The night smelled of rust and rain.
Victor Reyes was dead. His blood still stained my hands, but there was no time to dwell on it.
Because something was coming.
I felt it in my bones—like a cold whisper curling around my spine. A presence, unseen but undeniable.
And then…
The lights flickered.
The steel mill groaned, its ancient bones creaking under an invisible weight.
Lance stiffened beside me, his fingers twitching toward his knife. "Leon… you feel that?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "I do."
We weren't alone
A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the mill.
Once.
Twice.
Then silence.
A shadow moved on the catwalk above. Smooth, calculated steps. The air around them seemed heavier, like gravity bent to their will.
And then I saw him.
A man dressed in a pitch-black suit, his tie loose, his hands tucked into his pockets. He moved with a lazy sort of confidence, like he was walking through a dream.
His eyes—cold, calculating—locked onto mine.
A shiver ran through me.
I recognized him.
The man from before.
The one who had watched me kill Victor.
The one who had disappeared without a trace.
He tilted his head, a small, almost amused smile playing at his lips.
"Well, well, well," he mused. "You really did it."
His voice was smooth, like velvet over steel.
I kept my stance firm. "Who the hell are you?"
The man exhaled, shaking his head. "Ah, where are my manners? You can call me… Dante."
A name. But no answers.
Lance's grip tightened on his knife. "What do you want?"
Dante didn't even look at him. His focus was entirely on me.
"What I want, Leon, is to see if you're ready for the next stage."
The way he said my name made my skin crawl.
"Next stage?" I echoed.
Dante took another step forward. The lights above us flickered again.
"You've done well so far. You survived when you weren't supposed to. You killed Victor—impressive, truly. But tell me, Leon…" His eyes sharpened, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"Do you think that was your victory?"
Before I could answer, he moved.
No warning. No buildup.
One second he was on the catwalk.
The next—
He was in front of me.
I barely had time to react before his hand shot out, grabbing me by the throat.
My vision blurred. A crushing force wrapped around me, pressing in from all sides. My feet lifted off the ground as if gravity had abandoned me.
My lungs screamed for air.
Lance shouted something, but his voice felt distant.
"See, Leon," Dante murmured, his grip tightening, "Victor was never important. He was just a piece. A distraction."
I clawed at his hand, struggling to break free, but it was like trying to pry open steel.
Dante leaned in, his voice a ghost in my ear.
"You've stepped into a game far bigger than you realize."
My vision darkened. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
And then—
He let go.
I hit the ground hard, gasping for breath.
Lance was at my side in an instant, his knife drawn, but Dante simply adjusted his sleeves, as if nothing had happened.
"This world," Dante continued, "is built on power. And you, Leon? You just became very interesting."
I glared up at him, rage burning in my chest. "You… want me dead?"
Dante chuckled.
"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be breathing."
He turned, taking a few slow steps back toward the catwalk. "But there's something you need to understand, Leon. Killing Victor?" He shook his head.
"You didn't win tonight. You just made your first move."
I forced myself to my feet. "And you? What the hell are you in all this?"
Dante paused.
Then, without looking back—
"The one setting the board."
And just like before—
He was gone.
To be continued...
The silence he left behind was deafening.
I clenched my fists, my breathing ragged.
Victor had been a monster. A killer.
But Dante?
He was something else entirely.
He wasn't a villain.
He wasn't a soldier.
He was the architect of something much bigger.
And now, I was caught in his game.
Lance exhaled, rubbing his temple. "So… that was terrifying."
I didn't answer.
Because in that moment, I realized something.
Victor's death had set off a chain reaction.
And whatever was coming next…
It would be worse.
Much worse.