The night was too quiet. No traffic, no yelling, just the kind of silence that made your ears ring. The building smelled like mold, and the hallway light flickered every few seconds like it was scared of staying on too long.
Raphael stood hunched near the stairwell on the third floor, hoodie drawn, gloves tight. Knife in hand. His fingers clenched and unclenched around the handle like it was a goddamn lifeline.
The target lived at the end of the hallway.
Kaira. Twenty-three. Bright, bubbly, famous as hell online. The kind of girl who made grown men feel noticed just by smiling into a webcam. Until she didn't. Until someone got ignored too long.
Now she was marked.
Some sick f**k paid XUX good money for her death, and Raphael, barely two jobs in, was sent to do it. His first kill.
The plan was simple. Knock, stab, vanish. He'd been replaying it in his head like a script.
But nothing prepared him for the footsteps behind him.
He turned, and there he was.
Daniel.
Hoodie. School bag. Same tired, bored look — except his eyes widened the moment they saw Raphael crouched like a feral animal in the dark.
Raphael blinked.
And then everything inside him snapped.
"…No. No f**king way."
Daniel didn't move.
"You're not—" Raphael's breath caught, his voice rising. "You—You f**king bitch!"
Daniel dropped his bag.
Raphael's hand shook. The knife rattled against his grip.
Daniel stayed still, metal water bottle in hand, fingers tight. He didn't even flinch.
"You ran!" Raphael shouted, stepping forward, his voice trembling, eyes wide. "You F**KING RAN! YOU THINK THAT MAKES YOU A SURVIVOR?!"
Daniel opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"You just won't stay down, huh? Just keep showing up like a damn curse."
"Put the knife down," Daniel said quietly.
Raphael laughed. Loud. Empty. Unhinged.
"You gonna tell me what to do now? What are you, a f**king hero?!" He jabbed the blade forward. "You think I won't finish it this time?!"
Daniel took a step back. His back hit the wall. His throat was tight.
"I'm not doing this with you," Daniel muttered.
"Oh, we're f**king doing this."
Raphael lunged.
The first swipe was sloppy — a diagonal arc meant to scare, not kill — but Daniel dodged, barely, swinging his bottle hard and catching Raphael's wrist with a metallic crack.
Raphael screamed.
"You piece of sh*t!"
He slashed again, wild, reckless, untrained, emotion clouding everything. The blade grazed Daniel's arm — thin line of blood, stinging.
Daniel stumbled sideways, breath sharp, grip tightening.
He raised the bottle again.
"Stay back!"
"You gonna hit me again?" Raphael spat, eyes crazed. "Go ahead! Hit me like you hit John, like you hit Farrel's name into the f**king floor!"
Daniel's heart dropped. "You—"
Raphael laughed again, louder this time, like his brain was unraveling.
"Yeah. We know. We all f**king know, Daniel. Every move you've made since that night's been tracked."
"Then why are you here?" Daniel snapped.
"I was here for someone else. But now?" He took another step. "Now I think I'll kill you instead. Bonus."
Daniel's breath hitched. He stepped forward instead of back.
"You're not thinking. You're not even aiming."
"Oh yeah?" Raphael's arms twitched. "You think I need aim to cut you open?"
"You're shaking," Daniel said, eyes locking on him. "You're scared."
Raphael's whole body jerked like he was about to scream again — but instead, he roared, charging forward.
Daniel raised the bottle just in time — blocked the blade again, side-swing this time, dented the bottle even more. But Raphael tackled him to the floor, both of them crashing into the wall.
They struggled — Daniel kicked him in the gut, hard, but Raphael's elbow caught his jaw, and the knife came dangerously close to his ribs.
Then—
A voice.
Crackling through Raphael's earpiece.
"Raphael. Pull out. Now."
He froze for half a second, panting.
"No," he growled. "Not yet. I've got him."
"You don't," the voice snapped. "He'll f**king kill you. Retreat."
"Him? Someone like him? will kill me?"
"Not him, someone's coming!"
"F**K OFF—"
"Retreat now or you're f**king dead."
Raphael stared down at Daniel, face twisted in fury.
Daniel's lip was split. Blood dripped down his chin. He looked barely conscious.
But the look in his eyes—
It was focused. Cold.
The same look as that day in the classroom.
The same boy who jumped through a window after getting beat half to death.
Raphael hesitated. The knife trembled in his hand.
"Sh*t," he breathed.
And that's when a shadow moved at the top of the stairs.
"HEY!"
Before he could even turn—
A punch.
Not just a hit. A f**king meteor.
Knuckle met jaw, and Raphael's entire body spun sideways midair before slamming into the wall. His head snapped back, eyes rolling up.
He dropped.
Unconscious.
The man who hit him stood over the body. Tall. Black-haired. Sweaty. Breath controlled.
Ruben.
He looked down at the fallen guy, then turned slightly and finally noticed Daniel on the floor.
Curled up.
Clutching his head.
Shaking.
Ruben's brows furrowed.
He didn't recognize the kid, didn't even know what just went down fully, but he could tell one thing—
The boy looked like he was broken.
Daniel's back was against the wall now. Hands on his ears. Head lowered.
Then it hit him.
The blood on his hands.
The scar on his palm pulsing like it had reopened.
The flashbacks crashing in without mercy.
Behind the school. The man. The pain. The screaming. His body going cold. Thinking it was the end. Eira's mask. The silence. The way no one came for a full five minutes after he collapsed.
He rocked slightly.
Eyes red.
Lips trembling.
"Make it stop," he whispered. "Please make it stop."
He was still whispering it when he stumbled to his feet, legs wobbling, and grabbed his key with bloody fingers, pushed open the door to his apartment and slammed it shut behind him like the world would come bursting through if he didn't.
He didn't even notice Ruben still standing there.
Didn't hear him say, "...What the hell did he go through?"
Ruben stared at the door a second longer.
Then turned.
He looked at the body again.
Then walked across the hallway and knocked gently on Kaira's door.
It opened just a crack.
"Ruben?" she asked, worried.
"Yeah. It's handled," he muttered.
"Was someone… here?"
He looked over his shoulder, saw the faint smear of blood across the wall, the dropped knife, the dented water bottle.
His voice lowered.
"Someone tried. But they didn't get far."
[Inside Daniel's Room]
It was dark.
He hadn't turned on the light.
He sat on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, head down.
His side hurt. His mouth tasted like iron. His hands were stained red.
But it was the silence that hurt most..