It was 2:03 a.m. The city lay still, bathed in an eerie calm, its heartbeat slowed under the heavy blanket of sleep. But not all souls rested.
From the depths of the silent alleyways and dim-lit streets emerged two shadowed figures.
The first wore a black hoodie, the drawstrings pulled so tight that only a sliver of pale skin peeked from beneath the shadows. His gloved hands fidgeted constantly, betraying the twitch in his nerves. Beside him walked a taller, leaner man with a wide-brimmed black hat. His face, too, was obscured by a mask, but there was something unmistakably sinister about his stride—a certain elegance in his malice. His name was Kevin.
Kevin, Elena's ex-boyfriend, and Ruddy, his deranged accomplice.
They walked in silence for a while, the only sound their boots scraping against the concrete. Then Ruddy broke the silence.
"You're insane, you know that?" he muttered. "Breaking into someone's house like that. Broad daylight. And you didn't even finish the job."
Kevin stopped in his tracks and turned his head slowly, glaring at Ruddy.
"Don't start," he said, voice cold. "I was this close. I had her. I felt her fear. The way she looked at me… she remembered. She remembered what it meant to be mine."
"Right," Ruddy scoffed. "And then that little punk interrupted you."
Kevin's eyes narrowed. "That boy. That bastard. Showed up at the wrong time and started acting like a hero. I hit him hard, but he kept coming. And then the police. I don't know how they got there so fast."
Ruddy exhaled, shaking his head. "You were reckless. Now the whole precinct is sniffing around. Every cop in the area is on high alert. Do you have any idea how many times they drove past my place tonight alone?"
Kevin didn't respond right away. He just kept walking, slower now, but more purposeful.
"It doesn't matter," he finally said. "Tonight, we finish it. No more running. No more fear. No more waiting."
Ruddy frowned. "And what happens after? You think they won't come after us? If we leave a mess behind?"
Kevin chuckled, low and bitter. "There won't be anyone left to talk. We'll make it clean. Quick."
The two of them rounded a corner and emerged in front of the modest apartment complex where Elena and Sam lived. The building was dark, only a few faint lights shining through thin curtains.
Ruddy reached into his coat and pulled out a lock-picking tool, sleek and professional. Kevin, on the other hand, drew a hunting knife from his belt—curved and gleaming with a cruel edge.
"You ready, brother?" Ruddy asked, his voice quiet.
Kevin's grin widened under the mask. "Let's give them a night to remember."
He turned the blade slightly, letting it catch the dim streetlight. It reflected a cold glint—like the flash of steel before the fall.
"She thought she could forget me," Kevin muttered. "But no one forgets Kevin. Not after what we had. Not after what she took from me."
Ruddy chuckled darkly. "And after you're done, I get my share. You promised."
Kevin nodded. "One hole each, right? Like we said. She'll scream for both of us."
Their laughter was grotesque, foul, a rotting sound in the night. The air around them turned cold as if even the wind recoiled in disgust.
They moved stealthily through the building's corridor, their footsteps calculated, barely audible. Kevin walked as though this was routine—as though violating someone's sanctuary was his right.
When they reached Elena's apartment door, Ruddy knelt and worked the lock with swift precision. It clicked open within seconds.
They entered quietly, closing the door behind them without a sound. Inside, the apartment was dim, a faint glow from a hallway lamp casting long shadows on the floor.
Kevin stepped in first, his knife raised. But the bed was empty. The room—silent.
He snarled, looking around.
"Where is she?" he growled.
Ruddy scanned the surroundings. "She ain't here. No signs of struggle. No signs of sleep."
Kevin's breathing turned shallow. Rage simmered in his chest.
"She's with him," he whispered. "That bastard. That wannabe hero. She's in his apartment."
Ruddy leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"So what now?"
Kevin turned to him, knife still in hand. "We go to his place. We knock gently. When they open, we paint the walls red."
Ruddy's grin returned. "That's more like it."
He slid another smaller blade from his boot and flipped it in his hand. The hallway was dead quiet, but the tension was rising, like a drumbeat before battle.
They stepped outside again and walked toward Sam's apartment, just next door.
Kevin stopped at the door, placing his ear against it.
From inside, there were faint murmurs. A girl's voice. Then a man's. Laughter. The sound of comfort.
It burned him.
He stepped back and looked at Ruddy.
"We knock. We don't talk. We just go in."
Ruddy nodded. "Let's make this quiet and clean. But brutal."
Kevin raised his hand—and knocked.
Once. Twice.
Inside the apartment, footsteps approached.
Sam.