Rebecca Farguan's POV
"Don't."
That was the only word that escaped me, thin and useless, as I stood there trying to breathe, trying to understand how my night had collapsed into a graveyard in less than ten minutes.
This was supposed to be my biggest transaction. The one that would finally prove—to myself more than anyone—that I deserved to sit at the table with men like Gulop. Twelve high-grade diamonds. For ten million in cash. I had drained everything I had, sold favors, called in debts I swore I would never touch. I even told myself it was worth it, because this deal would set me free from scraping by on the edges of the black market.
I wanted to escape the grasp of my family.
It had started clean. I never killed anyone. I only walked on the gray area of society, enough to abide by the law, yet established my name in underground businesses.
I showed the briefcase. Gulop showed the diamonds. Frank inspected them one by one, his hands steady, his voice calm when he said they were real. Jil joked about retirement. Fay teased me for being too tense. Malcom leaned against the car, chewing gum like this was just another night. Skitter kept watch at the edge of the dock.
Then Yosep opened fire.
I still couldn't remember hearing the first shot. Only the bodies dropping. Frank went down before he could hand me the bag. Jil spun and collapsed. Fay didn't even scream. Malcom tried to draw and failed. Skitter fell last, blood blooming across his chest as he stared at me like he wanted an answer I didn't have.
And now Yosep lay dead too, his blood pooling into the cracks of the concrete, his eyes glassy and empty.
Someone I hadn't seen had killed him.
I looked at Yosep's body, my chest tight with a knot of emotions that didn't belong together—regret, because he had once laughed with us; sympathy, because he had chosen wrong; fury, because he had slaughtered my people without hesitation. Most of them had been his friends. Men who trusted him. Men who had vouched for him when I was still learning how to be a boss.
Edward Gulop raised one hand slowly, palm out, his voice cutting through my thoughts. "I don't like repeating myself," he said evenly. "Show yourself. Or else."
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then I saw it.
Two points of purple light, glowing in the darkness more than fifty meters away.
My breath caught. That distance—no rifle, no scope. Whatever had killed Yosep wasn't human. It couldn't be.
The figure stepped forward, emerging from shadow into the harsh dock lights. A man, few inches taller than me, normal build. A black hood hid his hair. A dog-shaped mask covered his face completely. No visible weapons. No gun. No blade.
He walked as if no one there could touch him.
Fear crawled up my spine. Wasn't he afraid? Of the guns? Of Gulop?
Gulop's composure cracked just slightly as he muttered, "Nihilkin."
My heart slammed against my ribs. One of them. One of the monsters the city had been whispering about for days—the ones who killed humans not for money, ambition, or passion but for consumption.
Gulop cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. "Mr. Nihilkin," he said, forcing politeness into his tone. "May I ask what your business is here?"
The masked man tilted his head. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, almost a growl. "I'm hungry."
Gulop gestured stiffly at the bodies. "Then you're in luck. Plenty of meat here. You may take them. No one will object."
For the first time, I saw fear in Gulop's eyes—real fear, buried beneath layers of practiced calm.
The masked man shook his head slowly. "I want yours."
The color drained from Gulop's face.
Without waiting for his command, his subordinate fired.
Gunfire erupted before Gulop could stop it. He shouted for his men to cease, but panic had already taken hold. Muzzles flashed. The sound was deafening.
And then the masked man vanished.
One moment, he was standing fifty meters away. Next, he was among Gulop's men.
What followed didn't feel real. It felt like watching a nightmare through broken glass.
One man lost his arm in a blur of motion. He didn't even finish screaming before his neck twisted at an impossible angle. Another was hurled upward, crashing onto the roof of a car with a sickening crunch. A third emptied his magazine point-blank, bullets bouncing uselessly off the masked man's body. The Nihilkin walked through it, calm, inevitable, and punched straight through the man's torso.
The last two fled, boots slapping against concrete, terror driving them faster than loyalty ever could.
The masked man didn't chase them.
He turned back to Gulop.
Edward Gulop stumbled, fell to his knees, and begged, "Spare me, Mr. Nihilkin, I can give you everything…" His voice shook, stripped of arrogance, "... money, influence, contacts—anything."
"Tell me your name," the masked man said.
"I'm Edward Gulop," he answered quickly. "Please."
"Call me Cerberus."
The name sent a shiver through me.
Cerberus crouched slightly. "Can you find something for me?"
Gulop nodded frantically. "Anything. Just say it."
"Two artifacts," Cerberus said. "The Serpentine Chain Armlet. The Cloak of Undying."
Gulop swallowed. "I can find them. I swear. I just need time."
"One week. Here," Cerberus said, lifting a finger. "Fail, and I will hunt you."
"I won't fail," Gulop said, scrambling to his feet. He ran without looking back, leaving the diamonds behind in Frank's lifeless hands.
Cerberus turned to me.
I forced myself not to step back.
He picked up the bag of diamonds, opened it briefly. "Is this yours?"
"No," I said, surprised at how steady my voice sounded. "That belongs to Mr. Gulop."
He nodded, then glanced at the briefcase in the trunk of my car. "And that?"
"That's mine."
"Take it," he said. "And leave. Do you want these diamonds?"
I looked at the bodies. At the blood. On the night that had taken everything from me. "No," I said quietly. "As long as I live, that's enough."
He regarded me for a moment, the purple glow of his eyes searing through the mask. I held his gaze longer than I should have, longer than was sensible, my face heating as my heartbeat lost its rhythm. I knew, with absolute clarity, that he was dangerous—death wrapped in human shape—yet that knowledge did nothing to quell the pull tightening in my chest. If anything, it only made the attraction more terrifying.
Then he turned and disappeared into the darkness.
I stood there long after he was gone, my face hot, my heart racing. My reflection stared back at me from the car window—wide-eyed, flushed, ridiculous.
Am I… in love? I thought.
No. Don't be stupid, Rebecca. That's for teenagers.
As I reached for my briefcase, I noticed something on top of it.
Six blood-soaked diamonds.
I laughed softly.
I lost my men.
But I found a man.
I picked up my phone and dialed a number. It was answered immediately. A man's voice came from the other line, professional and composed. "How can I help you, Miss Farguan?"
I glanced in the direction he went, "Help me collect information about a Nihilkin. He called himself Cerberus. Also, try to find the whereabouts of these artifacts—the Serpentine Chain Armlet, and the Cloak of Undying. I want the information as soon as possible."
"Two days, that's the latest, Miss Farguan," he responded.
"Ok, I'll wait," I hung up immediately. Grabbed the diamonds and the briefcase. Went to my car, started the engine, and moved out from the pier before the authorities arrived.
While driving, I couldn't help but mutter, "We'll see each other again, my dear Cerberus."