Desmond
The street outside Mataru's house was quiet, the kind of quiet that made every sound I didn't expect echo like a shout.
My boots tapped lightly against the cracked pavement as I approached the low, beige building tucked behind overgrown hedges. Streetlights flickered intermittently, painting the driveway in pale yellow shadows. Somewhere down the block, a motorist revved too long before pulling away; the sound bounced off the walls of the neighborhood.
I paused at the gate, scanning the perimeter. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred. My pulse tightened—always a reflex when I got close to this kind of business. Money, lies, and hidden agendas had a way of leaving footprints, and I was about to follow them straight into Mataru's den.
"Boss, I don't see anyone," murmured Akim, my field agent, crouched behind a low wall. He had that nervous energy again, the one that made me both protective and impatient.
"Then we'll make them see us," I said, moving toward the house.
The door was slightly ajar. I caught a scent of stale perfume, something sweet and artificial that didn't belong to the house. My stomach tightened. I stepped onto the staircase inside, each wooden creak amplifying the silence around me.
Footsteps above—soft, almost imperceptible. My hand went to my side, brushing the pistol concealed under my jacket. I didn't like surprises, and Mataru was usually paranoid enough to have at least one guard patrolling.
I climbed to the first floor, keeping to the shadows. Then, I heard the unmistakable shuffle of someone trying not to be noticed. A door opened slightly down the corridor. I ducked behind the frame and peered in.
It was Mataru. His face was pale under the weak light of a swinging bulb. He froze when he saw me, and I saw the recognition—then fear—flash across his features.
"Desmond…" he started, voice trembling. "I—I don't know what you're doing here."
I stepped forward, letting the floorboards announce me. "Good morning, Mataru."
He swallowed hard. "Morning," he whispered, though it sounded like a prayer.
"Don't play games with me." My voice was low, controlled. I needed him sharp, alert. "I know what happened at the party. The poisoning. You were there. Don't lie to me."
His eyes darted around, looking for an escape. "I—I don't know what you're talking about. Really."
I could almost taste the lie. It was bitter, metallic on my tongue. "I saw you," I said, stepping closer. "I saw you meet the waiter. I saw the discussions. Don't you dare lie to me."
Mataru's hands trembled at his sides. "I—I—please…"
"Please what? Don't lie," I snapped. "Who sent you? Who's behind the drink?"
He stuttered, then exhaled shakily. "It… it wasn't me. I—someone… someone paid me. It was—"
"Who?" My hand gripped the gun tighter.
He swallowed. "Zara. It was her."
I froze, not in disbelief, but in sharp recalibration. Zara. She had the face of innocence, the kind that made people underestimate her. But this… this was calculated. And dangerous.
"You're lying," I said, but the tremor in his voice told me otherwise.
"No! I swear! I was just—he—he—I was only supposed to follow orders. I didn't…" He broke off, gripping the edge of the stair railing. His knuckles turned white. "My life… she's after my life if I fail her. I can't—please, you have to believe me. I didn't know—"
I lowered the gun slightly, but not my guard. "Relax. You're safe… for now. But we have the same enemy."
He looked at me, confusion twisting his features. "We… what?"
"Our paths intersect here. You made a mistake, but Zara… she's the real problem. And now, you're going to help me figure out how deep her plans go."
Mataru exhaled sharply, relief mixing with fear. "I… I can help. I'll tell you everything I know. I swear."
I nodded, satisfied for the moment, but every instinct screamed that this was only the beginning. "Start talking," I said, my eyes scanning the room for any other hidden players. The furniture was slightly moved, faint scratches along the walls, and the lingering scent of cheap cologne. Someone had been here recently.
"Okay…" Mataru began, voice low. "At the party… I delivered the glasses. But I didn't know it was for Cynthia. I thought… I thought it was just… testing someone, proving loyalty to someone else."
I studied him carefully, letting the story unfold like a blueprint in my mind. Every lie left traces; every hesitation mapped a path. "Zara gave the orders?"
"Yes. She… she orchestrated it. I just executed."
I felt a cold knot in my stomach. Zara —calculating, fearless, and precise—had crossed another line. And now, her influence had reached straight into Mataru's territory.
"Do you understand what you're saying?" I asked, the gun back in my hand. "You're telling me Zara's smart enough to manipulate even her own pawns into killing someone for her?"
Mataru nodded miserably. "She's… she's ruthless. I didn't realize… I didn't realize she'd go this far."
I moved around him, pacing slowly. The staircase creaked, but I didn't care. My mind raced. I had underestimated her before. Not again.
"Listen," I said, keeping my tone casual but sharp. "We need to figure out her next move. And fast."
He swallowed, nodding rapidly. "I… I'll tell you. Everything. Just… don't let her know I confessed. Please."
"You're covered," I said, though I knew that protection was temporary. "But Mataru… this changes everything. She's not just someone to watch. She's dangerous. And if we want to survive, we need to act together."
His eyes widened. "Act together? With… with her?"
I smirked, low and knowing. "Not with her. Against her."
He exhaled sharply, relief flooding his face. But the tension lingered. The walls of the house felt smaller, tighter, every sound amplified: a neighbor's dog barking, a car door slamming outside, distant shouts from the street.
I leaned closer, lowering my voice. "And Mataru… if you're thinking about double-crossing me…"
"I won't," he interrupted, voice firm now, trembling with conviction. "I just… I want to live. I want to make this right. I'll cooperate fully."
"Good," I said, stepping back. "Because Zara won't wait for us to get ready. She moves fast. You've seen her style. Precision, fear, influence—she's already two steps ahead."
Mataru swallowed again. "I… I didn't think she'd…" His voice trailed off.
"You didn't think?" I echoed, my tone razor-sharp. "Well, now you know."
I gestured toward the window. "You need to tell me everything about her network—who she trusts, who follows blindly, who can be manipulated."
He nodded quickly, pulling out a small notebook from under his jacket. "I've got lists, schedules, safe houses… I can give you everything. But she—she won't hesitate if she finds out I talked."
"Then we move fast," I said, scanning the room one last time. The quiet of Mataru's house now felt like a cage. Every shadow could conceal an enemy. Every creak a warning.
"And Desmond…" he added, voice barely above a whisper, "Zara … she'll come here. She'll want to check on me herself. Be careful."
I smirked, feeling the weight of the next step pressing down. "Then we prepare. Because if she's coming… it's not going to be pretty."
Mataru looked at me, eyes wide, chest heaving. "I… I didn't know she'd—"
"Doesn't matter what you didn't know," I interrupted. "What matters is what we do now. You follow my lead, and you survive. One mistake, and you won't."
He nodded, swallowing hard. Fear and relief twisted across his face. I could practically see the gears turning, plotting escape routes, contingency plans.
I stepped back, pulling out my phone. "First, we track every contact. Then, we trace the money. Then… we wait."
Mataru's lips parted in shock. "Wait?"
"Yes. Because she thinks she's in control. But right now, she doesn't even know I know."
I glanced at the window again, catching the faint reflection of the streetlight on the glass. Shadows moved outside—almost imperceptible, but real. A reminder that Zara was out there, hunting, watching, planning.
And for the first time, I understood the depth of her reach.
I turned back to Mataru. "Tell me everything. And don't leave anything out."
He nodded, trembling, opening the notebook. And in that quiet, tense room, I realized the game had just begun.
Outside, the night remained silent—too silent. And I knew Zara would be the first to break it.
Do I trust him—or only use him to survive?