The man took the box and was about to close the door when Abel leaned in with that same easy grin.
"Hold on, my guy. No payment? No tip? That's cold."
The man chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. "Right, my bad. Forgot." His smile mirrored Abel's, forced but convincing. "Wait here, I'll grab my wallet."
He disappeared inside, the sound of footsteps fading down the hall.
When he came back a few minutes later, bills in hand, his stride faltered. His face drained of color. The money slipped from his fingers.
Because standing there at the threshold, calm and unshaken, was Kane.
Those black eyes cut through him like blades, and the air itself felt heavier.
"You recognize me," Kane said quietly. "Good. Saves us time." He stepped closer, his voice steady, each word deliberate. "I'm Kane. The one you tried to frame for the murder of Patrick Noel."
The man's breath caught. For the first time, his mask cracked.
The assassin's shock didn't last long. His breathing steadied, his eyes sharpened, and in one smooth motion he lashed out at Kane, blade flashing toward his throat.
Kane shifted a single step to the side. The strike cut through air, and the man stumbled forward, thrown off balance. Before he hit the floor, Abel caught him by the collar, grinning.
"Easy there," Abel said lightly. "No need to break yourself before the fun starts."
The assassin's response was sudden and brutal. In a blur, his hand shot out—steel glinting—and Abel's head snapped clean off his shoulders. It rolled once before coming to a stop, eyes still half-lidded with amusement.
Kane didn't flinch. His voice was calm, carrying weight in the silence. "You're good, Viktor. I'll give you that. But you chose the wrong man to frame."
In the blink of an eye, Kane was in front of him. His hand clamped over Viktor's face, fingers digging in like iron. With a sharp motion, he drove him into the floor. The impact split the ground, a crater spidering out beneath them.
A low whistle sounded as Abel's body straightened. His head slid back into place, flesh knitting as if nothing had happened. He tilted his neck with a crack and smirked. "Clean. Even I've got to admit it."
Kane lifted his hand from Viktor's face, letting him drop back against the broken floor. His voice was low, steady. "Now. Who sent you, and why frame me?"
Viktor's chest heaved as he struggled for breath. He had seen speed before—monsters, hunters, killers with inhuman reflexes—but nothing like Kane. He couldn't even follow him. And Abel, whose head had just reattached as if it were nothing… the sight alone made his blood run cold.
"I don't know," Viktor rasped, coughing up blood. "The job was anonymous. It fit my criteria, so I took it. They gave me your picture. Said you were the target to frame. We were free to kill anyone, but it all had to point back to you."
Kane crouched slightly, his black eyes cutting into him. "Where did you take the contract?"
Viktor swallowed, trembling under the weight of that gaze. It wasn't just a stare—it was like standing under something far greater, something that could crush him without effort.
"There's… a channel," Viktor admitted, his voice shaking. "A group for assassins. Contracts flow in every day. That's all I know. I swear it."
Kane said nothing for a moment, just watching him the way a god might watch a mortal begging for his life.
"He's not lying," Abel said casually, scrolling through Viktor's phone as if it belonged to him. His thumb moved quick, unlocking screens without effort. Viktor's eyes widened—he hadn't even seen Abel leave, let alone return with his phone in hand. What are these people? he thought, dread twisting in his gut.
Kane let out a long breath, his gaze heavy on Viktor. "So you're nothing but a pawn. Thrown away the moment you served your purpose."
He lifted a hand and traced a symbol in the air, the lines burning faintly before sinking into Viktor's skin. The assassin flinched, a shiver running through him as the rune locked in place. His body tensed, his power cut off—no more shifting, no more masks.
Kane straightened, turning toward the door. "That should hold him."
He pulled out his phone and dialed Marcus, his tone flat and clipped when the detective answered. "You'll find your killer here. Still breathing. Come collect him."
Without another word, Kane slipped the device back into his coat. He and Abel stepped out into the night, leaving Viktor bound and broken in the silence.
A few moments later, the Villa's doors opened and Kane stepped inside with Abel trailing close behind. Kane's scowl deepened as his brother wandered in like he owned the place, tossing his coat on the couch and heading straight for the minibar.
Abel poured two glasses without asking, sliding one across the counter toward Kane with a grin. "So, brother… what's the plan? Someone's clearly gunning for you. They're careful, they're hiding, and that makes them a coward. And you know how much I hate cowards."
Kane took the glass, staring at the liquid for a moment before drinking. He sighed, the weight of it clear in his tone. "Don't drag our parents into this. They're not behind it—you made sure of that long ago. This is someone else. Maybe one person, maybe a group. I don't know yet. What I do know is… my quiet life is finished. And I don't like it. Not one bit."
Abel tilted his head back, laughing loud and sharp. "Or maybe it's just beginning to get interesting. And by interesting, I mean fun."
Kane's jaw tightened, the sound of his brother's laughter echoing through the Villa. A dull ache pressed against his temples, a heavy sense of dread crawling in with every note of Abel's amusement.