The storm was strong-too strong.
Rain poured from the mad, gloomy skies, drumming against the windshield. They were on the road, the wipers struggling to keep up.
"Father, where are we going?" Kai asked, his small voice trembling. He looked up at the man gripping the wheel-his father-whose knuckles were white, his eyes fixed ahead as if trying to outrun something. He didn't answer. Sweat trickled down his temple despite the air conditioner humming cold.
They had just left on what his father called "a bit of business." But something had gone wrong-terribly wrong. Kai could feel it in the way his father's hands shook, in the silence that filled the car thicker than the rain.
Finally, the car screeched to a stop. They were back at the police station-where his father worked. Without a word, his father unbuckled his seatbelt, stepped out, and opened Kai's door.
"Son," he said, taking Kai's small hand in his trembling one, "you'll stay here. Marcus will look after you, okay?"
His voice cracked when their eyes met-both a deep, stormy blue, just like the skies above. Before Kai could answer, his father turned and ran back into the rain.
Kai watched from the doorway, his heart pounding. Then-
Bang!
A single gunshot split through the sound of the storm.
He froze. His father lay on the wet pavement, blood spreading beneath him like a dark mirror. His blue eyes stared lifelessly at the sky-gray, heavy, and cold, just like his own.
◆ ◆ ◆
Kai jolted upright, gasping for air. His chest heaved, his shirt clung to his skin-his bed was soaked with sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, groaning at the throb behind his temples.
He didn't want to remember.
He shouldn't have dreamed about that night.
It was a memory he had tried to bury deep within himself, but it refused to fade. No matter how many years passed, it clung to him—sharp, unrelenting, and painfully alive. The person responsible for shattering his world had walked away without consequence, but that would soon change. Whoever had taken everything from him would pay dearly for what he had lost.
The window rattled violently, trembling in its frame as the storm outside raged on. Raindrops clung to the glass in scattered streaks, blurring the world beyond into shifting shapes and shadows.
His phone buzzed on the nightstand, rattling sharply against the wood. Kai snatched it up, gripping so tightly that the veins beneath his skin stood out in tense, pale lines. He answered the call , his free hand drifting to his forehead, where a sheen of sweat clung despite the cool air in his room from the rain outside.
"Hello?" His voice was rough, tired.
"Detective, you need to see this. It's another murder. Meet me at the station."
Marcus. The Chief of Police. His tone was sharp, commanding-urgent. It was far too early and far too rainy for work, he thought. A heavy part of him resisted the idea of leaving the warmth of his bed, wishing he could stay exactly where he was instead of facing the day ahead.
Kai exhaled through his nose. "Yeah. I'll be there."
He ended the call and sat in silence for a moment, staring at the rain-smeared glass. Then he stood, changing on a plain white shirt. His muscles ache from sleep as he shift beneath the fabric. The room felt empty, as it always did, heavy with memories that refused to fade.
He grabbed his keys from the table and left the apartment without another thought.
Rain still poured as Kai drove through the slick, empty streets. The Chief sat beside him in the passenger seat, staring out the window. He looked older now—his once brown hair had faded to gray, lines marking the years of service on his face.
"Don't you have any plans to get married?" Marcus asked suddenly, glancing at him. His tone was serious, but Kai could hear the tease hidden beneath it. He pulled this stunt every chance he got. There was even a time when the Chief's daughters visited the department, and Kai was the very first person they asked for.
Here we go again, Kai thought. Another attempt to advertise one of his daughters.
"No. Not for now," Kai replied flatly, eyes fixed on the road.
Marcus sighed and shook his head, half in disappointment, half in amusement.
When they arrived at the scene, flashing red and blue lights painted the night. Police cars crowded the old, decaying house, yellow tape fluttering in the rain. The place looked abandoned for years-broken windows, ivy creeping up the walls. Why would a murder happen here?
Kai ducked under the tape and stepped inside. The smell hit him first-iron and rot. The floor was slick with blood, and the furniture lay scattered as if the house itself had fought back. A trail of crimson led upstairs.
"What the..." Kai muttered, his voice low with disbelief.
Marcus followed close behind, his face grim. "This is what's been bothering me," he said quietly. "This doesn't look normal at all."
Before Kai could respond, one of the senior officers approached them. "Thank God you're here, Detective," he said, out of breath. He was older too, gray creeping through his hair. In a room full of veterans, Kai was the only one who still looked young and tired.
"There are strange symbols upstairs," the officer continued, lowering his voice. "And... handprints. On the ceiling. It's unsettling."
Kai nodded, his eyes narrowing. He glanced toward the staircase, where the blood trail disappeared into the shadows above. How could something like this happen? And what kind of person could do it?