MAFIA'S WRONG TARGET

41: TRUST NO ONE

SYBIL'S POV

Kingland,
09:56pm

We stepped outside. Not together. He first. I followed.

The air was colder. Sharper. Voices carried from a distance-low, urgent. Something was wrong. Something real. Not just in my room anymore.

I slowed for a second-just a second- as the thought hit me.

This wasn't just about me. It never was.

"Don't stop." His voice cut through my thoughts. I looked up. He hadn't turned. Hadn't even slowed. But he knew. I quickened my steps immediately.

As we approached the lower side of the mansion, he finally spoke again not looking at me. "If I tell you to leave," he said, voice low, controlled, "you don't argue."

I swallowed. "Okay."

"If I tell you not to look," he added, "you don't look."

That made my chest tighten slightly. But I nodded anyway. "...Okay."

Every step we took, the quieter it felt. Not peaceful quiet. The kind that made you aware of every sound your body made-
every step, every breath.

We stopped in front of a structure I hadn't noticed before. It stood slightly apart from the rest, darker, almost swallowed by shadows.

No guards outside. That felt wrong. Hunter pushed the door open. It creaked. Just slightly. But in that silence- it sounded louder than it should have.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping in after him. The room was dark. Not dim. Dark. The kind where your eyes take time to adjust, where shapes don't form immediately-
only shadows layered over shadows.

The air felt different inside. Heavy. Stale.

I heard a faint metallic click. I looked instinctively.

Hunter. He had already pulled out his gun.

In one smooth motion, he attached a silencer, his movements practiced, unhurried. Like he had done this a thousand times before.

That should have scared me more than anything. But it didn't. Because something else did. Something cold brushed against my shoulder.

Light. Barely there. I frowned, instinctively reaching up-
And then I felt it.

Wet.

My fingers froze.

Another drop.

This time-

on my face.

Warm.

Slow.

My breath hitched.

I lifted my head.

And my world-
stopped.

A body hung upside down from the ceiling.

Still. Lifeless. Blood dripping steadily from his face, running down his hair, falling in slow, deliberate drops on me.

My scream muffled into a strong grip of his hand before it could echo.

Hunter.

"Quiet." His voice was low. Firm. Not harsh- but enough to snap something back into place.

My chest heaved, my eyes still locked on the body. I couldn't look away. I couldn't understand what I was seeing. The man's face was bruised beyond recognition. Skin torn. Blood dried in patches, fresh in others.