The bulky man's boots slapped against the wet stone as he pushed deeper into the right-side stretch, breath fogging in short bursts. The bearded man followed close, eyes sharp, jaw clenched, scanning doorways, rooftops, the dark gaps between trash piles. The alley here felt different—narrower, tighter—as if the city itself had decided to lean in and listen.
"Nothing," the bearded man muttered, frustration bleeding through his voice.
They had been at it for minutes now. Too many minutes. No blood. No sounds of movement. No sign that Ash had passed through at all. The only things answering them were dripping water and the distant hum of the city beyond the maze of streets.
A weak streetlight flickered overhead, buzzing like an insect about to die. Shadows stretched and recoiled with every pulse of light, crawling along the walls, warping their shapes. The air smelled of rust, damp brick, and something old—forgotten.
The bulky man broke into a jog, then a run, eyes darting left and right. "He's gotta be ahead," he growled. "Maybe catching his breath."
But with every step forward, the silence grew heavier
Frustration was written all over them—tight jaws, clenched fists, breaths coming out harsher than needed. Too many questions crowded their minds, overlapping, clashing.
Was he even this way?
Had they wasted time chasing shadows?
Should they turn back and check the other side?
Or was he just ahead—watching, waiting, resting?
Every possibility felt equally real. Every choice carried weight. One wrong turn could mean losing him completely… or walking straight into something far worse.
They slowed without realizing it, steps less certain now. The alley stretched ahead, dark and uninviting, while the path behind them felt no safer. The city offered no signs, no hints—only silence and flickering light.
Too many choices.
Too many doubts.
The bearded man finally broke the silence, his voice low, edged with irritation.
"I think we're searching for something that isn't even here."
The bulky guy let out a rough breath, dragging a hand across his face. "I'm frustrated too. I don't know what the hell we're supposed to do anymore."
They stood under a flickering light, shadows crawling over their boots, the alley stretching ahead like a bad decision.
"I think we should check the other side," the bearded man said after a moment. "What do you think?"
The bulky guy frowned. "And if he isn't there either?"
The bearded man shrugged, tired more than calm. "Then he isn't. What else can we do? We'll just blame our luck."
They looked at each other for a few seconds. No anger. No argument. Just shared exhaustion and the quiet understanding that the night was slipping out of their control.
Finally, the bulky guy nodded once.
"Fine. Let's go check the left side."
They turned together, boots scraping against the concrete, disappearing into the dark as the alley swallowed their footsteps whole.
The bulky guy turned first.
He didn't say anything at first—just pivoted on his heel, boots scraping against the wet concrete as he started back the way they'd come. The bearded man followed a heartbeat later, glancing once over his shoulder at the dark stretch ahead before turning away from it.
The alley behind them felt longer now.
Their footsteps echoed louder going back, sound bouncing off the walls in uneven rhythm. The flickering streetlight they'd passed earlier buzzed again as they moved beneath it, shadows stretching ahead of them instead of trailing behind. It felt wrong—like walking backward into something unfinished.
Neither spoke.
The bulky man's shoulders were tight, fists clenched, irritation simmering just below the surface. Every step felt like wasted effort, like admitting failure. The bearded man stayed alert, eyes still scanning, not trusting the silence even as they retreated. Silence didn't mean safety—not tonight.
Water dripped somewhere in the dark. A bottle rolled slightly underfoot and stopped.
They didn't stop walking.
The path they had come from swallowed them again, brick walls closing in, the city's distant noise fading until only their boots remained.
Ash heard footsteps coming closer.
Tap.
Tap.
Two sets.
He pressed himself flat against the wall, breath held, heart pounding hard in his chest. Slowly, carefully, he peeked out.
It was them.
The rabbit-toothed guy was in front.
The skinny guy followed behind, nervous, eyes darting everywhere as they searched.
Ash stayed still, watching.
A faint scuttling sound echoed through the alley.
The rat ran across the ground.
Under the flickering light, its shadow stretched huge along the wall.
The skinny guy saw it.
He jumped violently, screaming, stumbling backward. His body shook as he clutched the rabbit-toothed guy, panic written all over his face.
The rabbit-toothed guy spun around, startled, scanning the alley.
After a second, he saw it.
Just a rat.
Ash watched as the rabbit-toothed guy cursed and slapped his own forehead in irritation. He said something angrily. The skinny guy looked embarrassed, puffed his cheeks, pretending nothing happened.
The rabbit-toothed guy kicked him hard and muttered something as they continued walking.
Ash pulled back into the shadows, unseen.
Ash watched them move forward, their figures slipping deeper into the alley. His mind raced, thoughts colliding in rapid succession.
Run—or strike.
If he escaped now, he might lose them for good. But if he stayed… he could counterattack. One by one. Thin the numbers. End it here. His fingers twitched, imagining clean movements, precise strikes.
If only he had assassin skills.
He pictured it for a moment—stepping out of the dark, fingers pressing into a pressure point, a sharp twist, a body dropping silently to the ground. Cold. Efficient. Over before it began.
A bitter thought surfaced.
Shit… I should've studied some assassin techniques in my previous life.
Who would've known he'd need them now—in this new life, in a filthy alley, hunted like an animal?
The thought almost made him laugh.
Almost.
Ash made his decision.
He slipped back into the shadows and eased the lid of a nearby dustbin open just enough to slide himself inside. Rotting food and damp trash hit his nose instantly, sharp and nauseating, but he ignored it. He pulled the lid down slowly, leaving a thin crack to see through.
Darkness swallowed him.
Inside the bin, his heart went wild.
DUDUM. DUDUM. DUDUM.
Each beat felt loud enough to give him away. His chest tightened, breath shallow, controlled with sheer will. Sweat ran down his spine despite the cold metal pressing against his back. His injured shoulder screamed as he shifted, glass wounds flaring, but he clenched his teeth and stayed still.
Footsteps drew closer.
Tap.
Tap.
Two sets.
The sound crawled through his skull, slow and deliberate. He could hear their breathing now. The scrape of boots. The faint rustle of clothes. His pulse thundered so hard he was sure they could hear it through the bin.
DUDUM. DUDUM.
He counted their steps. One… two… three…
The shadows shifted as they passed right in front of him.
So close.
The rabbit-toothed guy walked first, unaware, posture loose but alert. The skinny guy followed a step behind, head turning too much, fear making him sloppy. Ash saw it all through the narrow gap—the perfect spacing, the brief moment where no one was looking back.
Now.
The lid exploded upward.
Ash surged out of the bin like a spring snapping free. One arm locked around the skinny guy's neck from behind, crushing the scream in his throat. The other hand clamped over his mouth, hard, merciless.
The skinny guy kicked once—panic, pure and useless.
Ash dragged him backward in a single violent motion, feet scraping against stone as he hauled him into the narrow gap beside the bin. The shadows swallowed them instantly.
The rabbit-toothed guy took two more steps.
Tap.
Tap.
Then silence behind him.
Ash pressed the skinny guy against the wall, breath hot against his ear, heart still hammering like it wanted out of his chest. The world narrowed to this moment—this grip, this breath, this fragile second before everything exploded.
Inside the dark, Ash smiled grimly.
The hunt had finally turned.