Samuel took another quiet look at himself. It was easy to observe from his reflection on the polished wall. He tried to move his arm, and it hurt; she had left no loose gap in her binding.
He'd long been expecting someone else to walk in. Taking a quick scan around the room, he lowered his head. How could Nelly have disabled the guards so quietly and entered here alone? He took a long look at her. Was he asking the wrong question?
"What happened to you, Nelly?"
The shadow moved. Even with her face exposed, it still felt like an unholy union between her and a ghost. The rest of her body, covered in the haunting material, made it impossible to discern her size or shape.
Ken had developed this prototype in the comfort of his house.
She studied the big man again. It was annoying how he had managed to grow this much, feeding off Ken's handiwork.
She gave him a dirty look as his voice reached her.
"You want to know what happened to me?" Her voice was low and dangerous. "Try grieving for two years. That might not be enough—try five. Or ten. Be haunted by the same dream of the one you love dying in your arms. Or cling to that dream because it was the only way to see him." Her face contorted.
"That doesn't explain why you're here," Samuel pressed. "I've told you I had no hand in Ken's death. It doesn't explain how you disabled the guards and—" He stopped himself, genuine fear creeping into his voice.
There was no way Samuel could have sensed what she could do. He'd seen her before—she looked perfectly delicate, just as when he first met her. So why... how was she able to hide all this murderous intent he was feeling from her now?
A faint hope flickered in his mind. She won't kill me. Not while she needs information. He could work with that.
"How did you complete that mask? That suit too—I know it's Ken's work." He hesitated. "I know my friend's work just by looking at it."
"You still have the guts to call him a friend?" Nelly's voice rose. "After stabbing him in the back? Claiming his work? Are you selling it like a coward and planning to disappear forever? She stepped closer. "It's you I should be asking. Why are you selling now? It's enough to keep you complicit. How were you a ghost until this point, only to run again?"
"Did you never think about it, Nelly?" Samuel's expression darkened. "Why did the police never chase the case? Despite Ken's standing, it was never acknowledged. We did—we all did. Still, we know what Ken would have wanted: to carry on his work, not whine over his death."
He studied her face.
"I think I know why you didn't move on. Of all of us, you knew him the shortest. We've been friends since we met at a competition at twelve and met again at fifteen in uni.
He paused.
"But you were there, weren't you? The night he died." His voice dropped. "Tell me, Nelly—is this revenge born of your guilt? Unless there's something else that happened that night you didn't tell the police."
Nelly heaved. The painful memory pierced through her thoughts.
It was her fault. She'd told herself that for those first five years. The guilt had settled in, shattering and destroying. Robbery accidents constantly happen. She'd chosen that road selfishly, hoping they'd be alone for their first kiss.
No.
A few weeks later, when her belongings were sent from school, there was a letter from Ken. He'd known he would die. It ended with: Please move on. Don't attempt to avenge me.
"How dare you?" Her voice trembled with rage. "I went through a lot preparing for this day. All through my grief, I hoped you would reach out one day. And yet you never did. Or perhaps you thought I'd be killed with him?"
She straightened.
"I've been training for the past seven years. Since I discovered a company making its prototypes before its founding members disappeared after being bought by Kelvin. My mom wouldn't let me come back to Nigeria, so I poured it all. The anger. The grief. The pain." Her expression darkened. "I poured it all into making myself stronger. I'm out for blood, and I won't stop until I get it."
"What do you think would happen if I died?" Samuel asked quietly. "Let's say, hypothetically, I am aware of Ken's death. Why do you think I'd ever be silent? Unless—" He stopped himself.
Nelly's eyes widened. She had measured all the possibilities but never accounted for someone else to be behind Ken's death. Were they all threatened to stay away from the case?
"Did you lose your soul?" she whispered. "See how you talk about your friend's death. But I'm going to get to the bottom of it."
No. Something was wrong.
Samuel looked pale. Too pale. As if he'd seen a ghost.
She scanned the room. They were still alone.
Then she felt it. The air grew colder. A chill crept up her bones.
His voice throbbed in her ears again.
"Please," He stuttered. "Let me go. I promise I'll tell you everything I know—just get me out of here."
His face grew paler, as if he'd seen a ghost. What was he talking about? Why the sudden change of heart? No—what is this feeling?
Nelly was interrupted by the sudden shattering of glass.
A sound whizzed past her—just barely.
She ducked.
Another. Samuel shrieked.
She became distraught. It was that feeling—the same one that had haunted her. And the sound that came with it.
The big man's head fell forward. Nelly had a bad sense of déjà vu.
She rushed toward him.
"Samuel! Samuel!" she screamed.
Then she saw it. Flowing freely—a red viscous liquid.
Her body went cold.
Samuel had seen the camera in the room, making a mental calculation of how long he'd been tied here. Knowing them, seeing him restrained meant betrayal. Though it had no audio, he was glad—his former friend's face wasn't visible to the camera. He doubted they could even see her form in that suit. It would be impossible to track her.
That's when he'd seen the shooter. He'd tried to warn her, but she was rigid. How could he blame her?
Guess it couldn't be helped. His past was finally catching up to him.
A moment later, he felt the bullet sink into his flesh.
Guess I'll be joining you now, Ken.
No. There was something he had to do.
Mustering his last strength, he warned her.
"Nelly—stay out of this case. Please. I beg you."
He felt his strength leaving his body.
"I'm really sorry about Ken. There's nothing I could do."
Nelly's blood turned to ice. Her mind spun. Her only real lead. Her knees grew weak.
But no time for that. She had to get out. The guards must be waking up by now. That shot might have spurred them into action.
But why did he tell her that?
In a room shrouded in darkness, a dim fluorescent bulb hung from up high, casting faint light on a man with low, curly hair. His skin was perfectly toned. He sat on the bare floor, legs folded, eyes closed.
A playful smile rested on his lips. He never imagined a girl would be in his bed while he took this quiet room. He'd fought the temptation several times to go check on her.
She was confused.
No—that wasn't it. Lucky didn't care that much. He definitely didn't. It was just strange to leave a drunk girl lying alone.
"Come to think of it, she has work tomorrow."
It was part of the reason he couldn't sleep. If he did, his other half would take over.
Speaking of his other half, his smile grew as he closed his eyes.
Soaring deep within his mind, passing through several layers, he scanned and searched. He was looking for a particular set of memories. His other half was getting better at shielding them from interruptions.
Was it time to introduce himself?
Soon, he found it—a door. Perfectly sealed.
He pushed. A heartbeat passed before it budged.
"Now what have you been up to, Kelvin Akor?"