John Oscar opened his eyes slowly.

The first thing he saw was darkness.
Then he felt the cold.

Not the air-metal.

Something hard pressed against his temple.

He inhaled sharply and froze.

His hands were tied behind the chair he sat on, his legs bound together with rope.

"Easy," a calm voice said from the shadows. "If you scream, you won't like how this ends."

John's eyes adjusted to the dim light. The room was no longer empty. Kelvin stood behind him, relaxed-one hand holding the gun steady, the other resting casually in his pocket.

"You're in your house," Kelvin continued. "Although not for long. Whether you leave here alive depends on the answers you give to my questions.

"I'm sure you're wondering how I got inside. Your door was unlocked. You should fix that habit."

John swallowed. His head throbbed where he'd been struck.
"Who the hell are you?" he asked hoarsely.

Kelvin didn't answer.

Instead, he reached down, picked up the medal from the bedside table, and let it dangle in front of John's face.
"Someone looking for answers."

John's breath caught.

"Nice piece," Kelvin said mildly. "You wear it like it means something."

John's eyes followed the medal-too quickly.

Kelvin noticed.

"Where did you get it?" Kelvin asked.

Silence.

Kelvin moved from behind him to stand in front of him, leaning closer and lowering his voice.
"Before you decide to test my patience, understand something-I already know who you work for. I know what you do. And I know how disposable men like you are."

John scoffed weakly.
"You don't know a damn thing. Otherwise, you wouldn't be asking me about the origin of that necklace."

Kelvin smiled faintly.

He reached behind him and pulled out John's gun-the one he'd taken from the floor-and placed it gently on the mattress beside them.

"You keep a Glock with a worn trigger spring," Kelvin said. "Serial filed halfway, not fully. Lazy work. You favour your right side when you shoot. And you're not the decision-maker-just a handler."

John stared at the gun.

Kelvin straightened.
"I'm not here to kill you."

That seemed to unnerve John more than the weapon.

"I'm here because of a woman," Kelvin continued. "She died in what was labelled an accident. And the only physical item recovered from the scene was a medal."

He lifted it again.

"This medal."

John's jaw tightened.
"What woman are you talking about? And that piece of metal doesn't mean anything. Lots of people own those."

Kelvin moved to the window, leaning against it. The drawn curtains allowed only a thin line of light into the room.

"True," Kelvin said. "But not everyone wears one while dealing with criminals and disappearing into nightclubs."

He pushed himself away from the window and lowered the gun slightly-not away, just enough.

"I've been tracking you for weeks," Kelvin said. "Your routines. Your habits. Your addresses-real and fake. You're careful. But you're not invisible."

John exhaled slowly.
"You broke into my house."

"I needed answers," Kelvin replied evenly.

Silence stretched between them.

Then John laughed-short and nervous.
"You really think you can walk out of here after this?"

Kelvin leaned in again, close enough for John to see his eyes clearly.

"I already have," he said. "The only question is whether you help yourself tonight-or whether I leave you exactly as I found you. Unconscious. Alive. And very unlucky when your employers realise someone came asking questions."

Fear finally cracked through John's composure.

"What do you want?" he whispered.

"Tell me what happened to Mrs Phidous MarQueen on that fateful night on that road," Kelvin said.

"I want names. I want dates. I want to know who ordered the hit, who cleaned it up, and who made it look like an accident."

John's eyes widened in shock.

How could the man standing in front of him-this stranger holding his life in his hands-know about a woman and an incident that had happened in another country?

Just who is this guy? he wondered.

"You don't understand-" John began.

"I understand perfectly," Kelvin cut in.

He tapped the gun lightly against John's temple-not enough to hurt, just enough to remind him.

"I want answers," Kelvin said quietly. "And I want them now.

"This isn't about bravery. It's about survival. And if you value your life, you'll give me what I want.

"If not, your boss will find out you haven't been doing your job properly-and that people are asking questions. How he reacts to that information is up to you to imagine."

Kelvin smirked.

John's eyes flicked toward the door. Then back to Kelvin.

"...It wasn't supposed to go wrong," he said at last. Sweet forming on his forehead.

Kelvin didn't move.
Didn't speak.

He just listened.

And John Oscar began to talk.

***

Inside the Andersons' mansion, Mrs Kate Anderson slept beneath tangled sheets.

The pounding against her bedroom door came hard and sudden.

She jolted awake.

The door shook again.

"Open the door, Mom. We need to talk."

Kate swung her legs over the bed, rubbed her palm along her sleepy face, snatched up her robe, and wrapped it around her bare body as she crossed the room. The pounding didn't stop.

"I'm coming," she snapped.

She opened the door halfway and planted herself in the gap, blocking the room behind her.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Julius?" she hissed. "Do you want the whole house awake?"

Julius pushed against the door. "Let me in. This isn't a corridor conversation."

Kate's grip tightened. Over her shoulder, the butler lay naked and unmoving on her bed. If Julius saw him-if he realised where the man's loyalty truly lay -and that he shared her bed-there would be blood before dawn.

She met her son's eyes.

"My study," she said. "Now."

She stepped past him into the corridor and shut the bedroom door firmly behind her.

Moments later, inside the study, Kate took her seat, composed once more.

"Speak."

"One of our handlers has been missing for a week," Julius said. "No contact. Nothing. Did you send John on a mission without telling me?"

"No," Kate replied instantly.

"Then where the hell is he?"

She leaned forward, eyes cold. "How the hell should I know? Last I checked, you were the one in charge of them."

"Don't tell me the fearsome Julius Anderson has no control over his men." She mocks him.

Julius glares at his mother.