They were the only ones in the room. Zenne sat down and stared blankly out the window. He glanced at Jake, who stood quietly, deep in thought. He knew he had to leave soon before his companion noticed he had been gone for too long.
William was already present elsewhere, but Zenne still had to make an appearance. He also knew that Thalia had entered the snakes' territory.
"I need to leave now, Jake. Just stay calm," he said simply.
Jake looked at him but said nothing.
"Zenne, am I really doing the right thing?" Jake asked, his voice low and uncertain. "I don't want those kids to get hurt. Why do they have to be dragged into adult problems?"
"Jake," Zenne replied, "no matter how much we try to protect them, remember—today's youth are bolder than we were."
"Bolder?" Jake repeated, shaking his head. "That kind of boldness only leads them to disaster and misery. Their minds are more chaotic than ever."
Zenne sighed. He didn't want to argue. Jake's perspective, shaped by years as a teacher, wouldn't change easily.
"There you go again with your teacher mindset," Zenne said. "Set that aside for now. We're facing a much bigger problem. Yes, the youth today are different—but give them a little trust. That's why we're here: to guide their choices."
Jake gave no response—just a quiet shake of the head.
"I'll keep you updated," Zenne said as he stood up.
Jake still didn't speak, only giving a slight nod.
Zenne stepped out and left. The world was closing in on him, and his life was increasingly at risk. He had to be extra careful, both when coming here and when going to the warehouse—the base of the organization he was part of.
To avoid any tails, he drove using a route only he knew. He glanced frequently at the side mirror; no one seemed to be following.
He went home first, headed straight to the basement, and hid his personal phone. From there, he used the organization's device—a burner phone to avoid being traced. He always carried a decoy phone, pretending it was his personal device while he was with the organization.
I have to be careful, he reminded himself.
He already had a sense of what was to come. Though surprised that Felix allowed Thalia to return, he trusted Felix's instincts. Felix wouldn't have done it if he didn't believe in his sister.
Zenne pulled on a hooded jacket—his signal that he was a member of the organization. He used a different vehicle for the trip back to the warehouse, one reserved for such visits.
He had only one goal: to bring down the organization from the inside. He wanted justice for his best friend, Fernan, who had sacrificed his life. Zenne still saw the moment vividly—Fernan being riddled with bullets, while Zenne stood frozen, Fernan signaling him not to move or intervene.
He still felt responsible. And worse, he had failed again—this time, unable to protect Fernan's siblings.
His rage simmered. He thought the pain might fade in time, that he'd learn to accept it—but his mind screamed for justice. If the law failed, he'd become the law himself.
Suddenly, his organization-issued phone rang. He immediately plugged in his earphones as he drove.
"Where are you?" William's voice asked sharply.
Zenne sighed. "I'm on my way. I had some business to take care of," he said coolly.
"How's your business?" William probed further.
Within the organization, coded language was common. Only William and select others understood the true meanings behind their words.
"I'm finishing what I previously left undone. The boss might ask about it."
"Then finish it. Hurry—Charles has something for you."
"Got it."
He stepped on the gas. When he arrived, he parked, got out, and walked straight to the warehouse. A fellow member met him at the entrance.
"Charles wants to see you," the man whispered.
Zenne nodded and quickly made his way over. Charles was in the middle of a task.
"You called?" Zenne asked.
"You're here," Charles replied, pausing to face him. "The boss has an assignment for you."
"What is it?" Zenne asked.
Charles handed him a folder. Inside were files on women—victims of greed. Zenne looked at Charles questioningly, but received no answer.
He knew better. He read between the lines. The real message was hidden, and only he could decode it.
"I understand. I'll do it now," Zenne said, handing the folder back.
Charles didn't reply.
I need to prepare a hiding place for Chesca first, Zenne thought. This is my path.
As a member of the organization, Zenne had been forced to do things he once thought unimaginable—like burying victims so mutilated that they were beyond recognition.
Forgive me, he silently said as he laid their bodies to rest. When this is all over, I'll return and give you a proper burial.
You will find justice. Just wait.
After the burial, he entered a separate room where lifeless bodies were being dissected. The moment he stepped in, the stench nearly made him gag—an unbearable, sour odor that made his stomach churn.
Sometimes, Zenne had to act as the cleaner. It was dirty work, but it gave him access to crucial information when things got tight.
And for now, that was the only power he had.