---
Devon didn't move.
For a moment, the world felt unreal.
Like the room had become a photograph.
Frozen.
His father sat against the living room wall, eyes half open, a dark stain spreading across his shirt.
The smell of blood filled the air.
Devon's backpack slowly slipped from his shoulder and hit the floor with a soft thud.
"…Dad?"
His voice sounded small.
Too small.
The man in the kitchen doorway stepped forward calmly.
Tall.
Black coat.
In his right hand was a long sword with a narrow, polished blade.
In his left hand was a compact handgun fitted with a suppressor.
His face wasn't angry.
It wasn't cruel.
It was just… professional.
The assassin glanced down at the device in his hand again.
A small screen.
A number glowed on it.
3,000,000
Then he looked back at Devon.
"You must be Devon."
Devon's heart slammed against his ribs.
"How do you know my name?"
The assassin didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he took a slow step into the living room.
Boots crunching slightly against broken glass on the floor.
"Your brother," he said finally.
Devon felt his stomach drop.
"…Richard?"
The man nodded once.
"He's become very valuable."
Devon's eyes moved again toward his father.
Still not moving.
Still staring at nothing.
"Where's my mom?" Devon asked quietly.
The assassin lifted the gun slightly and pointed it toward the kitchen.
Devon's body felt numb as he looked.
His mother lay on the kitchen floor beside the table.
One hand still gripping the edge of a chair.
A red stain spreading across the tile.
Devon's legs gave out and he dropped to his knees.
The room spun.
His ears rang.
For several seconds he couldn't hear anything except the pounding of his own heart.
The assassin watched him carefully.
Not impatient.
Just waiting.
Finally Devon whispered,
"…why?"
The assassin shrugged slightly.
"A contract."
Devon clenched his fists.
"They didn't do anything."
The man tilted his head.
"Wrong family."
Devon's breathing became shaky.
"You killed them because of my brother?"
The assassin corrected him calmly.
"Because of the price on your name."
Devon looked up.
Tears blurred his vision but anger burned through the shock.
"My name?"
The assassin nodded toward the device.
"Three million dollars."
Devon laughed weakly.
A broken sound.
"That's insane."
"Yes," the assassin agreed.
"But money motivates people."
Devon wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his uniform.
"…Are you going to kill me too?"
The man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he raised the sword slightly.
The blade reflected the dim living room light.
"That depends."
Devon's heart pounded again.
"On what?"
The assassin's eyes narrowed slightly.
"On whether you're worth the bounty."
Devon stared at him.
"I'm just a kid."
"Your brother was just a kid too."
Devon's breathing slowed.
Fear was still there.
But something else was growing.
Anger.
Hot.
Sharp.
"You killed my parents," Devon said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you're just standing there talking about money."
"Yes."
Devon slowly pushed himself back to his feet.
The assassin watched carefully now.
Not threatened.
Just curious.
Devon's fists clenched.
"You know what?" Devon muttered.
"What?"
Devon looked straight at him.
"My brother's gonna kill you."
For the first time, the assassin smiled slightly.
"I hope he tries."
Then he raised the gun.
Devon froze.
The assassin aimed directly at his chest.
And pulled the trigger.
—
Thousands of miles away, the helicopter cut through the night sky.
Richard stared out the window as clouds passed beneath them.
The city lights of their hometown were beginning to appear on the horizon.
Halden's voice broke the silence.
"We are ten minutes out."
No one spoke.
Siara glanced at Richard again.
He looked calm.
Too calm.
But inside his chest something felt wrong.
A pressure he couldn't explain.
Like a thread had just snapped somewhere far away.
He frowned slightly.
"What?" Zane asked.
Richard shook his head.
"…Nothing."
But for the first time since the bounty announcement—
Richard felt uneasy.
Very uneasy.
And he didn't know why.