Xavier stood outside the mansion, surrounded by the remains of his organization. Twenty men—all that was left after the wars, the firefights, the endless violence.
Behind him, Jihoon checked his weapons one last time. "Boss. This is it. Whatever's in there... we might not walk out."
"I know."
"And you're still going in?"
Xavier looked at the mansion—gothic, isolated, beautiful in a terrible way. Somewhere inside, Nana was being held by a man who'd lost everything.
A man with nothing left to lose.
"She's in there," Xavier said simply. "So yes. I'm going in."
He moved forward, his men following.
The front doors were unlocked. Open. Inviting.
A trap. Obviously a trap.
Xavier walked through anyway.
The interior was opulent—marble floors, crystal chandeliers, artwork worth millions. And in the center of the grand ballroom, sitting on an ornate chair like a throne, was Rafayel.
Nana sat in his lap, tears streaming down her face. Her hands were bound, but not cruelly. Almost gently.
Around them stood maybe thirty armed men. Rafayel's personal guard. His last line of defense.
"You came," Rafayel said, his voice eerily calm. "Took you long enough."
Xavier's hands clenched on his weapons. "Let her go."
"No." Rafayel stroked Nana's hair, his touch possessive and gentle. "I know you killed my father, Xavier. Executed him like a dog in the street."
"He killed Richard first. It was justice."
"Justice?" Rafayel laughed—high and slightly unhinged. "There's no justice in our world. Only survival. Only taking what you want and holding onto it with blood-soaked hands."
His hand moved, pulling a gun from inside his jacket. In one fluid motion, he pressed it against Nana's forehead.
Every person in the room froze.
Nana whimpered, fresh tears spilling.
"Relax," Rafayel said, though his smile was maniac. "I'm not gonna kill my cutie. She's the only thing I have left. The only perfect thing in this whole rotten world."
He pressed a kiss to her forehead—gentle, loving, completely insane.
"I'm sorry, Nana," he whispered against her skin, loud enough for Xavier to hear. "You're going to hate me more after I kill your Xaviee. But I'm not sorry about that."
He snapped his fingers, and two of his men grabbed Nana, pulling her from his lap. She fought, screaming Xavier's name, but they dragged her toward a side door.
"XAVIER!" Her voice was desperate, terrified. "XAVIER, DON'T—"
The door closed, cutting off her cries.
Xavier's world narrowed to a single point of absolute rage.
"You made a mistake," he said quietly.
"Did I?" Rafayel stood, gun loose in his hand. "I don't think so. See, now you'll fight with everything you have. Desperately. Recklessly. Because she's all that matters to you."
"Just like she's all that matters to you."
"Exactly." Rafayel's smile was sharp. "So let's see who wants her more. Who's willing to sacrifice more. Who deserves to be the monster she fears and loves in equal measure."
He raised his gun.
Xavier was already moving.
He shot the chandelier above Rafayel's head. The massive crystal fixture came crashing down, and in the chaos of falling glass and screaming men, Xavier teleported.
Appeared behind Rafayel. Slammed him into the marble table with bone-crushing force.
The room erupted into violence.
Gunfire. Shouting. Xavier's men against Rafayel's guard. Blood spraying across expensive artwork.
But Xavier only had eyes for Rafayel.
They fought like animals—no technique, no strategy, just pure violence fueled by obsession. Xavier's knife found Rafayel's ribs. Rafayel's blade cut across Xavier's shoulder.
They crashed through furniture, shattered mirrors, painted the white marble red.
"She'll never love you!" Rafayel screamed, his blade going for Xavier's throat. "Even if you win, she knows what you are now! She'll look at you with horror!"
Xavier blocked, twisted, drove his knee into Rafayel's stomach. "Better horror than pity! She'll never pity you—she'll hate you! Forever!"
They rolled across the floor, trading positions, both bleeding from dozens of wounds. Around them, the firefight continued, but it was distant. Unimportant.
Rafayel got his hands around Xavier's throat, squeezing. "I watched her for eight months! Every smile! Every laugh! I memorized her! She's MINE!"
Xavier's vision started to darken. He grabbed Rafayel's wrist, twisted with his light evol flaring, and felt bones crack.
Rafayel screamed, releasing him.
Xavier gasped for air, then drove his fist into Rafayel's face. Once. Twice. Three times.
"She was never yours!" Xavier snarled.
"She was always mine! From childhood! From butterfly catching! From every moment you were watching through cameras, I was actually THERE!"
Xavier hit him again, and again, until his knuckles split and Rafayel's face was a bloody mess.
But Rafayel was laughing. Still laughing.
"Doesn't matter... who had her first... only matters... who keeps her last..."
The fighting around them had stopped. Xavier looked up through blood-blurred vision.
All his men were down. Jihoon lay motionless near the door, a pool of blood spreading beneath him. The others—dead or dying.
Rafayel's men were down too. All thirty. Bodies everywhere.
Just the two of them left standing. Barely.
Xavier tried to stand, his legs shaking. Bullet wound in his arm. Knife wounds across his ribs and back. Concussion from being thrown through a mirror.
He was dying. Slowly. But dying.
Accros the room, Rafayel crawled toward a fallen guard, reaching for a gun with trembling fingers.
"That's it," Rafayel muttered, blood dripping from his mouth. "I won't die... after all this... I want her..."
He grabbed the gun. Aimed at Xavier. Fired.
The shot went wide—missed Xavier's head by inches—and buried itself in Xavier's left arm instead.
Xavier cried out, stumbling. His own gun slipped from his blood-slicked fingers, skittering across the marble.
Rafayel crawled on top of him, pinning him down despite his own grievous injuries. Pressed his gun against Xavier's forehead.
"You know, Xavier?" Rafayel's voice was almost conversational despite the blood bubbling at his lips.
"You're going to die tonight. And I'll keep her. I'll marry her. Have a family with her. Have everything you never had. She'll forget you eventually. She'll—"
Something primal erupted in Xavier's chest.The image of Rafayel touching Nana. Marrying her. Having children with her. Living the life Xavier had dreamed about since childhood.
No.
His light evol exploded around his hand—white-hot, burning, desperate. He grabbed the gun Rafayel was holding, yanked it from his grip with strength born from absolute refusal to die.
No. She's MINE.
He pressed the barrel against Rafayel's forehead.
"You lose," Xavier gasped.
Rafayel's dual-colored eyes widened. Then he smiled—genuinely smiled.
"Lucky bastard," he whispered.
Xavier pulled the trigger.
BANG
The shot echoed in the silent ballroom.body went limp, collapsing on top of Xavier. Blood—so much blood—spread across the white marble, mixing with Xavier's own.
Xavier lay there, Rafayel's corpse pinning him down, and felt consciousness slipping.
He'd won.
He'd killed both leaders. Ended the war.
Survived.
But he was bleeding out on a marble floor, surrounded by bodies, with no idea where Nana had been taken.
"Starlight..." he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm sorry... I tried..."
His eyes fluttered closed.
Darkness took him.
.
.
.
.
.
To be continued.