Ethan stepped out of the elevator and headed straight for the exit, the glass doors sliding open with a soft hiss. His mind drifted back to the room he'd just left—those two students from school. Why do I even care? He mentally shook the thought away, dismissing it as he reached for his car door.
"Ethan!"
He turned to see Madison jogging toward him, breathless.
"Can I see Daisy?" she asked. Allen was close behind her, catching up just as they reached the car. Ethan checked his watch; it was nearly dinner time. With a silent nod of consent, the trio piled into the car. The engine roared to life, and soon they were pulling up to his apartment building.
The ride in the elevator was thick with silence. Ethan led the way to his front door, Madison and Allen trailing behind him like shadows. As soon as he turned the key and pushed the door open, his mother's voice rang out from the kitchen.
"Ethan, welcome home!" Selena stopped mid-sentence when she spotted his guests. "Oh! Madison, Allen! What a wonderful surprise. Come in, all of you."
"Hi, Aunty Selena," Madison chirped. Selena immediately pulled her into a tight, warm hug.
Allen entered with a polite, reserved smile, his eyes meeting Ethan's for a brief, unreadable second. When Selena finally released Madison, she turned her attention to Allen, looking him up and down with a discerning nod before ushering them all toward the dining table.
Daisy was already there. The moment she saw Madison, she bolted upright, and the two girls rushed toward each other, talking instantly like lifelong friends. Ethan and Allen took their seats in silence, watching the whirlwind of energy.
"I'll leave you kids to it," Selena said with a smile, retreating from the room. As the girls' chatter filled the space, Ethan and Allen remained quiet, the tension between them a stark contrast to the laughter at the table.
Elsewhere, in a dimly lit martial arts gym, the sound of heavy breathing echoed against the mats.
"Nicely done, Enzo. You're learning faster than ever," Benson remarked, looking down at his student.
Enzo sat on the floor, lungs burning, sweat dripping from his chin. "You have the potential," Benson continued. "After a little more training then you'll be back in your prime."
Enzo offered a sharp nod, still fighting for breath.
"That's enough for today. Go home and rest," Benson said, turning to walk away.
Tomorrow is a school day, Enzo thought as he forced himself to his feet. A dark, jagged smile spread across his face. Everyone is going to pay.
He climbed into his car, the engine idling as he checked a sudden vibration from his phone. It was a message from IMP Lackey No. 44.
IMP Lackey No. 44: "The school trip is the day after tomorrow for all classes. You and your sister are cleared to go. Tomorrow everyone will be informed."
Enzo's smile turned predatory. He quickly typed back: "Where to?"
When the location popped up on his screen, his eyes lit up. It was perfect. The best possible place to exact his revenge.
"Okay," he replied. He switched to a group chat labeled with his gang's name and sent out a single order: "Trip the day after tomorrow. Everyone, meet at the usual spot after school, tomorrow."
A flood of thumbs-up emojis followed. Enzo gripped his phone so hard his knuckles turned white, the victory already tasting sweet in his mouth.
He typed another message. "I have a plan. One of you..." Soon Enzo sent the message. He closed his phone.
"Henry, you're dead," he murmured to the empty car. His eyes widened with a sudden, manic realization. "And that man in the helmet... he might just be there, too."
In another part of the city, a massive room was lined from floor to ceiling with bookshelves. The only light came from a single desk lamp, casting long, dancing shadows across the rows of spines.
A figure with charcoal-black hair, dressed in a crisp white shirt, black slacks, and white shoes, sat at a table. Jake closed the book he was reading with a soft thud and stood up, sliding it back into its precise place on the shelf.
"That was a pleasant read," he remarked quietly.
He turned his gaze toward the corner of the room, where the darkness was deepest. A figure sat, the lamp's glow reached only as far as to the pair of boots he was wearing. Beside those boots sat a motorcycle helmet—the very same one that had once appeared to protect Sophia.
Jake returned to his seat, his striking grey eyes blinking slowly in the dim light. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table and intertwining his fingers, staring into the shadows where his silent companion waited.