Kangmin stared emptily at the crossbow beside him, still wet with blood. Not the blood of the nightkin the weapon was meant for; the blood of the man standing across the table from him—his own kin.

"He'll never hurt you again," he told his brother's partner—former partner, now—as he watched the pool of red spread across the wooden tabletop, staining the playing cards and dripping onto the floor. The hunter held out a small corked bottle, its contents shimmering faintly in the dim lamplight. "Drink this. It'll help."

As an independent hunter, Kangmin had never been bound to any one group. His brother, Changhee, had been affiliated with the powerful Circle—something his younger brother had always lorded over him, calling him a "lone wolf" and a "renegade" as if that were somehow a bad thing.

He'd always known his brother to be a pr*ck, but he'd never fully realized the extent of the man's cruelty until Changhee's drunken confession during their game of cards. His brother had done unspeakable things to many people, his partner included. Though he'd had suspicions, he hadn't intervened, telling himself the relationship had to have been a happy one. What a gullible fool he'd been. The writing had been on the wall the whole time, and he'd ignored it over some ridiculous notion of familial love.

Well, there was no such thing in his heart anymore. Whatever feelings had remained scattered to the winds the moment he'd let that bolt fly straight into his younger brother's heart.

"I won't leave you to deal with the aftermath," he promised, his tone surprisingly soft. "You won't be left wanting for anything. I'll see to it."

For a "lone wolf," he had saved up a tidy sum. He also had his own place in a quiet residential area—it was small and sparsely decorated, but it was tidy. Kangmin was rarely there; his brother's former partner could have plenty of privacy.

"I'll deal with the body, the evidence, everything. You worry about yourself." He gestured at the untouched bottle. "He told me everything. Drink. It'll help."