I saw them before I heard them—shadows first, then shapes, then intent.
At the far end of the concrete pier, cars were parked in two loose clusters, engines off, headlights dark. Portable floodlights stood on tripods, bleaching the center of the dock in harsh white while the edges sank into shadow. The sea below was wide, deep, and eerily still, reflecting the light in broken streaks that trembled with every faint ripple.
Two people stood on one side of the light. On the other, more than half a dozen figures formed a wide arc, rifles raised and steady. These weren't pistols. Even from a distance, I could tell—long barrels, thick stocks, the kind of guns meant to end things decisively.
I slowed my steps and slipped behind a concrete pillar, letting my breathing settle. Three street light posts away was far enough. For normal people, this would have been nothing but distant noise carried by the wind. For me, every word arrived clean and sharp, like I was standing right there among them.
Cerberus stirred.
No Nihilkin, he said after a brief pause. Just humans.
"That doesn't make this easier," I muttered.
A woman's voice cut through the night—calm, controlled, carrying a sharp edge beneath it.
"Yosep," she said. "How dare you betray us."
I leaned out just enough to see her clearly.
She stood in the center of the light, back straight, shoulders squared despite the gun pressed to her head. Blood darkened the concrete around her boots. Bodies lay scattered behind her—men and women sprawled in unnatural angles, eyes open, clothes soaked through. No signs of a struggle. It had been quick. Efficient.
The man holding the gun—Yosep—looked almost relaxed. He grinned as he dragged the muzzle slowly from her temple down the side of her neck, brushing aside loose strands of her hair. The cold metal traced her skin.
She didn't flinch.
My jaw tightened.
Yosep stood close, gun pressed to her temple again, his lustful grin made my stomach twist.
"Did you really think this would last?" Yosep said, forcing a laugh that rang hollow in the open air. "Playing queen of the underworld without getting your hands dirty?"
Rebecca didn't turn her head. "You killed them," she said quietly. "All of them."
He dragged the barrel down from her temple to her neck, brushing aside her hair. "They chose the wrong side."
"They believe in you," she shot back.
Yosep's smile twitched. "And that was their mistake."
She glanced past him, eyes lingering on the bodies. One man lay face down near the edge of the pier, his hand still clenched like he'd been reaching for something. Another stared blankly at the sky, mouth half open in surprise.
"Frank vouched for you," Rebecca said. "He brought you in. He trusted you."
Yosep scoffed, though his grip tightened. "Frank was sentimental. Just like you. Loyalty doesn't pay, Rebecca."
"It meant something to them," she said. "They trusted you."
"For years," he snapped. Then, catching himself, he forced a grin. "And tonight, they followed you straight into a grave."
Her voice shook—not with fear, but with fury. "You sold them. For money."
"For more than money," Yosep said, leaning closer, his breath hot against her ear. "Money. Power. And something you could but never let me have."
His eyes raked over her.
"You were too busy pretending to be righteous. You're too inexperienced. Too ambitious. You wanted to build an empire without crossing the line. That made you weak."
He continued. "You avoided the real deals. The ugly ones. That offended the wrong people."
A calm voice cut in.
"That part is true."
A man from the other side stepped forward, shoes pristine despite the blood pooling around him. He surveyed the scene with professional detachment, like a failed transaction.
"Miss Rebecca," he said mildly, "you made enemies you didn't know you were making."
She turned her head slightly. "You hired him, Mr. Gulop."
"I hired him," Mr. Gulop agreed. "I did not order this."
Yosep sneered. "Don't pretend you're clean."
Gulop's eyes flicked to him, cold now. "You were told to remove her from the board. Not slaughter all her subordinates."
Rebecca laughed weakly. "So this wasn't even your call."
Gulop sighed. "Unfortunately, no. You offended a client. A very influential one. He has connections I prefer not to sever."
"So you sold me out," she said.
"I tried to negotiate," Gulop replied smoothly. "Your head was the price of peace. I dislike waste—but business is business."
Yosep grinned. "See? It's not personal."
Rebecca closed her eyes. "You killed your own friends for this."
"They were liabilities," Yosep snapped. "And you lead them to this."
Chloe exhaled slowly, shoulders finally sagging. Not in defeat—more like acceptance.
"You're right," she said. "I lead them, and failed them. I failed my subordinates. I failed my people."
Her voice cracked, just slightly.
"Maybe in another life," she added softly, "I'd be a better boss."
The wind carried the smell of salt and blood across the pier.
Then her hand moved.
Fast. Clean. She reached behind her back and drew a small pistol hidden at her hip. Before anyone could react, she brought it up and pressed the barrel to her own forehead.
Yosep swore, jerking the gun away from her head too late to matter. "Chloe, don't—"
Time slowed.
I stood frozen in the shadows, heart pounding, every instinct screaming at me to move.
Chloe closed her eyes. Her finger tightened on the trigger. But gun never fired.
Before Rebecca's finger could finish the pull, I scooped a loose stone from the concrete and hurled it. I didn't think—didn't aim the way I used to. My arm moved on instinct alone.
The stone struck her hand.
Metal clattered across the pier as the pistol flew free. Rebecca gasped and staggered back, clutching her wrist. Blood seeped between her fingers, thin and bright, more shock than damage. Her eyes widened, not in pain, but disbelief.
"What—?" she breathed.
Yosep spun instantly, gun snapping toward the darkness where I crouched. "Who's there?"
The others followed his movement, boots scraping, guns lifting. The pier suddenly felt too open, the lights too exposed.
"There!" Yosep barked.
The shot rang out, loud and ugly. The bullet shattered concrete inches from my shoulder.
I didn't wait.
Another stone—heavier this time. I poured everything into the throw. The world narrowed to Yosep's face, twisted with rage and greed and something feral underneath.
The stone hit his forehead.
It didn't stop.
There was a wet, hollow sound as it punched through and exited the back of his skull. Yosep's expression froze mid-snarl, then collapsed. He dropped without a sound, blood spraying the concrete behind him.
Silence slammed down.
Rebecca stared, frozen, her breath hitching. One of the men in front of her retched. Another took a step back, boots slipping in blood.
Mr. Gulop recovered first.
His eyes found the darkness where I stood, sharp and calculating despite the chaos. "Impressive," he called out calmly. "Very impressive."
Guns shifted again, searching. I stayed still, barely breathing.
"Whoever you are," Gulop continued, voice smooth as oil, "you've made your point. Now show your face."
Rebecca swallowed hard. Her gaze swept the shadows too, fear and something else flickering across her expression—hope, maybe.
"Don't," she said quietly, not sure who she was speaking to.