Benedict watched Vincent get dressed for his upcoming mission. It was far from the first time he had seen him naked, and yet he still found it difficult to look away.
Of course, Vincent noticed immediately. A smug smile appeared on his lips.
"Like what you see?"
He deliberately turned slightly toward him, giving Benedict an almost perfect view of his broad chest and sharply defined abs. The muscles beneath his skin tensed as Vincent reached for his pants and pulled them on. He made a point of flexing, fully aware that Benedict was watching him very closely. Then he slowly pulled his shirt over his head.
Vincent was probably the only man who could make getting dressed look as erotic as other people performing a striptease.
"If I didn't like it, I probably wouldn't be wasting my time with you," Benedict scoffed, even though he knew perfectly well that Vincent had already seen right through him.
Vincent gave him a crooked smile as he continued dressing and began strapping on so many weapons that one might have thought he was heading off to war.
"It's a shame I have to leave you already," he said with a note of regret in his voice. He glanced around theatrically. "Especially when our bedroom isn't even furnished yet."
Benedict rolled his eyes.
"Ours? Whatever ideas you've got in your head, you can forget them right now. I'm definitely not staying here forever. If you kill this Levi tonight, I'll be back in my own apartment no later than the day after tomorrow."
"No later than the day after tomorrow? So I can still hope you'll keep me company for one more night?"
"I expect compensation for all the stress you've caused me," Benedict replied with a faint smile.
Vincent walked over to him.
"Who would have thought you could be tamed so quickly?" he murmured with satisfaction. His huge hand brushed gently across Benedict's cheek. But his expression hardened again as quickly as it had softened.
"I hope you're taking your assignment seriously."
Benedict sighed.
"I'm sure I can manage to keep an eye on Isaac and watch the girl."
Vincent nodded.
"Report anything that seems unusual to you. Keep your phone and your weapons close at hand, and raise the alarm if anything happens."
"You do realize I'm a fully trained police officer, right? I know what I'm doing," he snorted, amused.
"Good. Because you're the only one I can trust with this task. Just act harmless and keep your weapons close at all times," Vincent said. His gaze darkened.
"You saw the photo? If he shows up here, make sure you get Isaac out of there. The way he reacts to Levi, it won't end well."
Benedict snorted.
"I've memorized his face," he replied. "Keep me updated, okay? I want to know whether you catch this Levi or not."
Vincent nodded.
"We should be back before dawn. If it's a trap, we'll see how long the whole thing takes," he said. "When I get back, I'd like to focus on more pleasant things for a change—things that, for once, have nothing to do with betrayal."
Benedict smiled at him challengingly.
"Thanks to a certain someone, I'm back in shape. And as luck would have it, I could use a little exercise myself."
He leaned forward and kissed Vincent before pulling away again.
"Take care of the rat first. I'm not going anywhere. Besides, you still have a lot of information that could be useful to me."
Vincent chuckled.
"Somehow, I like being used by you."
A moment later, he kissed Benedict, and Benedict let himself get swept away all too willingly.
He knew that his relationship with Vincent was anything but healthy. They stood on opposite sides of the law, and the fact that Vincent was a killer could not simply be ignored.
Damn it. He was saying goodbye to a killer who was on his way to take several lives. He was wishing him success as though he were heading to an important business meeting rather than straight into a bloodbath.
And yet, he found himself looking forward to what they would do afterward.
Deep down, Benedict even hoped Vincent wouldn't get hurt. He might be able to heal, but that didn't mean he should be getting injured.
Reluctantly, he pulled away from him.
Vincent had spent half the day organizing the operation, briefing his people, and making sure everyone knew their role. Surprisingly, Noctis had even managed to use a normal tone of voice while helping his brother.
Benedict never would have thought he'd find himself thinking this, but for a few hours, Noctis had actually been tolerable.
He might even have seen a side of Noctis that he could appreciate. There had been no sign of his usual selfish, sarcastic attitude.
Benedict hadn't learned much about their plan, since he hadn't been allowed to attend the briefings.
But that was fine with him.
He had no interest in learning who they intended to kill, when, or how. Well, technically he should have been interested, but he simply didn't want to hear it.
Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to accept the relationship he currently had with Vincent quite so easily—and right now, all of it felt far too good.
"The sun will be setting soon," Benedict finally remarked.
Vincent sighed.
"I know."
He took a step back, checked that his weapons were secure, and slipped his phone into a zippered pocket. His hair was tied back in a tight bun, and his shirt clung almost indecently to his upper body. He gave Benedict one last wink.
"Let's just hope I'm not walking straight into a trap," he said with an amused smile.
He seemed to have absolutely no fear of the mission ahead. If anything, he looked forward to stirring up some trouble.
"You'll survive it," Benedict replied.
Vincent chuckled softly.
"You're right about that. No one will ever kill me. Well then, see you later."
With those words, Vincent left the bedroom, leaving Benedict alone.
Now what was he supposed to do?
Go see Isaac?
Keep an eye on Ashe?
He grabbed his phone and concealed his pistol and a knife in places where the weapons would not be immediately visible. Then he pulled an unbuttoned shirt over his T-shirt and decided to take a look around the new hideout first. After all, there was nothing wrong with familiarizing himself with his surroundings, and Vincent had not forbidden him from exploring.
In fact, he had said there was nothing here worth discovering, since all the truly important documents were kept elsewhere.
Well then, might as well get started.
He stepped into the hallway and committed as much as possible to memory: the width of the corridor and every object he encountered along the way, every vase, every side table, and every crate that had yet to be unpacked.
Vincent's bedroom was connected to his office. The office was located at the rear of the hideout, farther from the entrance and with no direct access to the backyard. Benedict memorized the locations of the storage rooms and noted which rooms were occupied. Naturally, he did not simply walk into them. Instead, he listened to the sounds coming from behind the doors.
He knew where Isaac's and Noctis's room was and decided to visit him later.
First, he needed a snack and, with any luck, a cup of coffee.
For some reason, he had the feeling that this was going to be a long night.
So he headed straight for the kitchen.
The whole time, he had been catching the delicious scent of cookies, a smell that made his mouth water. Normally, he did not have much of a sweet tooth, but cookies were an exception. One or two always went well with a cup of coffee.
He entered the kitchen with the quiet hope that he might be able to grab one to enjoy alongside his coffee before making his way to Isaac.
The thought of seeing him again after their last conversation made him nervous.
He had seen Isaac only two days earlier, yet they had exchanged neither a glance nor a single word.
The first thing Benedict noticed was the huge plate of freshly baked cookies sitting on the table. Beside it was a note that read: For everyone!
Benedict frowned.
To be honest, it genuinely surprised him that even in a clan of killers, there was someone who would bake cookies for everyone after a move.
Quite a few of them had already been eaten.
Next to the plate stood an empty coffee pot, which meant he would have to make a fresh batch himself.
Next to the plate stood an empty coffee pot, meaning he would have to make a fresh one himself.
Benedict sighed quietly and turned toward the coffee machines.
Unfortunately, he had no idea how to operate the barista machine. He didn't know which button did what or how much coffee grounds he needed to use to get the coffee he wanted. His gaze shifted to the smaller machine.
Filter coffee, on the other hand, was a different story.
As he prepared the machine, he found himself wishing that Isaac would make him a cup of coffee. He had been deprived of Isaac's perfect coffee for so long that he genuinely missed it.
He was just about to switch on the machine when the very person he had been wishing for entered the kitchen.
"You're here?" Isaac asked tiredly.
Benedict immediately turned around.
He hadn't heard Isaac approach. He was just as quiet as all the assassins in the hideout. Their silent footsteps were going to give him a heart attack one day.
He nodded, trying not to show how badly he had been startled.
"I was just about to make some coffee. Do you want one too?" he asked cautiously.
Isaac pulled a face.
"Thanks, but I don't drink filter coffee," he said, turning toward the barista machine.
The tone made it sound as though Benedict had offered him a cup of diluted dishwater.
An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
Benedict had no idea what to say.
He was just about to press the button on the coffee machine when Isaac let out an audible snort.
"I'll make you a proper coffee," he said without looking at him. "Still drinking the one-step-away-from-a-heart-attack blend?"
His words actually made Benedict smile.
"You remembered how I take my coffee?"
Isaac glanced at him briefly.
"You're one of the few people I've spent any significant amount of time with," he replied.
Benedict gave him a faint smile.
The conversation was going better than he had expected.
"In that case, I'd gladly take one. Thanks."
Isaac responded with a nod.
Benedict studied him while eating a cookie and watching him prepare the coffee. Isaac looked exhausted. The last time Benedict had seen him this pale and drained had been while he was recovering from the gunshot wound.
The one Benedict had inflicted on him.
They had already talked things through and agreed that they wanted nothing more to do with each other. It still hurt that Isaac had only wanted to use him, and yet Benedict's guilt toward him remained stronger.
Isaac's hands trembled slightly as he prepared the coffee. His expression, however, was the same one Benedict remembered: calm, reserved, and difficult to read.
The cookies were surprisingly good. They had exactly the right balance of sweetness—not so sweet that Benedict found them unpleasant. They were wonderfully light and carried a subtle bitter almond note.
An unusual flavor for cookies, but Benedict didn't mind. He reached for a second one.
"You look exhausted, Isaac," he said eventually. "Not getting enough sleep?"
He disliked the uncomfortable silence between them, especially when he was supposed to be keeping an eye on him for the next several hours.
"That's not your problem, Benedict," Isaac replied sharply.
Benedict paused at the sudden change in tone.
He wasn't used to hearing Isaac speak like that. Not after all the conversations they had shared over the years with the cool, detached young man.
He was about to apologize when Isaac finally sighed and turned toward him.
"That was uncalled for," he said. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay."
Benedict raised a placating hand.
"We don't have to talk or anything. I just wanted to—"
He stopped.
Wanted to what?
Be helpful?
Apologize?
Pretend everything between them was fine?
None of those quite fit.
He grabbed another cookie and ate it, if only to give himself something to do.
Isaac set the first cup of coffee on the counter and placed a second cup beneath the machine. Then he muttered a quiet curse, removed the water reservoir, rinsed it out, and refilled it with fresh water.
Absentmindedly, he took a sip from the first cup of coffee.
The moment he realized what he had done, he froze.
"Wait a moment. I'll make you a new one," he said apologetically. "And I really didn't mean to snap at you like that. I'm not exactly myself right now."
Benedict rubbed the back of his neck.
"You have every reason to be angry after what I did to you."
Isaac snorted.
"It's not like I was innocent in all of this," he replied, sounding mildly irritated.
He prepared the machine and finally pressed the button that started brewing the coffee. Then he looked over at Benedict.
"What's your plan for tonight? Noctis said you've been assigned to babysit me."
Benedict nodded.
"It's just a precaution. Vincent wants to make sure nobody hurts you while they're gone."
Another snort.
"As if I couldn't take care of myself," Isaac muttered in annoyance.
He picked up his cup and took a long drink.
"Hey... he's just worried about you," Benedict tried. "We don't have to spend more time together than necessary. You made your position pretty clear during our last conversation."
He wasn't happy about the situation either, but he was fully aware of how serious things had become after the three assassination attempts over the past few days.
Isaac rubbed a hand wearily across his face and then let out a quiet laugh.
"This whole situation is completely fucked up," he muttered. "You don't need to follow me around. I just have a few things to finish up, and then I'm going to bed. I still think it's better if we keep our distance."
"But Isaac—" Benedict began.
At that moment, Ashe appeared in the doorway.
And immediately, Benedict felt the atmosphere in the room change.
"Oh! Then I really did hear correctly!" she said, sounding noticeably more cheerful than she had that morning.
"Do you want a coffee too?" Isaac asked as he handed Benedict his cup.
Benedict grabbed another cookie, dipped it into the coffee, and popped it into his mouth. He suppressed a satisfied groan.
This was exactly what he needed right now.
Ashe shook her head.
"No thanks. I'm about to lie down again," she said. "But I'd really like one later!"
She seemed to have gotten some rest. Even though the pain and the recent assassination attempt were still visible, she was far more energetic than before.
Her gaze fell on the plate of cookies, and a pleased smile played across her lips. Yet a fleeting look of concern crossed her features.
"Have you tried the cookies? They turned out really well!" she said with a grin.
Her eyes shifted to Isaac.
"You probably won't like them, though. I baked almonds into them. Sorry, I didn't think you'd be eating any."
"I wasn't planning to," Isaac replied coolly. "As you know, I rarely eat sweets, and right now I'm absolutely not in the mood for them."
Ashe laughed in relief.
"Looks like I got lucky then."
Benedict could clearly see how defensive Isaac became whenever Ashe was around.
He really wasn't very good at hiding his feelings from other people.
Aside from his usual cold demeanor, of course—the one he showed to everyone except Noctis.
She turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Benedict.
"Do you like the cookies? If you do, eat as many as you want. I'd hate to watch them go stale."
Benedict sighed.
"With how good they smell, I doubt there'll be many left."
But then he stopped.
Ashe had baked the cookies?
The cookie in his hand slowly lowered.
A feeling of unease crept over him.
But he couldn't tell whether it was anything concrete or merely the general distrust that came from finding himself surrounded by assassins and killers.
He didn't know why Vincent suspected her, but to him she seemed like an ordinary young woman. Besides, she hadn't asked anything unusual or behaved strangely.
He blew on his coffee and then took a long sip.
Isaac's coffee was still the best he had ever tasted.
Ashe smiled at him.
"I hope so. It would be a shame to waste any of them. Well then, see you later!"
"Is she always like this?" Benedict asked.
Isaac didn't answer. He was staring at the doorway, lost in thought.
"Isaac?"
Isaac looked up as though he had just been pulled out of a daydream.
"What?" he asked with a confused blink. "No... normally she pours every form of caffeine she can get her hands on into herself."
Isaac sighed quietly.
"At least she's finally getting some rest. It was about time."
Benedict paused.
"Is she really?"
It seemed so mundane that it almost didn't appear suspicious, and yet his instincts were suddenly on edge.
Isaac nodded.
"Normally she practically rips the coffee cup out of my hands, even if I've already been drinking from it. Why?"
Benedict pulled out his phone and typed a message to Vincent.
Maybe it meant nothing, but Vincent had told him to report anything that stood out, and something about this felt off.
Ashe was just here with us in the kitchen. She baked cookies for everyone and turned down Isaac's coffee.
He sent the message just as a loud crash interrupted him.
Benedict spun around.
Isaac's coffee cup had slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor. Coffee spread across the tiles—though there couldn't have been more than half a cup left in it.
"Isaac?"
Isaac swayed. His hand shot forward and gripped the countertop. Within seconds, his face had turned deathly pale.
"Shit!"
Benedict was at his side immediately.
"Are you okay?"
His phone vibrated as a message came in, but Benedict had no time to read it. He caught Isaac just as he was about to collapse.
What the hell? He had seemed perfectly fine just moments ago!
"...I'm fine..." Isaac muttered. "...I just need to lie down for a minute."
"All of a sudden? You were fine a second ago. How can you suddenly—? Damn it! Hold on. I'm taking you to your room."
Isaac leaned heavily against him. He seemed to be having trouble staying awake.
"...I don't need your help..." he said, his words slightly slurred.
"Sure. Tell that to your grandmother," Benedict scoffed as he guided him toward the door.
Isaac snorted.
"Don't know her, as you're aware."
Benedict was about to reply when they heard a scream.
"What the—"
Then came the unmistakable sounds of a fight.
"Shit!" Benedict cursed.
This could not actually be happening.
He pulled Isaac along with him.
"Come on, we need to get out of here!"
Isaac looked up and nodded.
But they didn't even make it out of the kitchen. Three men in suits suddenly appeared in front of them. Two of them aimed their pistols at Benedict, while the third trained his weapon on Isaac.
His phone began to ring as someone tried to call him. But the situation hardly allowed him to answer.
His hand moved toward his pistol just as Isaac broke away from him and hurled a knife at one of the attackers. The blade buried itself directly in the throat of the man who had been aiming at Isaac. The assassin didn't even have time to cry out.
He collapsed instantly. Before Benedict had even managed to draw his own weapon, Isaac snatched it from him, shoved him aside, and fired at the two men with pistols.
Gunshots rang out loudly.
Benedict couldn't even tell who was firing and who had been hit. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins.
He pushed himself upright, cutting his hand on the shards of Isaac's shattered coffee cup scattered across the floor, and watched as Isaac took down the attackers despite his condition.
Isaac walked over to him and handed back his pistol. Then he staggered toward the assassins lying on the ground and collected a handgun and several knives from their bodies. He wiped one blade on his pants, braced himself against the doorframe, and peered into the hallway.
Even though he could barely stay on his feet, Isaac had eliminated the three attackers within seconds.
"Are you hurt?" Benedict asked cautiously.
Isaac shook his head.
"No."
He engaged the safety on the weapon in his hand, quickly checked the magazine, and raised it again.
"Come on. We need to get out of here."
"Isaac, you can barely stand," Benedict said quietly.
Isaac rubbed his eyes.
"I'll hold out until we're out of here."
Benedict nodded.
His breathing was heavy, even though he was used to handling situations like this with professional composure.
Isaac studied him.
"You okay? You look worse than I feel right now."
"I'm fine," Benedict replied. "Let's get out through the back entrance."
But they didn't even make it out of the kitchen. The sounds of fighting grew louder and seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. To make matters worse, more assassins appeared in their path. Just as Isaac moved to leave the kitchen, a sudden kick drove him backward. He slammed hip-first into the kitchen table, sending the plate of cookies crashing to the floor.
For a moment he clutched his stomach. Then he disengaged the safety and fired several shots toward the doorway. The attackers dove for cover. Whenever one of them dared to expose himself, Isaac fired again until his magazine finally ran dry.
He cursed and threw the pistol aside.
"Cover me!" he barked at Benedict before drawing his knife and charging forward.
Moments later, the scene dissolved into complete chaos. Bodies collided and struggled with one another in a tangled mass of violence. It was difficult to keep track of anything.
And breathing was becoming increasingly difficult. It felt as though something heavy were pressing down on Benedict's chest, making it impossible to draw a proper breath.
Later. He would deal with that problem later.
Isaac managed to knock one of the men off his feet with a brutal kick.
As Isaac ducked beneath an incoming attack, Benedict seized the opportunity and shot one of the men in the head. Blood splattered across the wall, and the body collapsed heavily to the floor.
If he didn't kill them, these men would kill them. But the stream of attackers seemed endless.
Isaac fought back with everything he had, but even a blind man could have seen that he was running out of strength. Benedict fired again, hitting one of the attackers in the shoulder just inches from Isaac's head. A moment later, he took a bullet to the thigh himself.
Damn it. He had almost hit Isaac.
Then another gunshot rang out. Isaac doubled over, clutching his side. One of the assassins immediately drove a kick into the fresh wound. Isaac cried out. Another kick followed. Harder than the first. The force practically hurled him backward. He lost his footing and slammed the back of his head against the table.
The sound made Benedict's blood run cold.
Without another sound, Isaac collapsed to the floor.
Benedict, meanwhile, tried to shoot the attackers. A hollow click informed him that his gun was empty. He cursed and reached for his knife. One of the men came at him and punched him in the face. Benedict drove the knife straight into the man's chest.
The next thing he felt was an explosion of pain in his left shoulder. He tore the blade free from the man in front of him. He was about to charge the next attacker when he suddenly couldn't breathe. He froze mid-motion, dropped to his knees, and clutched at his throat.
Through his blurred vision, he saw one of the men bend down and lift Isaac up. As if he were nothing more than luggage.
"Is he still alive?" a blond man in a suit asked as he entered the kitchen.
Benedict struggled to raise his head.
A blond man in an immaculate suit stepped into the room.
The man carrying Isaac nodded.
"He's alive. Although he took quite a beating."
"Good." The blond man smiled in satisfaction. He brushed a bloodstained strand of hair from Isaac's forehead. "I told you I'd get you. I always get what I want. And thanks to you, the entire world is now open to me."
He wiped his hand clean with a handkerchief and turned to his men.
"Take him with us. Leave the dead where they are. We're leaving."
Benedict collapsed onto his side. Every breath felt like a battle. With the last of his strength, he reached out toward Isaac.
"...l-leave... him..."
His fingers closed around empty air.
"...alone..."
The blond man looked at him and offered him a triumphant smile. He crouched down in front of Benedict, and only then did Benedict realize who he was looking at.
"I'm sorry, Officer, but I'm taking him with me," Levi said in a charming tone. "Don't worry. I'll take very good care of him." His smile widened slightly. "Though it really shouldn't concern you. The poison is going to kill you slowly and painfully."
He placed a cookie beside Benedict.
"Here. This should speed up your suffering considerably," Levi said as he rose to his feet. "Although I don't know whether you'll already be dead by the time it takes effect."
He gave a casual wave.
"Well then, until the next life."
With that, Levi disappeared, taking Isaac and his men with him.
Benedict let out a strangled curse. His hands trembling, he fished his phone out of his pocket. Every movement felt sluggish. He missed the buttons several times while trying to call Vincent, his vision repeatedly blurring, but eventually he managed it and let the phone fall beside his head. Each movement felt as though he were dragging a car behind him.
"Ben?"
Vincent's voice came through the speaker. He sounded worried.
Every breath was agony.
"...come..."
Benedict barely managed to whisper the word.
Nothing else would come out. He heard Vincent shout something, but he could no longer make out the words.
Breathing was all that mattered now, no matter how difficult it was.
Vincent knew. And he was probably already on his way.
Benedict just had to hold on...