Scene 8
The house had grown too quiet.
A faint pulse blinked on the surveillance monitor in the living room—then stalled. One of the exterior sensors went offline.
Marx noticed it instantly.
He leaned in, eyes narrowing. "We've got interference."
From the hallway, Agent Sera's voice came through the comm. "Perimeter's clear on visual, but I'm checking again."
Aria stirred on the couch, pulling the blanket off. Her eyes were heavy with sleep, but her instincts screamed something was off.
Marx tapped into the security feed again. "Where's Del?"
No response.
---
Kael's Room
Kael stood near the window, motionless. The lights above him flickered. The hum of nearby equipment shifted in pitch—slightly off.
He blinked. Something felt wrong.
Not fear. Just data.
One sensor no longer blinked.
That one… always blinked.
He turned from the window.
A sound.
Soft. Floorboard.
He moved.
Not out of reflex—but because not moving would be incorrect.
A figure entered the room—standard agent gear, familiar face. But the body language was wrong.
Too slow. No comms. No greeting.
Kael didn't speak.
The man raised a compact weapon, something sleek and silent.
Kael was already lowering his center of gravity.
A forward step. The agent aimed.
Kael closed the space faster than expected. His palm struck the man's elbow, redirecting the aim. The weapon fired—but missed, grazing the side wall.
Another strike—knee to thigh, then elbow to jaw.
The agent dropped.
Kael stared at him.
Not standard. Not trained the same.
He picked up the weapon and inspected it—but discarded it after determining its use wasn't necessary.
---
Downstairs
Aria had risen, tense. Her eyes locked with Marx's. "Something's happening."
Marx didn't answer. He was already drawing his sidearm and stepping toward the hallway.
A crash upstairs.
Marx cursed under his breath and ran.
Another figure passed the stairwell—too fast, too quiet.
Not one of theirs.
Aria backed into the wall, her breathing sharp now. She grabbed the edge of a table, hands trembling.
---
Kael's Room – Seconds Later
The second intruder entered.
This one moved faster, tactical.
Kael stepped back—not afraid, just analyzing.
Faster. Stronger build. Patterns more aggressive.
The agent swung. Kael ducked. A second strike grazed his shoulder, but he didn't react. His body adjusted.
A block. A step forward. A blow to the ribs.
He was hit again. His body bent—but didn't falter.
Pain registered. Irrelevant.
The man lunged to pin him.
Kael twisted under the weight, letting his balance shift, redirecting the fall.
They slammed into the dresser. Wood cracked. Both dropped hard.
Kael rolled away first.
His arm pulsed—just faintly. Black markings flickered, coiling briefly around his wrist before fading.
The attacker tried to rise.
Kael's foot struck his head.
Stillness.
---
Marx Arrives
Gun raised, Marx stormed into the room—only to find Kael standing over two unconscious men. Again.
Aria was behind him, eyes wide, breath caught in her throat.
Kael looked up at them both. His voice calm. Flat.
"They weren't yours."
Marx lowered his weapon slightly. "No. They weren't."
Silence fell.
Kael glanced toward the broken dresser, then to his lightly bleeding arm. He stared at it for a moment, then looked away.
"I didn't let them take me," he said—not as a boast, but a statement of fact.
Marx said nothing. Aria stepped forward, swallowing hard.
Kael's eyes briefly met hers. She opened her mouth—but no words came out.
There was nothing left to say.