Chapter 1
Raeven
I stood in the shadows of a dimly lit street, my breath fogging the cool air around me as I waited for Zayver to join me. He stepped away to check with Dante that the target area was still clear so we could do the job tonight. The quiet hum of distant cars and the occasional dog bark were the only other sounds that could be heard. We were far from home, deep in the city's forgotten corners, keeping eyes on the man who would soon die by our hands. The target Micheal Greaves, was everything the rumors said he'd be: paranoid, disheveled, and constantly looking over his shoulder. For weeks, we'd seen his erratic behaviour. Zavyer nudged me with his elbow, his blue eyes glinting in the faint light of a street lamp. "There he is," he muttered. Micheal stepped out of the corner store, clutching a plastic bag in one hand and his phone in the other. He was focused on his phone for a while before he looked up checking his surroundings before walking towards the direction of his house. "He's already so on edge but that works to our advantage," I said with a sly smile. "He is so busy checking his phone right now he won't see us coming."
We followed him at a distance, weaving through the shadows. He walked briskly, his steps uneven as if he couldn’t decide whether to hurry or linger. The faint glow of his phone screen lit his face every few moments as he checked his messages or his location. I glanced at Zayver. I wasn’t new to getting my hands dirty, but this felt different. Like a foreboding felling. Michael turned down an alley, his pace quickening. Zayver and I exchanged a look before following, our footsteps silent on the cracked pavement. The alley was narrow and dark, the glow of a flickering neon sign barely piercing the shadows. Michael stopped halfway through, leaning against the wall as he fumbled with his phone. For a moment, I thought he was texting someone, but then I heard it—the faint sound of a voice. He was recording something. Zayver motioned for me to stay back as he crept closer, his movements fluid and silent. Michael was too engrossed in his phone to notice as Zayver slipped behind him, his hand darting out to snatch the device. “What the—” Michael spun around, but Zayver was already retreating, holding the phone out of reach. “Hey there, Michael,” Zayver said, his voice smooth and taunting. “What’s got you so worked up tonight?” Michael’s eyes darted between Zayver and me as I stepped out of the shadows. “Who are you? What do you want?” He looked around for somewhere to run. “You know exactly who we are,” I said, my voice cold. “And you know why we’re here.” Michael’s face paled as he stuttered out his excuse. “I haven’t been a part of that in a long time. I left. I swear! I haven’t—”
“Then how come you're still getting regular payments from them,” Zayver cut him off, his grin returning. “But we both know it’s only a matter of time. You’ve been running your mouth too much, Michael. It’s a bad habit.” Michael backed away, his hands trembling. “Please, I won’t say anything. I’ll disappear. You’ll never hear from me again.” “You already tried that but you're still doing shady things otherwise no one would send us,” I said, stepping closer. Zayver pulled a knife from his pocket, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light. Michael’s eyes widened, and he stumbled backward, his voice rising in panic. “Wait! I can pay you! Just—”
“Shut up,” Zayver snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut. The rest happened so fast that it felt like a blur. Michael tried to run, but Zayver was faster, closing the distance and driving the blade into his chest. Michael gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he collapsed to the ground. I stepped forward, my heart pounding with adrenaline as I crouched beside him. His breathing was ragged, his eyes locking onto mine. There was fear there, but something else too. “Y-you’ll regret this,” he choked out, blood staining his lips. “Doubtful,” I said, as Zayver wiped the blade on his sleeve. Michael’s eyes fluttered shut, his chest heaving one last time before going still. I stood, wiping my hands on my jeans as I looked down at the body. “Time for part two, make it look like someone else was here,” I said. “Scatter some clues, something the cops will latch onto.” Zayver nodded, already pulling out a pair of gloves. “We’ve got time. Let’s get to work.” As we erased our tracks and planted false evidence, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t the end. Michael’s death was supposed to solve our problem, but as I looked down at his lifeless body, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d just created a bigger one.
Zayver and I stepped into the sleek, minimalist space of our base- a luxury penthouse hidden in plain sight at the heart of the city. From the outside, it looked like just another high-rise, but the top two floors were ours, secured with state-of-the-art tech and a shit ton of defense. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the skyline, while the polished concrete and leather furniture exuded understated power. This wasn't just a hideout, it was a stronghold. Dante was sprawled across his custom-built workstation on the far side of the open concept space. The array of monitors bathed him in a cold blue glow, the screens filled with live feeds, schematics, and scrolling lines of code. He wore his usual attire- a black shirt and dark-colored jeans, his brown hair swept back out of his face. Both my men were dark and broody looking, Zayver just preferred the biker look instead of the suit he had to dress in when blending. “You’re late,” Dante drawled without looking away from his monitors. His voice was smooth, laced with amusement. “I was starting to think you two got lost.” Zayver smirked, shrugging off his leather jacket and tossing it onto the back of a chair. “We don’t get lost. We’re just thorough.” “Thorough?” Dante arched an eyebrow, spinning his chair to face us. “Thorough would’ve been getting me the evidence sooner. But don’t worry—I worked my magic. The body’s been found, the cops are on it, and the breadcrumbs we left? Chef’s kiss.” He made a dramatic gesture with his hand. I crossed the room and perched on the edge of the desk, arms folded. “And the girlfriend? Did they take the bait?” Dante grinned, tapping a button to pull up a police report on one of his monitors. “Oh, they’re all over it. Her voice recording are in their evidence log, and they’re already questioning her alibi. I even threw in a hint of financial motive to sweeten the deal. She’s in for a rough ride.” Zayver leaned against the window, the lights of the city reflecting off his sharp features. “Any heat on us?” Dante’s grin didn’t falter. “None. Everything’s clean. The journal? Planted without a hitch. The knife? Wiped and left with just the right amount of false prints. And as far as the cops are concerned, you two don’t even exist.” Zayver said, his tone clipped, "Good because we’re not amateurs, and I don’t plan on starting now.” Dante leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Relax Zav I’ve got this locked down. You know I don’t miss.” I couldn’t help but smirk at their banter. This wasn’t our first job, and it wouldn’t be our last. We were professionals—ruthless, efficient, and untouchable. Zayver rested a hand on my waist, his presence steady and unshakable. Dante let out a low whistle. “You two are a match made in hell, you know that?” “Don’t act like you’re above it,” Zayver shot back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I never said I was,” Dante replied, spinning back to his monitors. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a precinct to monitor and some files to corrupt. Go enjoy your view or something.” I stood, brushing off imaginary dust from my pants. “Let us know if anything changes.” Zayver grabbed his jacket, already heading for the door. “We’re done here. Dante, keep everything running smoothly. Rae and I have more work to do.” Dante saluted lazily, his attention already back on his screens. “Always.” As Zayver and I stepped outside, the cool night air wrapped around us. The city stretched out before us, glittering and alive, but none of it felt real. This was our world, the shadows where power shifted and lives were taken. “We’re good at this,” Zayver said quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “We have to be,” I replied. “It’s what keeps us alive.” And it was true. The game we played was dangerous, but we knew the rules better than anyone. If the world wanted to hunt us, they’d have to do better. Because we weren’t just survivors. We were predators.
