The menacing laughter grew louder as a figure emerged from the shadows. Drake stepped into the light, his face contorted in a grotesque smile that stretched unnaturally wide across his pale face. His eyes glinted with a manic energy that seemed to flicker between amusement and murderous intent with each passing second.
"Nice job defeating Victor," Drake said, clapping his hands slowly in mock applause. His voice carried a sing-song quality that made André's skin crawl. "I didn't really like him. He was too proud."
Drake's laughter erupted again, echoing through the warehouse like breaking glass. He ran his fingers through his disheveled hair, leaving it standing at odd angles.
"I love when people are a little bit fun and joking," he continued, his smile growing impossibly wider. Each word dripped with the same unhinged energy that André remembered from the alley—the same laugh that had played in his nightmares as his sister's blood pooled around him.
