Ethan stepped out onto the balcony, the fresh air hitting his face for the first time in two weeks. Below him, workers were busy patching the final scars on the mansion's exterior, their movements rhythmic and distant.
Suddenly, he felt it. It wasn't the violent, crushing killing intent of the invisible assassin. This was different—a faint, almost delicate sensation, like a soft breeze brushing against his skin. To anyone else, it would have been nothing, but through his Amethyst Eyes, the world began to vibrate.
He turned his head slightly. The air in front of him wasn't empty; it was distorted, like heat rising off asphalt, a tiny ripple in the fabric of the space he now understood so well.
"You look very calm, considering half the underworld is hunting for your head, you know," a voice said.
