Marcello gave an unimpressed sigh, his gaze sliding over Poatan’s jade-encrusted figure. The shattered shards of jade lay scattered across the garden floor, glinting faintly in the sunlight. They had been forcefully blasted away moments ago by Marcello’s expertly timed gust of air.

  "What even are you, man?" Poatan asked.

  "What?" Marcello raised an eyebrow.

  "Are you an oddity?" He pressed.

  "No." He said flatly.

  "Then, I don't get it."

  "You're having a tough time here, so I'll elaborate…It's genetic. Like I said earlier, it's the reason we were hunted."

  Poatan’s head turned sharply at the sound of a gate screeching open behind him. Gravel crunched underfoot as someone casually made their way down the garden path toward them. His gaze flicked back to Marcello, who now wore only a single ring—the blue opal. A chill crept into Poatan’s chest, an instinctive warning that something was very wrong.

  Marcello raised his hand, pointing the glowing opal ring directly at him.

  Poatan’s eyes widened as a sudden vacuum-like force surrounded him, pulling at his body. The sound of a bedsheet being ripped in two filled the air behind him. Before he could even turn to investigate, a massive force slammed into his back, sending him sprawling forward. His body hit the ground hard, skidding across the dirt, the jade plating on his skin sparking as it scraped against the rough surface.

  The tree that hit him had split in two on impact, and lay behind him. Its broken halves smoldered faintly from the kinetic force that had torn it apart. Poatan groaned, attempting to rise, but a crushing pressure pinned him to the ground. His limbs strained against the invisible weight, muscles trembling as he tried to push himself upright.

  "What are you doing?" Poatan snarled, trying to get to his feet.

  “Waiting,” Marcello replied simply, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond Poatan, out into the garden. His tone was calm, detached. “Woah,” he muttered, bracing himself as more energy from his ring surged, forcing him to hold it steady.

  "GRAAAHHHHHGGHH!" Poatan screamed. Jade erupted from his body in jagged, glittering spikes, his aura flaring like a living storm. The ground beneath him cracked from the pressure. His energy flowed from every pore. He attempted to push himself up. "How?" He finally gasped; the question hung in the air, wrapped in a shroud of bewilderment.

  The bushes nearby rustled, and a figure emerged, casually making their way toward the two of them.

  "I just allocated a majority of my energy to be channeled through this one ring at this time. Though, not all, as if I put too much through it. The ring will shatter, but before that, I'd crush you."

  "Why not just kill me?"

  "You aren't worth it."

  "Damn, Marcello!" Gemo yelled, jogging over. He gave him an impressed nod. Looking down at Poatan, 'I'd put him at about…at his peak? An eight,' he thought. "I thought I'd get here, and you'd be dead," he smiled at Marcello, "Y'know, it's honestly quite rare an actually experienced energy user ends up dead; usually, most avoid fights altogether, but you're different, M. You just don't give a fuck." Marcello didn’t respond immediately. His focus remained on Poatan, his hand steady despite the faint tremble in his fingers. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead, the strain of maintaining his ability beginning to show. Gemo held a shovel in one hand, and a container of gasoline in the other. "I got what you wanted me to bring. Where do you want him disposed of?"

  "It won't be here. Go out to either a desert or the countryside and bury his body," Marcello grunted.

  "I should kill him now, though," Gemo said, as energy began to build up around him. Curiously, he reached out to Poatan.

  "Don't touch him!" Marcello barked, his voice sharp.

  "Oh," he held up his hands mockingly, "Okay," he smirked.

  "Wait... please," Marcello said, then his gaze bore into Poatan. "Poatan, tell me everything you know about KTA and John Doe."

  They were met with a low chuckle. "One thing you should'a figured out by now is that I ain't a rat."

  "Yeah, you got a real 'dindu nuffin' look to you." Gemo then looked at Marcello, waiting for confirmation. "You look like you wanna look away," he said slyly, goading him with his words.

  Marcello clenched his fists, his expression darkening. “Shut up,” he snapped. His voice shook slightly, betraying the tension he was holding back. He stepped closer to Poatan, his voice dropping to a low growl. “Are you remorseful? You killed Bulwark, didn’t you? It was you, not me. You killed him!” His words came faster, each one heavier than the last, as he pushed down harder with his energy. “What are the abilities of the other KTA members? Do they know you’re here?”

  Poatan craned his neck to look Marcello in the eyes. "No."

  Marcello exhaled shakily, his control slipping for a moment. “Just do it,” he ordered Gemo. “Hurry up!”

  Poatan's eyes blanked as Gemo's energy pierced Poatan’s body with precision, snuffing out his aura in an instant.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  Gemo watched Marcello curiously, waiting to see how he would react.

  It was as if the light in his eyes died along with Poatan. He stared blankly at the body; Poatan's body, once bountiful and suffused with energy, was now just wisps of light around him. Marcello tried to cover it, but Gemo noticed. A glimpse of emotion. Utter disgust in himself.

  Reaching down, Marcello carefully removed the diamond Cuban-link chain from Poatan’s neck and the encrusted watch from his wrist. He slipped them on, his gaze falling to the pool of blood beneath his feet. His reflection stared back at him, fractured and distorted.

  "When will you be done?" Marcello asked, pulling out his phone, and dialing a number.

  "I'll be back by noon."

  "Yeah…it's me," Marcello said into the phone. "I won, so I'll be coming back now." Once the phone call had concluded, he turned, asking, "Did you actually think I'd die to him?"

  "Oh hell yeah," Gemo said matter-of-factly.

  "His phone is still off," Culian noted. He looked at Zheanni, who was busy grinding her teeth, pacing back and forth from the moment she'd walked through the hotel door. "When did he call you?"

  "It was early. Before ten, for sure."

  "Hm," Autxmn gave a disappointed hum, "He really hasn't come back?" he asked, not looking up from his piano keyboard which sat on the edge of the hotel bed. He picked up a notepad and started to write lyrics, humming as he did so.

  "Don't worry," Bryck said. "He ain't goin' out any time soon."

  "I'll keep looking," Zheanni offered.

  "No." They all looked toward the back of the room where John Doe had been the whole time.

  "Why the hell not?"

  "We can't change our plans unless we're sure. But if he has been killed, then our next course of action needs to change."

  Culian glared at John Doe, 'This dude. Being able to remain so stoic and calm. He has no fight in this.'

  The door slammed open, the teak wood splintering as it slammed into the wall. Conor stormed in, exposing the palm on his right hand.

  "No," Zheanni's voice caught in her throat.

  On the palm of Conor's hand is an intricate tattoo. A diamond design was drawn in its center, looking like it was woven out of black thread. Above that were smaller circles. Usually, there would be five, but one was missing.

  The ability, Familial Fealty. The ability, like a title, is granted to the current leader of KTA. It appears as a crest on the right hand of the leader. With this ability, the user will gain access to the energy abilities of those who have sworn loyalty to both the Silvio Family and KTA. Each circle on the crest represents a member of KTA. If one were to die, the circle would disappear. When this happens, the boss will lose access to their energy abilities. Conor was awarded Familial Fealty over his sister, Zheanni by their father.

  "What if his energy or energy ability was somehow stolen? Or perhaps he lost control of it?" John Doe asked.

  Conor shook his head. "Not how this shit works, man."

  Everyone looked at John Doe, waiting for his orders.

  "Okay," he said after a long pause. "If we're being hunted, then we'll just have to leave Apris."

  "Look, look, look, look!" Mitani said excitedly, shoving his phone screen at Marcello's face.

  An annoyed look flashed across Marcello's face as he tried to steady the device, squinting. "What am I looking at?" He said, confused.

  "Zheanni, is live right now," he pointed to the screen. "I've been watching for a few minutes, and the whole KTA party is all there too."

  "Okay?" Marcello said.

  Curious, Zoe ignored her magic trick and strolled across the room to watch the livestream.

  "They're leaving Apris. That's what they've been saying on here." The phone screen showed a shaky video of all the KTA members boarding a private aircraft.

  "Man," Wyrryr said on the livestream. "This flight is about to be a bitch."

  "Yo, speaking of bitches," the camera whirled, focusing on Conor. Zheanni pointed an acrylic nail at him from behind the camera. "Everyone look at this at nigga right here."

  "Huh? Bitch, I cunt hear you!" he shot back. "Can't hear your salty ass all the way up here on my throne."

  Mitani's amused smile quickly turned stern. "They're leaving, and it doesn't look like Ayla is with them."

  Zoe looked down, watching Marcello's face. Though his expression didn't change, she could tell his mind was racing.

  "This is unbelievable," Marcello muttered.

  "Not really," Mitani said. "You did just kill one of them this morning. He's not in the stream, and I don't think they'd just leave without knowing where their friend is, so they've got to know he's dead. That guy was a day-one for a couple of them."

  "Even if they did already know, why are they leaving?"

  "I'm sure security at Stygian Tower is going to be a bit more relaxed now that they're gone," Zoe mused.

  Marcello looked at her, then back to the screen, then to her again. "Yeah…you're right. I bet they're thinking that as well. Perhaps they're also thinking the person who killed their friend is gonna follow them back to New York."