"Vincent Alaric…"
Ronan Raines took a slow step forward through the smoke and shattered glass, boots crunching against the debris. Blood dripped in quiet patterns from the edge of his sleeve but it was not his own.
His coat, once pressed and pristine, was now singed at the collar. Still, he wore that damn smile of his, with all teeth but no warmth in them.
"The Specter has finally come for me."
Vincent stood still, one hand at his side, the other brushing against the inside of his coat like he didn't need to draw a weapon to kill someone. His gaze didn't waver as he answered.
"You flatter yourself."
Ronan gave a short, mocking chuckle.
"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. I thought I was special." He gestured vaguely at the ruin around him. "You brought an elite unit and everything. Quite the reunion, I must say. What changed? Finally get tired of losing sleep over the contract that got away?"
"You got lucky once," Vincent said, his voice low and flat, like he doesn't care at all.
"Lucky?" Ronan raised a brow, feigning surprise. Then he smirked flashing his pearly white teeth. "Is that what we're calling your failure now? You failed to kill me before, you can't possibly kill me now."
He began glancing around slowly, almost like a predator measuring his distances. "So, tell me. Who told you? Who finally gave up my little cabin in the woods?"
Nova stepped forward beside Vincent, hands still buried in his coat pockets. "Maybe we found you just because we felt like it."
His voice was casual, but his eyes were reading Ronan's body language, every twitch of muscle, every shift in Ronan's footing.
He even tried to use his ability, but nothing is happening for some reason.
"Honestly, for a secret hideout, your interior's more 'abandoned rich uncle' than 'criminal mastermind.' I'm a little disappointed."
Ronan's gaze snapped to Nova, eyebrows lifting as if noticing him for the first time. "And who's this? Let me guess… intern? son? Or did you finally start recruiting failed stand-up comics?"
"Technically, I'm all of those. Except the comedy part. I kill at open mics." Nova tilted his head, half-grinning. He faced Vincent beside him and smiled. "Right, dad?"
Vincent's eye twitch for a moment but he immediately knitted his brows. Without even glancing at Nova, he said. "Stop the nonsense, Nova."
Ronan stared at them, something unreadable flickering in his expression. Then he turned back to Vincent.
"Nova? That sounds… dramatic. Didn't know you were naming your pets after stars."
Vincent didn't take the bait as he still stayed composed. "He's here because I let him be."
"So he's on a leash, not a mission," Ronan muttered, rolling his neck slowly like tension was building beneath his skin.
Then, with that same half-laugh, half-growl. "Strange timing, though, don't you think? My cozy hideaway getting torched the same week you finally start playing house with ghosts again. Makes a man wonder. What... lucky break did you trip over this time?"
Nova's voice cut through. "You're being weirdly poetic for someone standing in a hallway full of corpses."
Ronan turned sharply, pointing toward him with an almost playful edge. "That's the thing with death, it gives you time to reflect. Especially when no one's answering your questions."
"So many of my boys, gone without a word." He swung his arms out briefly, like presenting the ruined hallway. Then his tone became higher, clearly pissed off. "What do you think my reaction will be!?"
"Ehem. Sorry for that." Then with a calm tone as if his lash out never happened, watching Vincent again. "Tell me. Did someone whisper in your ear… or did one of my dogs start barking on the wrong side of the fence?"
Vincent took a step forward, the sound of his boot on the cracked tile loud in the quiet hall. "People talk." A pause. "Eventually."
Ronan stopped walking. His grin faltered for a beat. "That's cute."
Then his head tilted, voice dropping low.
"But see, there's talking… and then there's betraying. I'm trying to figure out which one happened."
He tapped the side of his head with two fingers.
"Because if you're here, someone's already dead. They just haven't noticed yet."
Nova folded his arms. "That sounded cool and all, but it still doesn't answer how your security got folded like origami."
"You're quick with jokes," Ronan shot back. "Keep talking, maybe I'll figure out why Vincent keeps you around… Or maybe not."
Vincent didn't so much as blink. "I never thought you were this noisy."
Ronan's grin returned, but it was tighter now, more like a mask to hide his real expression. "Only when I'm thinking."
He pointed toward the broken staircase behind them. "Someone wanted this. Someone wanted you to see me like this. Weak. Cornered. Talking in circles instead of leading like I used to."
Then he took a half-step closer, voice barely above a whisper. "So, the real question is… who?"
Silence.
Then, to break the tension brewing in the room, laughter rang out.
It was low at first, then it became louder.
"Hahaha… HAHAHA."
"What's so funny, boy?" Ronan's gaze snapped to Nova, sharp and unblinking. His cold voice cut through the air, laced with killing intent.
But Nova only laughed, unbothered, like the threat didn't quite reach him.
Wiping away his imaginary tears, Nova straightened up and fixed Ronan with a smirk.
"You're really trying hard to make us think someone's playing us," he said, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. "It's not gonna work, no one betrayed you. No one's pulling the strings either."
He took a step forward, sneer curling at his lips. "You're just an old dog in hiding, overthinking everything. Just lay down and be a good boy. Maybe we'll spare you a treat."
For a moment, Ronan just stood still.
His eyes narrowed. The confidence in him wavered, only for a flicker, but it was enough. That cold calm expression cracked. His gaze darted to Vincent, then back to Nova, as if trying to read something that wasn't there.
He was in disbelief. Trying to understand what was really happening. Then realizing it was all pointless. He snapped.
"Shut your mouth!" he said, his voice low and trembling, not with fear, but with contained fury. His hand twitched slightly at his side, fingers curling inward into a fist.
"You think this is a game!?" Ronan shouted through gritted teeth. "You think you're standing here because you earned it?"
His voice rose now, cutting sharp through the dust-choked hallway.
"I ran this city before you even had blood on your hands, boy! Before your uncle could afford a suit."
He stepped forward, jaw tight, the faint lines around his eyes suddenly deeper, darker. Invisible energy started to surround him making him hazy. "I killed men better than you in rooms quieter than this."
Nova raised an eyebrow, took half a step back, but Vincent moved at the same time.
"That's enough," Vincent said flatly.
Ronan stopped mid-stride, his eyes snapping to him.
Vincent's expression hadn't changed, but his tone had weight. Solid and unshakable, like the kind that pressed against your chest even without volume. "Take him down."