Chapter 9 — The White Wolf Returns
Night had fallen long ago when Ken, still inhabiting Ayato's body, guided Hana back into the Montclair residence. The air inside felt heavy with silence, as if the house itself held its breath. Hana's small, trembling hands clutched the edge of her blanket as she sank into her bed, eyes swollen from worry, lips quivering with unspoken fear. She barely had time to whisper a soft "goodnight" before sleep overtook her, her fragile body curling under the covers.
Ken lingered in the hallway, his phone in hand, fingers drumming restlessly against the smooth screen. He had tried calling Yuri countless times, each attempt ending in the same result: voicemail, silence, the dull tone of rejection.
"Come on… pick up," he muttered, frustration vibrating through his chest. The echo of his own voice seemed too loud in the empty corridor.
In the living room, Hansi paced like a caged animal. Her movements were jerky, erratic. Her eyes, red and raw, darted to every shadow as though the darkness itself might conceal the man who had taken Eloïse.
"Calm down, Hansi," Ken said, placing a firm hand on her shoulder. "Tell me everything—slowly, clearly. What happened?"
Her voice cracked as she recounted the events. "We were at Eloïse's… watching a movie. Nothing unusual. Then—someone knocked at the door. I thought it was a neighbor at first… but when I opened it…" She shivered violently. "He was tall. Scar across his cheek… armed. He demanded to speak with Eloïse. She panicked, but… she followed him without resistance. And then… they were gone."
Her voice broke, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. Ken's grip tightened gently on her shoulders, grounding her.
"You did the right thing coming here. We'll find her. I promise you."
Meanwhile, in the grand study of the Montclair estate, Bill Montclair's fist slammed into the oak table. His rage filled the room, his voice booming across the stone walls.
"Ariel! You stay with Ayato. Deploy every available man across the city. We will find Eloïse before dawn!"
Ariel's gaze flicked toward Ken, and though his response was silent, Ken sensed the scrutiny beneath it—measured, wary, questioning. Even in impersonating Ayato, he could feel the judgment pressing down on him.
Suddenly, Ken's phone vibrated sharply in his hand. An unknown number. He answered instinctively.
"Who's this?" he demanded.
A deep, muffled voice responded, the words laced with menace:
"You're looking for the girl? Then come get her yourself. She's with Chris Tarner. One of the men who killed your friend. You know him, don't you?"
Ken felt the blood drain from his face. Chris Tarner… one of the four responsible for Ken's death. One of the men who had stolen his life.
"Where?" Ken's voice was a razor, cutting through the silence.
A sinister chuckle came down the line. "Old warehouse at the port, Zone 7. Come alone… White Wolf."
The line went dead. The echo of those words left a ringing in his ears. Ken's pulse surged. He didn't hesitate. He grabbed his coat and strode to the door.
"Hansi… you stay outside. Understood?"
Her hesitation was brief. She nodded, her fear mingling with trust.
---
The warehouse loomed ahead like a slumbering beast. Rusted metal walls groaned with the wind, and shadows stretched across the cracked pavement. Ken's boots whispered against the wet concrete, each step deliberate, silent. The night air carried the tang of salt from the nearby harbor and the distant hum of the city, yet here it felt as though the world had narrowed to this one derelict structure.
Inside, a single flickering bulb cast jagged shadows across the walls. Eloïse sat bound to a chair, her dress torn, eyes wide and shimmering with fear. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to control her trembling. Behind her, the broad silhouette of a man blocked the light—Chris Tarner, standing like a sentinel of menace.
Ken moved with lethal grace, each step silent. In one fluid motion, he swung the stock of his weapon, striking Tarner with precise force. The man crumpled, unconscious, and Ken rushed to Eloïse. Hands steady, he untied her ropes, his movements swift but careful.
"It's over… you're safe now," Ken murmured, his voice low and steady, though adrenaline surged through his veins like wildfire.
Eloïse blinked, confusion and relief warring across her face. "Ayato…? What are you doing here?"
No time for explanations. Tarner groaned, returning to consciousness. Ken's eyes narrowed. In a flash, he yanked the man toward a pillar and bound him tightly.
"Why did you take her? Who sent you?" Ken's words were sharp, precise, a predator questioning its prey.
Tarner smirked, lips split, a trail of blood glistening in the dim light. "You haven't changed, have you, Ayato? Always playing the hero."
Ken's fists clenched, veins standing out against his skin. "Answer me."
Tarner laughed, cruel and hollow. "Or what? You'll kill me? Like that poor boy—Ken. Remember him?"
Ken froze. His jaw tightened. The memories—Ken's death, the screams, the betrayal—flashed like lightning. Tarner's mockery cut deeper than any blade.
Then, one clean shot. The sound echoed like thunder through the empty warehouse. A single, sharp report.
Tarner fell, his skull fractured, a frozen smirk lingering on his lifeless lips. Ken stood motionless, breathing hard, hands trembling as he gripped the weapon.
"May he burn in hell," he whispered, a dark promise carried on his breath.
Hansi, drawn by the shot, stumbled inside. Her eyes widened at the sight: the smoking gun, the lifeless body at his feet. She recoiled, horror etched into every line of her face.
"Ayato… what… what have you done?"
"He deserved it," Ken replied, his voice cold, detached, but burning with a calculated fury.
A slow, deliberate clap echoed from the shadows.
Clap… clap… clap…
A figure emerged, stepping from the darkness with unnerving elegance. The man's smile was thin, sardonic, deliberate. Each step was measured, almost theatrical.
"Impressive," the figure murmured. "The White Wolf has not disappeared entirely."
Ken's eyes narrowed, muscles coiled like springs. "You… who are you?"
The man said nothing, letting the silence stretch between them, heavy and suffocating. His gaze was a blade, cutting through the tension, measuring, probing.
In that moment, Ken felt it: the rules of this night had shifted. The threat was no longer straightforward; it had become a puzzle, a psychological trap designed to test his mind and heart as much as his body. Eloïse trembled beside him, sensing the danger, while Hansi hovered at the edge of the warehouse, frozen by fear.
Ken's pulse raced. He studied the intruder's stance, his expression, the faint glint of something in his pocket—perhaps a weapon, perhaps a trap. The shadows themselves seemed alive, clinging to the walls, echoing with whispers of the past: screams, gunshots, memories of betrayal.
"You should know," the stranger said finally, his voice soft, almost casual, "that nothing is as simple as it seems. The people you trust… the people you think are allies… they are all pieces in a game far larger than your vengeance."
Ken's mind raced. Each syllable was loaded, each pause a challenge. He didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on the gun, body coiled like a predator ready to strike.
> Every move counts. Every second matters. Survive… and strike when they least expect it.
The warehouse seemed to shrink around them, every sound magnified: the drip of water from a broken pipe, the scrape of metal underfoot, the faint hiss of the distant harbor. Ken's senses sharpened, every nerve ending alive with anticipation.
Eloïse's hand found his, a trembling anchor. Ken squeezed gently, grounding her, but he did not allow himself distraction. He was Ayato now, the White Wolf, a weapon honed by vengeance, patience, and deadly precision.
The man in the shadows smiled again, a predator assessing another predator. "The hunt is far from over," he said, turning slightly, disappearing partially into the darkness. "And the White Wolf… will soon learn that not all battles can be won with brute force."
Ken's eyes followed him, calculating, planning. Every detail would be remembered, every weakness exploited, every step anticipated.
> I will find her captors. I will protect her. I will survive. And I will hunt them down—one by one.
As the stranger's silhouette melted into the darkness, the White Wolf's eyes burned with determination. The night was far from over, and the storm of vengeance had only just begun.
Outside, Hansi drew a deep, shuddering breath, and Eloïse clung to Ken with a quiet sob. He lowered his gaze to them, mask of Ayato firmly in place, and whispered:
"Stay close. We're not safe yet."
The warehouse was silent again, but the tension remained, a living, breathing entity coiled around them. Somewhere in the shadows, enemies watched. Somewhere in the night, allies waited. And Ken—White Wolf, survivor, avenger—prepared for the long hunt ahead.
> The game has begun. And this time, I will not lose.