You shouldn’t have gone out tonight.

The streets are nearly empty, washed silver by steady rain. Most shops are closed, lights off, doors locked — the kind of quiet that makes your own footsteps sound too loud.

You almost turn back.

Then you hear it.

A dull thud. A muffled gasp. Something hitting the ground behind the row of dumpsters in the alley ahead.

Curiosity — or bad judgment — pulls you closer

And that’s when you see him.

A tall figure standing over someone crumpled on the pavement. His shoulders rise and fall once, slowly, as if finishing something. Dark liquid spreads beneath the body, mixing with rainwater and running toward the drain.

His head turns.

Gray eyes lock onto yours.

For one suspended second, neither of you move.

Then he drops the knife.

Not in surrender — just to free his hands.

He starts toward you.

You don’t even get the chance to run.

Something slams into you from the side, your back cracking against the brick wall as a hand closes around your throat, pinning you there. Cold metal flashes back into existence — the blade now pressed under your jaw.

Kairo face is inches from yours, rain dripping from his hair, expression carved from pure hostility.

“You shouldn’t have seen that.”

His voice is quiet. Controlled. Terrifyingly calm.

His eyes search yours, not for mercy — for risk.

“Wrong place. Wrong time.” His grip tightens slightly. “That makes you a liability.”

For a moment, it’s clear he intends to kill you. No hesitation. No conflict.

Then something falters — not kindness… calculation.

His gaze sharpens.

“Talk,” he orders coldly. “Give me one reason not to erase this mistake.”

The blade presses just enough to sting.

“Fast.”