Chapter 10 — The Shadow of Vengeance
The warehouse had fallen into a tense, suffocating silence. Ken's heart pounded so loudly it seemed to echo off the cold concrete walls. The faint flicker of the overhead bulb cast long, trembling shadows across the room. Chris Tarner's body lay at Ken's feet, and Hansi, frozen, watched with wide, terrified eyes, unable to speak. The air felt thick, heavy with the aftermath of violence.
Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. Each step it took seemed measured, deliberate, a predator's grace wrapped in human form. His silhouette was sharp, angular, almost unreal against the dim light, cutting through the darkness like a blade.
"I didn't expect the White Wolf to be this… merciless," the man said, his voice calm, controlled, almost teasing.
A chill ran down Ken's spine, and he felt his body tighten. The aura emanating from this man was familiar yet terrifying—a deadly blend of authority and danger that made Ken's pulse spike. For a moment, he struggled to breathe. The name clawed at his mind.
"Ezekiel Torne… the Black Angel," Ken whispered under his breath, unable to tear his gaze away.
Hansi's gaze remained fixed on Tarner's body, her hands trembling violently. Her breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. The warehouse seemed to shrink around them, every sound muffled, every heartbeat amplified in the oppressive silence.
Ken's own hands shook. The reality of what he had done—what he had been forced to do—was hitting him all at once. A wave of disbelief and guilt crashed over him. The memories of his own life felt fragmented, slipping through his mind like sand. He wiped a tear from his cheek, and another followed.
Am I… becoming a monster? he thought, his chest tightening.
Eloïse stepped forward cautiously, her hand brushing his shoulder. Her voice was soft but firm, a tether pulling him back from the edge.
"This isn't your fault, Ken," she said. "What you did… it was to honor your friend, to protect his memory. Chris got what he deserved."
Ken inhaled deeply, trying to calm the storm within him. He met Ezekiel's eyes, noting the faint, calculating smile playing across his face. Satisfaction, patience, and a subtle amusement danced in his gaze.
"Impressive," Ezekiel said, advancing slightly. "Your coordination… your instincts… you will make them cry in the end."
Ken's fists clenched, the muscle memory of violence coiling in his body. Every movement Ezekiel made, every syllable he spoke, was a test, a trap that Ken needed to anticipate and navigate.
"What are you doing here?" Ken asked, voice firm, controlled, but his mind racing with every possible angle.
Ezekiel crossed his arms, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
"I orchestrated it all," he said calmly. "Every detail. I sent a photo of Eloïse in front of Boas, tied up with Tarner—I knew he would take her. I laid the groundwork, then I called Ayato… or rather, you, to make sure you'd respond. And here we are. The outcome was inevitable."
Ken's chest tightened. He had to remain silent. Ezekiel assumed he was speaking to Ayato, unaware that Ken occupied the body of his brother.
"Who are you really? What do you want?" Eloïse demanded, eyes sharp, unafraid.
Ezekiel stopped, locking his gaze on her. There was an intensity in his eyes that made the air itself feel charged.
"My name is Ezekiel Torne," he said finally. "And what I want is simple… vengeance for my little brother… Ken."
A shiver ran down Ken's spine. The pieces began to fall into place with a terrifying clarity. Every event, every manipulation, every shadow that had haunted his life… Ezekiel, his brother, was alive, and he had orchestrated all of this.
Ken inhaled, fists tightening. The shadow of vengeance and determination wrapped around him like armor. He needed to stay calm, to play the role of Ayato while keeping his own mind sharp, ready to protect Hansi and Eloïse, and to honor Ken's memory.
"Now that you know…" Ezekiel's voice dropped, heavy and commanding. "It's time to punish those who destroyed our lives. We will cleanse this world."
The silence that followed was thick, oppressive. Hearts beat in unison, fast and loud in the confined space. Every person in the room sensed the magnitude of the moment. This was only the beginning, the calm before the storm of blood and justice that Ezekiel intended to unleash.
Ken observed Ezekiel closely, calculating, strategizing. He had the appearance of Ayato, but his mind was Ken's—precise, focused, unyielding. The White Wolf was awake, aware of every movement, every shadow, every whisper.
Hansi's trembling hand found his, a silent plea, a tether to humanity. Eloïse's eyes, wide and fearful, searched for a sign, a hint of mercy, reassurance. Ken's jaw tightened as he absorbed the weight of responsibility.
Ezekiel took another step forward, deliberate, measured, each movement radiating power and threat. His voice was calm, almost soothing, but laced with steel:
"The world is unclean. Corruption is everywhere. Betrayal lies behind every corner. Those who thought themselves untouchable… will fall. And the White Wolf—he is the instrument of reckoning."
Ken's mind whirred. Every syllable, every gesture, every pause was a puzzle. He had to anticipate Ezekiel's plan, protect the innocents, and stay ahead of a brother who was both ally and dangerous force.
A sudden gust of wind blew through the broken panels of the warehouse, rattling the metal walls and sending a shiver down Ken's spine. The distant hum of the harbor seemed to grow louder, merging with the quickened rhythm of his own heartbeat.
"Do you understand?" Ezekiel asked, tilting his head slightly, eyes gleaming. "The game has begun. Every action will be calculated. Every misstep… punished."
Ken met his gaze steadily. "I understand." His voice was calm, but inside, every nerve screamed in anticipation. He felt the weight of the coming battle, the storm of retribution that Ezekiel intended. He would have to be clever, ruthless, and precise.
Ezekiel's lips curved into a faint smile. "Good. Then let us begin. The world will tremble under our judgment, and the names of those who wronged us… will be erased from memory."
The White Wolf felt the surge of adrenaline, the edge of power coursing through him. He was ready. Every muscle, every thought, every instinct was attuned to the task ahead. He would navigate the lies, the traps, the shadows—and strike when the moment was right.
The warehouse seemed to shrink further, closing around them. Every sound—the dripping water from the ceiling, the scrape of metal underfoot, the distant cry of a gull from the harbor—was magnified. Ken's senses were alive, every detail recorded.
He turned to Hansi and Eloïse, their hands clutching his, seeking protection. He nodded slightly, reassuring them with the smallest gesture. "Stay close. The danger is far from over."
Ezekiel retreated slightly into the shadows, observing, calculating, a predator awaiting the perfect moment. Ken's eyes followed him, unwavering, determination burning behind them.
> I will protect them. I will survive. And I will hunt those who deserve punishment. The White Wolf will not falter.
The night outside pressed against the warehouse walls, silent, vast, infinite. But inside, the storm had begun. And the White Wolf—Ken in Ayato's body—was ready to face it.
> The reckoning is only beginning… and the world will remember the vengeance of the White Wolf