I didn't show mercy.
Not for parents.
Not for friends.
Not for their children.
I had become something else.
Something unrecognizable.
Maybe something monstrous.
But I didn't care.
Victoria created this version of me.
I would let her see it before she died.
Three days.
Three endless, sleepless, merciless days.
That's how long it took for me to burn Victoria's empire to the ground.
But the nights…
The nights were worse.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.
Liz—
Running toward me in a dream, her laughter echoing like sunlight, warm and weightless.
But just before she reached my arms, her face shifted—
colors draining, lips turning blue, eyes glassy—
"You killed me, Auntie."
The words crushed me awake.
Every. Single. Night.
I'd jerk up gasping, hand clutching my chest as panic seized every nerve.
"I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"
It became a prayer.
A curse.
A rhythm my lungs got used to.
I worked until my body shook from exhaustion.
Until I couldn't feel my hands.
Until even breathing felt like a chore.
Because if I stopped moving—
I would remember.
And remembering hurt more than any wound I'd ever taken.
By day three, the files stretched across my table in piles—contracts, audio logs, hidden camera shots, transaction lists, shipment maps, blackmail records, underground auctions.
Victoria's empire wasn't just dirty.
It was built on bones.
And I had enough proof to bury her reputation forever.
I copied everything and leaked it anonymously to the press.
Every channel.
Every newspaper.
Every social media outlet.
Within hours, the world was on fire.
"Illegal trafficking scandal linked to Smith Empire"
"Money laundering ring exposed"
"Human exploitation network traced to Smith family"
Victoria wasn't arrested—
her influence was too strong—
but she was collapsing.
Publicly.
Socially.
Financially.
And still, it wasn't enough.
Because she was breathing.
And Liz wasn't.
The men who were with Victoria on the day Liz died—
twelve men—
their faces were burned into my memory like scars.
I hunted them one by one.
Not quickly.
Not cleanly.
I made sure they felt what Liz felt—
fear
helplessness
pain
that choking terror before the end.
I tracked their families too.
Every friend.
Every person they spoke to.
Mercy was a word that no longer existed in my dictionary.
Parents screamed for their children.
Children sobbed over parents.
I looked them in the eye, cold and hollow, and whispered:
"They're dead because of you."
Then I killed them too.
I didn't blink.
I didn't hesitate.
I left behind a trail of corpses that made the news every hour.
People were horrified.
Terrified.
Some called the killer a demon.
A psychopath.
A monster.
They were right.
But the monster had a purpose—
a name—
a face.
Victoria's.
I became the thing she made me.
And I embraced it.
The fourth night, I sat in Adrian's office as rain hammered against the windows in violent sheets. The storm outside felt like the storm inside me—wild, consuming, unstoppable.
Adrian sat behind his mahogany desk, swirling a glass of whiskey like this was just another business victory.
"You did a fantastic job," he said proudly. "Victoria's empire is crumbling. My business is thriving again. Everything is returning to normal."
Normal.
He actually said normal.
I kept staring at the rain.
He continued, oblivious to the way my jaw clenched:
"There's no need to worry anymore. Bankruptcy? Gone. Fear? Gone. You've done more than any of my men ever could."
I turned to him slowly.
My voice was quiet… but it carried enough weight to still the air.
"This isn't over."
His smile died.
"As long as Victoria is alive," I said, "you're not safe. And neither am I."
He sighed, leaning back. "I knew you wouldn't stop here."
Of course he knew.
Everyone who saw me lately knew.
"I've had someone tracking her," he continued. "She's terrified. She's moving to a villa outside the city… with guards. Lots of them."
"Where?"
My voice was flat.
He slid a paper toward me.
I stood.
He raised a hand. "Alex, wait. You look half-dead. Don't tell me you're going alone. I can send men with you—"
"No."
"Alex—"
"I said no."
I didn't even look at him.
"Just give me weapons."
He stared at me for a long moment.
A mixture of fear and respect flickered in his eyes.
Finally, he nodded slowly.
"…Take whatever you need.
And… it was a pleasure working with you. Even if just for a short time."
I didn't answer.
I loaded up.
Weapons.
Ammo.
Grenades.
Knives.
Everything.
Tonight wasn't a mission.
Tonight was an ending.
Victoria's villa rose from the darkness like a fortress.
Guards patrolled the garden, the windows glowed faintly, and security cameras swept the property like searching eyes.
I crouched behind the trees, breath steady, grip firm.
Black jacket.
Black combat pants.
Holsters tight.
Dagger strapped against my thigh.
Grenades in my pockets.
Every muscle in my body screamed for rest.
But revenge kept me alive.
And revenge demanded blood.
Tonight… Victoria would drown in hers.
The moon hid behind thick clouds, as if even the sky refused to witness what I was about to do.
Victoria's villa stretched in front of me—a glowing cage of warm lights and armed men. A place where she thought money and guards could shield her from judgment.
She was wrong.
I adjusted the dagger strapped to my thigh, tightened the gun holsters on my shoulders, and exhaled slowly. The air was cold enough to sting, but my blood boiled hotter than fire.
Tonight, she dies.
I moved.
Two guards patrolled the garden lazily, unaware of the shadow approaching them.
My boots made no sound against the wet grass.
I closed the distance behind the first one, wrapped my hand tightly over his mouth, and dragged the blade across his throat in one swift, practiced cut.
Hot blood sprayed across my knuckles.
He gurgled.
Twitched.
Collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
I pulled him into the bushes, hiding him beneath the darkness.
The second guard turned at the wrong moment.
His eyes widened.
He fumbled for his gun, but he was shaking—slow from fear.
I was fast.
I threw the dagger.
It sank straight into his eye socket with a sickening crack.
He fell to his knees without a sound.
I walked up calmly, pulled the dagger free, wiped the blood on his sleeve, and kept moving.
I opened the front door slowly.
Voices drifted from the living room—seven men crowded around a large table, laughing, swearing, playing cards.
They didn't deserve warning.
I pulled two grenades from my pockets, flicked both pins with my thumbs, opened the door just enough…
…and rolled them inside.
"—What the—?"
And then—
BOOM.
The door shuddered.
Glass shattered.
Pieces of flesh hit the walls.
I stepped inside.
The scene before me was pure carnage.
Bodies… or what remained of them… were scattered across the room. One man's arm lay across the table. Another was slumped against the wall, stomach torn open, organs spilling out like wet ropes.
Two of them were still alive—barely.
One crawled away, dragging himself by his elbows, guts trailing behind him.
The other breathed in wet, shallow gasps.
I didn't blink.
I lifted my gun…
and ended both with a shot to the head.
No hesitation.
No remorse.
Their lives meant nothing to me.
Not anymore.
The explosion triggered the villa's alarm.
A sharp siren cut through the halls.
Footsteps thundered toward me—five armed men rushing out of a side room, guns raised.
I dove behind a marble table as bullets ripped through the furniture, showering me with wooden splinters.
Smoke from the explosion filled the room, thick and choking, giving me cover.
They fired blindly into the haze.
"Where is she?!"
"Spread out! Don't let her—"
They stopped shooting to reload.
That was their mistake.
I rose from behind the broken table with a gun in each hand and moved through the smoke like a wraith.
My bullets found their targets—
one in the throat,
one between the eyes,
one in the temple,
one in the jaw.
The fifth man charged at me with a scream, firing wildly. I ducked behind a pillar, slid across the floor, and shot upward from beneath his line of sight.
The bullet punched through his chin and exited the top of his skull.
He fell backward, limbs twitching.
I didn't waste time.
I felt the shift of air behind me—
someone was swinging a blade at my neck.
Instinct took over.
I ducked, feeling the wind of the sword's edge cut inches above my head.
The attacker—a tall man with crazed eyes—swung again, fast and wild.
Too close to shoot.
I drew back just enough, grabbed his wrist, twisted it sharply.
Bones cracked.
The sword clattered to the floor.
Before he could recover, I fired upward.
The bullet entered beneath his jaw, exploding through the top of his skull.
He dropped instantly.
I picked up the sword—its blade heavy, slick with someone's blood.
It would come in handy.
I ran up the stairs.
A shot rang out—
a guard fired from the top landing.
The bullet grazed my arm, burning like fire.
I didn't flinch.
I took aim and shot him in the thigh.
He screamed and collapsed.
I walked toward him slowly, deliberately.
He tried to crawl away, leaving a smear of blood on the polished floor.
I raised the sword—
—in one clean swing, his head fell away from his shoulders.
Blood sprayed across the walls like red paint.
I stepped over his body, following the corridor.
Silence.
Nothing but the echo of my own breathing.
But then—
A reflection.
In the glass window at the end of the hall, I saw two shadows hiding around the corner.
My last grenade.
I pulled the pin and tossed it silently.
BOOM.
The hallway shook.
When the smoke cleared, one man lay dead, chest blown open.
The other was alive—barely.
Breathing shallowly.
Half his face missing.
I stabbed him through the throat, pinning him to the floor for a moment before ripping the blade free.
My boots dripped blood as I walked toward the final door.
Victoria's door.
Larger than the others.
Expensive.
Pretentious.
I heard muffled voices inside.
Victoria was terrified—her breathing fast, high, panicked.
Good.
I kicked the door open.
Inside were three people:
two guards standing defensively, and Victoria cowering behind a desk.
I shot the first guard instantly.
When I fired at the second, my gun clicked empty.
He shot back—
the bullet tore into my shoulder, searing pain burning through my whole arm.
I didn't stop.
I threw the sword like a spear.
It hit him straight in the abdomen.
He screamed, collapsing to the floor, clutching the blade embedded deep in his gut.
I walked to him, grabbed the sword's handle,
and shoved it up through his mouth.
His eyes rolled back.
He went still.
Only Victoria remained.
She was shaking.
Her back hit the table behind her, knocking everything to the ground.
I approached slowly.
Her face drained of color.
"A-Alex… please… wait—"
My voice was low, deadly:
"You should've killed me.
Not her."
I kicked her in the stomach.
She flew backward and hit the floor with a choking gasp.
I straddled her chest and punched her—
once, twice, ten times—
until her face became a bloody mess.
She grabbed a shard of glass from the floor and stabbed me in the waist.
I didn't react , I didn't care,I kept punching her .
She stabbed again.
And again.
My vision blurred, but rage held me steady.
She stopped only because she couldn't lift her arm anymore.
She whispered with shaking breath, "I'm sorry… I'm sorry I killed Liz… please… forgive—"
I froze.
Liz's name.
Her voice.
Her lips forming those words.
Something snapped in me.
"Don't you EVER speak her name again."
I grabbed her tongue with my fingers.
She struggled, screaming, muffled.
I sliced it off.
Her blood filled her mouth I covered her mouth.
She gagged, choking, panicking.
"That," I said coldly,
"is what Liz felt. When she drowned. When she suffocated on her own blood."
Victoria wheezed for air.
I let her breathe for two seconds.
Then I began stabbing.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
Ten times.
Twenty times.
I didn't stop even when she died.
Even when her body stopped twitching.
Even when my own blood mixed with hers on the floor.
I stabbed until my arms trembled and my vision dimmed.
Only then did I drop the dagger.
Only then did I breathe.
And when I finally stood…
standing over Victoria's body, and looked at her coldly, my face expressionless.
Victoria Smith was no longer alive.
Victoria's blood was already drying on my hands by the time I stepped outside.
The night air hit me like ice, but the cold couldn't numb anything in me anymore.
Not the pain in my shoulder.
Not the stab wounds burning in my side.
Not the deep, hollow ache where my heart used to be.
I walked through the villa grounds, past the bodies I had left behind.
Twelve men.
Two guards.
A dozen more inside.
A graveyard of my own making.
The sirens echoed behind me—distant at first, then growing louder.
Blue and red lights reflected against the wet pavement, chasing the night.
But I didn't run.
I didn't even turn around.
I kept walking… following a narrow path behind the villa until it opened into a small clearing.
Ahead of me, the earth dropped away sharply.
A cliff.
Far below, waves smashed against jagged rocks, roaring with a violence that almost felt familiar.
The wind tugged at my jacket, lifting strands of blood-stained hair from my face.
I stepped closer… closer… until my boots stood inches from the edge.
For the first time in days, weeks, maybe months—
I felt calm.
I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the sky , Unconcerned by the blood that flows from my wounds like a waterfall .
The clouds were heavy, swollen with rain.
The air smelled like iron and sea salt and endings.
Behind me, a voice broke into the chaos:
"Alex!"
My eyes opened slowly.
Jess.
Of course it was Jess.
Her footsteps pounded closer.
She was breathless.
Desperate.
"Alex! Alex, thank God—I finally found you!"
I didn't turn.
Not yet.
"Were you the one who did all this?" she shouted. "Inside the villa—was that you?!"
Silence.
Her voice broke. "Alex, what are you doing? Look at me!"
I turned slowly, like someone moving underwater.
Jess's face twisted in shock.
Her eyes scanned the blood on my clothes, the cuts, the limp in my shoulder… and whatever expression was left on my face.
"Alex… oh my God… what happened to you?" ,You're hurt, let me take you to the hospital."she whispered.
She stepped forward—
I stepped back.
Her breath caught. "No. No, don't… don't do that."
She dared one more step.
I retreated again, heels kissing empty air.
Jess froze in place.
"This isn't you," she said, voice trembling. "The Alex I know… the Alex who used to laugh, who cared about everyone… she wouldn't do this. She wouldn't just—"
"Liz is dead," I said flatly.
Jess flinched as if stabbed.
"I didn't even see you at Liz's funeral," she cried, voice cracking. "Why? Why weren't you there? Answer me, Alex!"
My throat tightened.
I met her gaze with empty eyes.
"Do I have the right to attend her funeral," I asked softly,
"when I'm the one who killed her?"
Jess shook her head violently.
"No. No. You didn't kill her. Don't say that—don't EVER say that! It wasn't your fault!"
But I couldn't hear her.
I could only hear Liz's voice in my nightmares.
You killed me, Auntie.
"I should've quit earlier," I whispered. "I should've taken her somewhere safe. I should've given her up to an orphanage when her mother died. Anything would've been better… than being with me."
I stepped back again.
Jess took a shaky breath.
Her voice dropped to a whisper:
"Please listen to me, Alex… don't do this."
I stayed silent.
Jess's eyes welled with tears.
"I haven't even confessed my feelings to you yet."
My heart stopped.
Her voice broke completely.
"It was love at first sight," she said.
"I fell in love with you the moment I saw you.
But I never had the courage to tell you.
Not until now."
Rain finally began to fall—soft at first, then harder, drumming against the ground.
She raised a trembling hand toward me.
"Please… Alex… don't leave me."
Her hand hovered there—warm, alive, reaching for a ghost.
I looked at her with a sad, hollow smile.
"You deserve someone better than me."
Her face crumpled.
"No. No, Alex. Don't—"
"Thank you," I whispered,
"for everything you did for me… until today."
And before she could move—
I stepped backward
into nothing.
Jess screamed.
The wind swallowed her voice
as I fell.
And the darkness rushed up to meet me.