The lights of the Rein house were visible to everyone in the neighborhood that night. Their tall walls were decorated with shining lights, almost like it was a wedding. Everyone had been invited.
Ameera looked at the glowing estate and muttered to her parents,
"Geez… looks like someone's happy."
Her mother sighed. "Don't talk about the hosts like that. They invited us. You're an adult now — speak like one."
"Okay, Mom, calm down," she said, rolling her eyes.
Her father chuckled softly.
Ever since Lucien's disappearance, Ameera carried a deep dislike toward the Rein household. For all their wealth, for all their power, they had never once organized a proper search for their own son. She always felt she cared more for him than they ever did.
The only reason she still visited was Lucien's mother — the woman who held her like a daughter, the woman with whom she shared the same ache of losing him.
Elaine, on the other hand, was a sister to her — warmth, comfort, laughter. Two different bonds, each precious in their own way.
But the men of the house…
Ameera hated them — the stern father and the two older brothers.
In her eyes, they had never done enough.
The youngest boy was the only exception; she loved him like the little brother she never got to have.
Ameera walked through the gate as the guards welcomed her in. Inside, the mansion buzzed with guests — neighbors, relatives, familiar faces.
And then she spotted her.
Ms. D'Souza.
Ameera almost groaned. Lord forbid…
But something was off about the woman.
She wasn't loud.
She wasn't complaining.
She wasn't forcing conversations.
She stood stiff, uneasy, her eyes darting around like she was avoiding a memory that refused to leave her alone.
Ameera instantly recognized the expression —
the same shaken look Ms. D'Souza wore after that strange boy snapped her confidence with a single cold stare.
Ameera glanced away with a small sigh.
Weird woman, she thought, moving deeper into the crowd.
As she moved through the crowd, Ameera tried her best to stay polite. People kept stopping her every few steps — aunties asking about her trip, uncles asking about her studies, older women fussing over every tiny detail.
"Oh dear, your flight is tonight, no?"
"Yes, aunty. Tonight."
"You finished packing? Did you double-check?"
"Yes, yes… everything's done."
"Your father is dropping you, right?"
"Yeah, he is. Don't worry."
She forced a smile for every question.
Inside? She wanted to scream.
Then the men showed up.
Some respectful.
Most not.
"You're leaving tonight?"
"You look really nice today."
"Need a drop to the airport?"
"Wanna hang out before you go?"
"Can I get your number? Just to keep in touch?"
Ameera kept her voice calm and polite:
"No."
"No, thank you."
"My father is dropping me."
"I'm rushing."
"Please move."
In her head?
I swear… I hate men.
She escaped as soon as she could and finally spotted them:
Aunty Marianne.
And Elaine.
Lucien's mother and sister.
Ameera walked straight to them, relief softening her face instantly.
"Aunty," she greeted, hugging Marianne gently.
"Oh, sweetheart, thank you for coming," Marianne said warmly. "Especially when your flight is tonight. You must be exhausted."
"I'll sleep in the car," Ameera smiled. "Dad's dropping me after this."
Elaine hugged her tight.
"You leave tonight and didn't even come to bother me earlier?"
"I was drowning in packing," Ameera said dramatically.
They talked — soft, familiar conversation, the kind that always calmed her down.
Ameera looked around.
"Where's Uncle Aldric?"
"Late," Marianne sighed.
"And so are Reggie and Rowan," Elaine added.
Ameera and Elaine said it together:
"Typical."
They burst out laughing.
Ameera's eyes softened as she watched her mother and Marianne chatting happily, while she played with Reggie's little kid for a moment.
Then she spotted Lex.
She walked over and ruffled his hair.
"Hey, champ. How are you?"
"Bro—Ameera, stop!" Lex groaned. "I'm not a kid anymore! You're like Lucien—m—"
He shut his mouth too fast.
Ameera's smile froze.
"What do you mean?"
"You… you were a toddler when he went missing."
"I— I meant it as a joke," Lex said quickly.
"Don't joke about Lucien," she said — firm, but gentle.
"Sorry," he muttered, remembering his mother's warning not to say that name today.
Ameera moved on, drifting through the party — talking to neighborhood girls, avoiding the ones trying to flirt with her, listening to gossip, keeping her mood steady.
Then she saw movement at the entrance.
Reggie and Rowan walked in.
Ameera rolled her eyes mentally.
Bro… at least don't be late to your own party.
But they looked… different.
Lighter. Happier.
And a moment later, Aldric stepped in — tall, imposing, always cold.
Except tonight… even he looked warmer.
Just a little.
Everyone seemed happier than usual.
Ameera frowned.
Why?
Is Elaine pregnant? No… she would've told me first.
Is Rowan getting married?
What's going on?
Nothing made sense.
Aldric walked through the crowd, greeting guests automatically as he went.
"Good evening."
"Ah, welcome."
"Yes, enjoy yourselves."
But his eyes kept darting around the hall, searching for someone.
He finally reached Marianne.
He leaned toward her.
"Mary… Lucien isn't downstairs yet? I wanted to introduce him to the guests. Tell him to get dressed and come down fast."
Marianne blinked in confusion.
"What? I thought he was at the factory with you," she said.
Aldric's face tightened immediately.
"What? No. He left hours ago."
He shook his head. "As a matter of fact, I made him leave early. Just in case I got delayed or something happened at work."
Marianne's expression shifted — fear creeping in.
Elaine stepped closer.
"Dad… you don't think he got lost, right?"
"No," Aldric said firmly.
But there was tension under his voice. "Even after all these years, his memory is sharp. He wouldn't lose his way."
Ameera, watching from across the room, saw their suddenly tense faces.
What the hell did Uncle Aldric just say to scare her like that?
she thought, unease prickling up her spine.
Meanwhile, Reggie and Rowan continued chatting with guests, smiling and guiding conversations like nothing was wrong — controlling the room perfectly.
On the surface, it looked like any normal Rein family party.
But it wasn't.
This was supposed to be a return celebration — for the son lost twelve years ago.
And he was nowhere to be seen.
Night wind whipped across his face as the bike sped through the empty road, engine humming beneath him. Streetlights passed in streaks of pale yellow.
The voice inside him stirred lazily.
You're late.
Lucien smirked slightly, eyes on the road.
"Yeah, yeah. They'll live."
The bike surged forward, the darkness stretching endlessly ahead.
Night wind tore past Lucien as he rode, the engine humming under him like a living beast.
"Despite there being nothing important today…" Lucien said, leaning into a turn, "I wanted to show you around town. Let's know our base of operation first."
The fuck do you mean base of operation? the voice questioned.
"We're operating here," Lucien shrugged.
Operating WHAT? Nobody told you that.
"I'm just saying," Lucien replied, smirking as he twisted the throttle, "if push comes to pull, we should know the area."
The old road stretched ahead — long, cracked, forgotten. Forest on both sides. Darkness swallowing the path.
"This road…" Lucien muttered, "I used to force Dad to take it when I was a kid. It was longer, but it felt so dramatic. Like we were entering a different world."
Now it looked like it had been abandoned for years —
asphalt broken, gravel loose, roots tearing through the surface, signboards half-eaten by rust.
Lucien sped up, the engine screaming beautifully.
The air around him split, a vacuum forming behind him as he sliced through the night.
"Ten minutes away," he muttered.
Then—
A flash.
A thin glint across the road.
Lucien's eyes focused instantly.
…A tripwire.
"Lucy, careful—!" the voice shouted.
But Lucien was already reacting.
His foot smashed the disc brake.
His fingers crushed the front brake.
The bike screeched sideways, sparks snapping along the cracked road.
He kicked the bike lower, guiding it into a controlled skid.
At the same moment:
He reached down, snatched a loose rock from the road, and shoved it perfectly into the swingarm gap — the exact point where metal would've scraped the ground and destroyed the bike's underbody.
The rock hit in place —
CRUNCH
—slowing the skid just enough.
Lucien twisted the handlebars and dragged the bike upright again, stopping only inches before the deadly wire.
He exhaled once.
"…That was close."
Lucien steadied the bike upright again, ran his hand across the tank, checked the brakes, the exhaust, the handlebar alignment.
"Still good," he muttered.
The voice sighed.
Unbelievable. You slid across broken asphalt and this is your priority?
Lucien ignored it and walked toward the tripwire.
He crouched, examining the tension, knot, and height.
Reinforced steel.
Pulled tight.
Aimed right at chest height.
He exhaled.
"…If this hit someone at full speed, their ribs would be confetti," he muttered. "And we're two hours from any living soul."
He stood up slowly.
Hands in pockets.
Back turned to the forest.
Voice flat, emotionless:
"Come out."
Silence.
Then harsher:
"I know you're there, fuckface. Don't make me drag you out of the bushes."
Branches cracked.
Leaves rustled.
Eight figures stepped out, spreading around him.
Metal pipes.
Iron rods.
Tire irons.
Knives.
Crowbars.
Rusty tools repurposed into blunt weapons.
All pointed loosely in his direction.
Lucien didn't even flinch.
"Good," he muttered. "At least you saved me the trouble of counting."
The leader smirked, twirling a tire iron.
"Well, well. Kid's got a mouth on him."
Lucien pointed lazily at the tripwire behind him.
"Before we start… explain this genius plan to me."
The thugs exchanged looks.
"What plan?" the leader shrugged.
Lucien sighed — long and annoyed.
"You dumbasses set a high-tension wire on a downhill road. If I hit it at full speed, the bike would be in twelve pieces. How the fuck are you making profit with the vehicle in SHAMBLES?"
They blinked.
One thug lifted his crowbar.
"…We take whatever's left?"
Lucien stared at him for three seconds straight.
Then he nodded slowly.
"So not only are you criminals," he said, "you're financially illiterate criminals."
The leader stepped up, face tightening.
"You got a problem with how we do business?"
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"Yeah. Mainly the 'no brain cells' part."
His eyes sharpened.
"And also that I'm in a hurry."
He cracked his knuckles once — the sound echoing through the empty road.
"Alright," Lucien said quietly.
"Now I'm ready to deal with you idiots."
The leader rushed in first, metal pipe raised.
The other seven charged right after him.
Lucien didn't move at first.
Then—
A single shift of his weight.
His leg snapped out like a piston —
CRACK!
His heel slammed into the leader's shin.
The man collapsed to one knee instantly, screaming.
Lucien didn't look at him.
He was already moving.
A spin-kick snapped up, slamming into the wrist of the nearest thug on his left.
The knife flew.
Not into the ground.
Not into a tree.
But straight into another thug's throat.
SHHK—
That man dropped instantly, clutching his neck, blood soaking the dirt.
The rest froze for a heartbeat, eyes flicking from the fallen bodies to Lucien and back again.
Then all eyes went to Lucien.
He stood there—
calm, cold, bored.
He initiated the next movement himself.
Lucien walked toward the leader, who was trying to stand but collapsing every time his broken leg shook under him.
Every time he tried to rise, pain shot up his body.
Lucien grabbed the man's head by the hair with one hand and yanked it forward—
CRACK!
His knee collided with the leader's face.
The leader flew backward, landing flat on the gravel.
Lucien placed his foot over the man's left ankle.
And twisted.
SNAP.
The ankle folded sideways like wet paper.
The leader didn't even scream — he passed out instantly.
Lucien didn't look at him again.
He was already walking toward the incoming prey.
One thug screamed and charged with a knife.
Lucien exhaled.
His foot slammed into the man's solar plexus — air burst out of him in a choked gasp.
Lucien snatched the knife mid-fall and spun.
Three quick kicks —
one to the ribs,
one to the jaw,
one to the temple —
and then he drove the knife straight into the man's brainstem.
The body dropped like a puppet with its strings cut.
Lucien didn't pause.
He dashed at the next man—
jumping, rotating once in the air—
his heel smashing into the thug's hip with enough force to make bone crunch.
Before the man could fall, Lucien stabbed him cleanly at the nape, killing him instantly.
He bent down, picked up the fallen man's tire iron, and vanished into the shadows for a second—
moving so fast the remaining thugs lost sight of him.
"What the—? Where'd he go!?"
"Spread out!"
"Search that fucker! CAREFUL—he isn't normal!"
The remaining four thugs backed away from the bodies, voices shaking, weapons trembling in their hands.
"D–don't split up!"
"Stick together!"
"Where the hell did he go!?"
"He's fast—he's fucking fast—!"
Their footsteps crunched on gravel as they turned in a slow, panicked circle, trying to watch every angle at once.
The man farthest on the edge swallowed hard, gripping his crowbar tighter.
"I…I don't like this. Spread the light—someone shine it—"
A cold whisper of wind passed behind him.
He stiffened.
"…Guys…?"
He didn't get to finish.
A pale hand rose from the darkness behind him—
and clamped around his face.
SCHHK—!
Lucien dragged him backward into the shadows so fast the man's feet left the ground.
"AAAA—!"
His scream cut off instantly.
The remaining three snapped their heads toward the sound—
But nothing.
Just darkness.
And silence.
"W-What the—where did he go!?"
"Bro he just vanished with him—"
"FUCK! Stay back-to-back!"
The last three formed a sloppy three-point stance, backs touching, weapons raised, breathing hard.
The forest went quiet.
Then—
A shadow rose in the middle of their triangle.
Lucien stood up slowly, head tilted, eyes calm and dead.
His voice dripped mockery:
"Come at me, retard."
They didn't even get time to think.The thug on Lucien's left screamed and swung a metal pipe.
Lucien stepped inside the swing, grabbed the man's wrist, and twisted—
CRACK!
The bone snapped through the skin.
The man screamed.
Lucien shoved the broken arm forward—
forcing the blade of the second thug's knife straight into the first thug's face.
Blood sprayed.
The first thug dropped dead instantly.
The second thug froze in horror—
Lucien snatched the knife out of the man's hand, reversed the grip, and rammed it upward under his jaw.
SKRRK—
Straight into the skull.
The second thug's body went limp.
The third thug panicked and swung a tire iron wildly.
Lucien didn't dodge.
He caught the tire iron mid-swing, ripped it from the thug's hand, and slammed the flat end into the man's temple.
THUD!
The thug staggered, dazed.
Lucien grabbed the third thug by the hair and dragged him forward—
then used his head as a battering ram, smashing him into the second thug's falling body, and finally into the ground.
The skull cracked against a rock.
Silence.
Lucien straightened up, breathing steady, wiping his hands casually on his pants.
The four remaining thugs lay in broken heaps.
The forest was dead quiet.
The voice inside him whispered:
You done?
Lucien scoffed.
"Yeah. They were boring."
Lucien stood over the bodies, dusting his hands.
But we aren't exactly done yet, he thought.
The voice replied immediately:
I know.
Lucien walked to the last thug — the leader — who lay twisted on the ground pretending to be dead.
Lucien crouched.
"Get up."
The leader froze, then his eyes shot open.
Fear drenched his face.
Lucien grabbed his collar and yanked him upright.
No kindness.
No hesitation.
"Talk," Lucien said.
"Who sent you idiots? Why this road? Why the tripwire? And where the hell do you bring the stuff you steal?"
The leader shook so violently it looked like he was freezing.
He didn't dare think the word torture.
He didn't dare imagine it.
After what he'd seen Lucien do…
even the idea felt fatal.
He broke instantly.
"O-Okay—okay! We—we bring the bikes to a place— a meet-out spot! That's it!"
Lucien raised an eyebrow.
"Where."
"T-the old warehouse outside Redford Village!" the leader blurted. "Two klicks past the quarry— down the broken slope— you'll see it! That's where we hand everything off!"
Lucien stared.
"And who do you hand it to?"
"I DON'T KNOW!" the leader cried. "He… he comes masked—alone—never speaks—just takes the stuff—"
Lucien processed that, bored.
"So. A meet-out spot. An old warehouse. Some masked idiot picks things up."
The leader nodded frantically.
"Yes! Yes! That's all! I swear that's all—please—please—"
Lucien stood up.
"You talked enough."
"W-wait—!"
CRACK.
His foot came down.
The skull split instantly.
Lucien wiped the sole of his shoe on the corpse.
The voice muttered:
Efficient.
Lucien didn't answer.
He dragged the man's body into the forest, then the rest — methodically clearing the scene.
When the last corpse disappeared into the brush, Lucien walked back to his bike, swung onto it, and started the engine.
"Old warehouse…" he thought.
"Hm. Maybe later."
The bike growled beneath him as he turned toward home.
Lucien kicked the stand up and rolled the throttle hard.
The bike screamed down the empty road, night air cutting across his face.
Lucien didn't look back at the bodies.
He didn't need to.
They were already gone.
His mind drifted as he rode.
Eight idiots. Eight. On a fucking forest road… with a tripwire. Who even does that? And for what? A bike? A wallet? How stupid can people get?
He shifted gears, engine growling deeper.
Could've just gone home. Shower. Ate something. But no— I get ambushed by dumbasses who don't even know how to run a proper robbery. Pathetic.
The voice finally stirred.
You know… I thought you wanted to keep this side hidden. At least for a little while.
Lucien scoffed under his breath.
"Yeah? Seems like I can't."
Clearly.
The voice sounded almost amused.
Lucien leaned into a curve, the bike sliding smoothly.
Just my luck, he thought. Barely twenty-four hours back and I'm already knee-deep in bullshit. I wasn't even serious. And still…
He remembered how easily their bones snapped.
…they break too easily.
The voice chuckled.
Try being subtle next time.
Lucien snorted.
"I WAS subtle. That was me being subtle. If I wasn't—"
Yeah, yeah, the voice cut in, the planet would split or whatever.
Lucien didn't argue.
He just kept riding, eyes sharp on the road ahead.
Whatever. I'll pretend this was a warm-up. Now let me just get home without—
He turned the next corner.
Lucien leaned into the corner, the road opening into his neighborhood. Streetlights flickered overhead, calm and normal—until he saw them.
People.
Clusters of them.
Talking. Laughing. Walking together.
All dressed up.
All heading the same way.
Lucien slowed, eyebrows pulling down.
"…Okay. What the hell is this?"
He passed another group.
Then another.
Then a line of cars pulling in.
Dude, he thought, why is there suddenly a whole procession in my neighborhood?
The voice finally spoke, low and uneasy.
I'm… not liking this.
Lucien snorted.
"Yeah, no shit. Where are they even going?"
He followed the flow without meaning to, riding past more and more people, all drifting in the same direction like they were being pulled.
The voice clicked its tongue.
This is getting worse the closer we get. What is happening?
Lucien said nothing, but his jaw tightened.
He turned one more corner—
—and froze.
His house.
Bright.
Decorated.
Packed with people.
Lit up like someone detonated a festival inside it.
Lucien just stared.
The voice whispered:
Nope. I don't like the look of this at all.
Lucien shut off the bike.
Silence hit him hard.
He took two slow steps toward the gate, eyes never leaving the glowing building.
"…What…"
Another step.
"…the…"
Another.
"…fuck."
He stood at the entrance, staring at the mansion drowning in lights.