The clock marked twelve past seven—midday—when the three of them gathered in the apartment they were renting in Dubai. The closed curtains allowed only a thin line of light to enter, a sharp stripe dividing the table where they had spread out blueprints, photographs, and the penthouse layout of the Burj Khalifa.
Viktor rested one hand on the back of a chair, silent, while Lars checked the access and exit routes one last time. Marcus stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He didn't speak. He didn't blink. It was as if he was forcing himself to stay still.
He was clearly making them uncomfortable.
"Well," Lars said, taking a breath. "The host will be busy, there'll be music, people coming and going, security upstairs and downstairs… but most of the job depends on Marcus. Without him we won't even get close to the boy."
The name "Marcus" hung in the air for a few seconds. He still didn't move.
Viktor turned his head slightly to look at him. Not annoyed—just as if he were waiting for him to speak.
And Marcus didn't want to; that much was clear. Lars noticed the silence and frowned.
"Marcus? You said you had something to explain… something about your power."
Marcus finally lifted his gaze. Not toward Lars, but toward some empty point on the floor, as if he needed to hold onto anything except someone's eyes.
For a moment, no one said a word. Viktor ran a hand along the back of his neck, resigned. He already knew this gesture.
Finally, Marcus spoke, his voice low and tense.
"When I turn… invisible…" He paused, as if the word tasted bitter. "It's not just disappearing. It's not just phasing through walls… or people. There's a condition."
Lars frowned, paying close attention.
Marcus swallowed.
"If I touch someone while I'm using my power… that person also becomes like me. Invisible. Intangible. We can move together."
Lars nodded, surprised but relieved. "That's perfect, Marcus. We can take the kid without making noise—"
"No," Viktor cut in, with a tone he had never used before.
A tone that warned of danger.
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering courage cost him too much.
"There's… more."
Lars looked at him, not understanding, while Marcus took a deep breath that didn't calm him at all.
"The problem isn't someone else turning invisible with me. The problem… is that when that happens, I…"
Viktor clenched his jaw; it was obvious he hated this part.
Marcus pushed off the wall and stepped toward the table. His shadow stretched across the blueprints, trembling.
"I lose control," he finally said, almost in a whisper.
Lars blinked. "Control of what exactly?"
Marcus looked him in the eyes now—just for a moment. Long enough for Lars to see something broken inside them.
"Of myself. Of everything. Of what I am," he murmured. "My body… changes. My mind shuts off. It's like… something else wakes up."
Lars tensed.
Marcus continued, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly:
"I only have five seconds after touching someone. Five. And when those five seconds pass… I stop being me. My body… demands to eat. Anything. Everything it can find. Until it's satisfied."
The word eat hit the table like a knife.
A shiver ran down Lars's spine.
Viktor breathed deeply, like someone who had lived through this far too many times already.
"That's why," Marcus went on, "I need to take someone else along besides the boy. I can't risk being alone with him if something goes wrong."
Lars felt a hit in the gut. He didn't ask who that "other person" would be. He didn't need to. He already knew.
No one spoke for several seconds.
The sliver of light through the curtain seemed even narrower, even colder.
Finally, Marcus lifted his head just enough for Lars to hear him.
"If at any moment you see my eyes change, Lars… if I stop talking… if I start breathing like I'm out of air…" He paused painfully. "Don't try to stop me, don't try to help me—run, because no one can stop that thing."
The silence that followed was absolute.
And then, the scene faded as if a curtain had fallen over it…
Back to the present.
The room remained in shadow.
Only the faint hallway light slipped through the half-open door, creating a thin line that split the room in two. The boy was still sitting on the floor, back against the pillar, biting the sandwich without emotion, without hurry, without humanity. Each bite seemed automatic, mechanical, as if he ate only because his body forced him to—not because he wanted to.
Marcus watched him without moving, not expecting any reaction from the boy.
And indeed, there was none.
He didn't even blink.
Marcus felt a knot form in his throat. It was as if that boy… wasn't there anymore. As if something had hollowed him out.
Silently, Marcus slid his hand into his pocket and took out his phone. He held it close to his chest so the glow wouldn't leak into the hallway.
He typed quickly, without lifting his eyes from the boy:
Message to Viktor: "I already have the person I'll take with me besides the kid. The guard watching him."
Send.
Then he typed another.
Message to Viktor: "I need you to create a distraction so the other two guards upstairs get busy. When I call you, that's the cue."
Send.
He put away the phone and took a deep breath, preparing his body, remembering those five seconds he had… before becoming something he hated.
The boy kept eating, emotionless, lifeless.
Marcus took a step toward him, invisible again to the world… though not to himself.
On the first floor, among neon lights, fake laughter and the DJ's music vibrating against the glass, Viktor felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He stood next to Lars, chatting with two girls who seemed far too interested in them to be coincidence.
Viktor unlocked his phone discreetly and read the messages.
His expression didn't change… but his jaw did, a small clench. Something only Lars noticed.
"Everything okay?" one of the girls asked, leaning closer.
Viktor smiled—perfect, convincing, as if nothing were wrong.
"Yes, sorry… messages from my father," he said.
But at the same time, he dipped his head ever so slightly toward Lars. Barely a millimeter—a signal for someone who knew how to read it.
He leaned toward his ear, still holding his glass, as if flirting.
"Get ready for the distraction," he whispered.
Lars didn't respond with words. He just inhaled through his nose, slow and deep, and set his glass down on the table.
His gaze hardened.
It was time.
Marcus moved like a barely perceptible gust of wind.
First, he leaned toward the boy. His invisible fingers brushed the rope tied around the child's waist, and the knot came apart silently, sliding lazily to the floor.
He held his breath, waiting for a reaction—a blink, a breath change.
Nothing.
The boy simply kept chewing the sandwich with the same vacant stare, as if the world around him didn't exist.
A chill crawled up Marcus's spine.
Then he slid toward the side wall. His body didn't touch the surface—it passed through it, dissolving into invisible motes as he entered the neighboring unit.
The adjacent penthouse was dark.Completely silent.
The only light came from Dubai's skyscrapers, casting a faint blue glow over the marble floor and minimalist furniture. Marcus drifted through the living room, checking corners, shadows. Then he inspected the rooms one by one.
Empty.
Perfect.
He returned to the boy's room without making a sound.
He took out his phone, held it in an unseen hand… and tapped Viktor's call icon.
As he heard the first ring, he approached the child. He lifted him in one motion—firm but careful.
The boy didn't resist. Didn't even shift his gaze.
The instant Marcus touched him, the child's body vanished from sight.
His skin, his clothes, his small hands… everything became translucent, then intangible.
Invisible.
Marcus didn't have time to breathe.
He stretched his arm through the door—his hand emerging into the hallway… right where the guard stood.
His fingers brushed the man.
The guard vanished too, as if swallowed by air.
Marcus had them both.
And his five seconds were already running.
One.
He crossed the hallway without touching the floor, moving with the desperate speed of someone racing against himself.
Two.
He passed through the thick concrete wall between penthouses, carrying the weightless child and the floating, stunned guard.
Three.
He entered the dark living room of the neighboring penthouse. With a silent but forceful push, he let the guard drop onto the floor. The man, confused and unable to understand what was happening, fell with a dull thud no one heard.
Four.
He brought the child into a separate bedroom, far, far from the sound that was about to occur. He sat him on a bed. The little one showed no sign of fear, surprise, or awareness.
Five.
Marcus stepped back so fast the air seemed to shiver.
He returned to the living room—
Just as his power hit its limit.His body snapped back into visibility, as if forced into existence.
And with it… the other part of his power began to awaken.
A dark hunger.
Ravenous.
Predatory.
Marcus's breathing turned unsteady. His hands began to tremble violently.
There was no time.
The guard, still invisible, was beginning to regain form on the floor.
And Marcus had only one more second… before the thing inside him took control.
Viktor felt his phone vibrate just as he finished smiling at one of the girls talking to him and Lars. Discreetly, he looked down.
Marcus was calling.
He didn't wait a second.
"It's now," he murmured, barely moving his lips.
Lars nodded almost imperceptibly.
Viktor pocketed the phone and, without altering his pace, let his shadow slide across the polished floor. It was as natural to him as breathing. The darkness stretched subtly between the guests' feet, snaking like spilled ink.
As laughter echoed nearby, Viktor's shadow expanded beneath five random people.
And suddenly, their bodies reacted as if something had brushed their minds.
One shoved another, the second swung back instinctively, a glass shattered on the floor.
In less than a blink, all of them began attacking each other, shouting insults drowned out by the music.
Chaos erupted.
Waiters retreated, trays fell, more people joined the fight without knowing why.
The two guards on the first floor pushed into the brawl, grabbing arms, separating bodies, getting kicked and shoved. But it was useless. The fight had taken on a life of its own—like a beast feeding on disorder.
One guard cursed and touched his earpiece.
"We need backup on the first floor! Now!"
On the mezzanine, the two guards on the second floor responded immediately, abandoning their posts and running downstairs to reinforce their teammates.
Just as Marcus needed.
The distraction was underway.
Meanwhile, in the neighboring penthouse, darkness wrapped around Marcus like a heavy cloak.
His body—distorted, trembling—barely kept a human shape. His silhouette blurred, barely containing what writhed beneath.
The guard regained his form for a moment…
Just as a wet, ripping sound filled the room.
Marcus was already on top of him.
There was no struggle; the guard was no longer moving.
Marcus's teeth sank into the flesh of his abdomen, tearing off chunks as if they were soft bread. Blood splattered on the marble floor in dark drops that looked unreal in the bluish shadow.
A feral, uncontrolled sound escaped his throat.
Until, suddenly, the wave of hunger began to retreat.
His breathing became less ragged; his body regained density, and the darkness inside withdrew like a receding tide.
Marcus's eyes refocused.
And when he saw where he was—kneeling before a mangled torso, his gloves and mouth smeared with blood—he turned his face away with a shudder, as if he couldn't bear the sight.
He stood up, staggering.
He entered the bathroom and turned on the faucet with trembling hands. The water ran clear at first… then tinged red.
Marcus washed his face once, twice, three times. Scarlet droplets slid down his neck and his gloves. He scrubbed hard, as if he could erase not only the blood but what he had just done.
He leaned toward the mirror.
His reflection trembled, and his eyes… still had a wild glint that took several seconds to fade.
He inhaled deeply.
Again.
And again.
But the unease remained, clinging to his gaze like a ghost unwilling to leave.
And there, alone, soaked in water and blood, Marcus lifted his face one last time toward the mirror, cleaned himself thoroughly… before forcing himself to step back out.