2026-02-09 20:05:36Inside the cramped bathroom, damp and reeking of cheap floor cleaner, Emily clutched Chloe so tightly she could feel her daughter’s heart hammering wildly against her chest. They were crouched in the corner, behind a thin, fragile plastic door.
“Mama… why are they yelling?” Chloe whispered, her voice hoarse from too much crying. “Where’s Papa? Papa said he was coming home with ice cream.”
Emily bit her lip until she tasted blood, forcing herself to hold back her sobs so no sound would escape.
“Papa is on his way, sweetheart. Papa’s buying the biggest ice cream for Chloe. Now close your ears, okay? Just pretend we’re playing hide and seek with Papa’s friends.”
BAM. CRASH.
The pounding on their apartment door grew more brutal. Each impact felt like a sledgehammer slamming into Emily’s chest. She knew the wooden door would not hold much longer.
“Hey! Emily! I know you’re in there, pretty!” a man’s raspy voice shouted from outside. “Don’t make this hard. Come out now or I tear this place apart and rape you in front of your kid!”
“Open the door, bitch! Your man’s already dead, crab food!” another voice chimed in, followed by loud laughter. “Now your body belongs to my boss, and nobody’s gonna know if I take a little taste first!”
CRACK.
The sound of splintering wood and snapping hinges told them their last line of defense had collapsed. Emily squeezed her eyes shut and hugged Chloe even tighter. Heavy footsteps entered their small living room.
“Damn, this place stinks,” muttered a thick built man named Marco. He kicked over the small dining table. “Find her. She’s gotta be hiding in the bedroom or the kitchen.”
“Boss, look at this. A picture of her husband,” Slim said, a skinny thug with yellowed teeth, holding up a framed photo of Eduardo. “How does a loser with a face like this get a supermodel wife? Life’s really unfair.”
CRASH.
Slim slammed the frame to the floor and ground Eduardo’s face beneath his dirty boot.
“Emily… oh Emily… come on out, sweetheart,” Marco said as he paced the room, dragging his baseball bat across the concrete floor, the scraping sound piercing and cruel. “I don’t wanna get rough. If you behave, maybe I’ll give you a nice warm up before I deliver you to Boss Claude.”
“Bathroom, Marco! It’s locked from the inside!” Slim shouted from the narrow hallway.
Emily’s heart nearly stopped. She stared at the bathroom door as it began to shake.
“Found you,” Marco whispered from the other side. “Come out nicely, beautiful, or I break this down and drag you out naked in front of your kid. Your choice.”
“Go away! Leave us alone!” Emily screamed, forcing courage into her voice. “The police are coming! I already called them!”
Marco laughed loudly, the kind of laugh that crushed courage.
“Police? In this district? You’re hilarious, Emily. The cops here wouldn’t show up even if a bomb went off, let alone to save a loser’s widow like you. Besides, who’s gonna believe a whore’s report?”
BOOM.
Marco slammed his shoulder into the door. The plastic cracked.
“Mama, I’m scared…” Chloe whimpered, struggling in Emily’s arms.
“Shh… Chloe, close your eyes. Don’t open them, sweetheart. Mama’s here,” Emily whispered through tears.
BOOM.
The door burst open. Marco stood there with a filthy grin, staring at the helpless pair. He licked his lips when he saw Emily’s thin nightgown.
“Well, well… look at this, Slim. We even got a little bonus toy,” Marco said, his gaze sliding toward Chloe in a way that made Emily’s blood boil.
“Don’t touch my child, you bastard!” Emily stood up, trying to block Marco with her trembling body.
Marco grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the bathroom wall, her head cracking against the tiles.
“Listen up. You’ve got nobody left. Eduardo’s dead. He died like a dog on the pier. Now you’re just a piece of meat to pay off that useless man’s debt.”
“Eduardo… he’s not dead… he just called me!” Emily screamed into Marco’s face.
Marco froze for a second, then burst out laughing along with Slim behind him.
“A call? Hahaha. Must’ve been his ghost calling from hell. I saw him beaten to death myself by Boss Claude. Stop hallucinating.”
Marco yanked Emily by the hair, dragging her out into the living room. Chloe screamed hysterically and tried to grab Marco’s leg, but Slim viciously kicked the little girl, sending her flying into the sofa.
“CHLOE!” Emily screamed. “Let me go, bastard! Do whatever you want to me, just don’t touch my child!”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’re definitely gonna do whatever we want to you,” Slim said as he stepped closer, his hand sliding toward Emily’s exposed thigh as her gown rode up. “But this kid’s too noisy. Maybe I should tape her mouth shut so we can focus.”
Marco threw Emily onto the filthy living room floor, littered with shards of Eduardo’s shattered photo frame. He stepped on her hair, forcing her face toward the broken doorway.
“Look at that door, Emily. Nobody’s coming to save you. No hero, no loser husband, just us,” Marco said as he crouched down, roughly grabbing her face. “I wonder if Eduardo ever made you scream and climax over and over like I’m gonna do tonight,” he hissed, kissing her cheek and brutally groping her chest.
“Eduardo will kill all of you…” Emily whispered, hatred blazing in her eyes as she slapped his hand away, but she was too weak.
“Hahaha. Eduardo? That pier loser?” Marco sneered, squeezing her chest again. “He couldn’t even stand straight in front of me without shaking.”
Marco stared at Emily’s furious glare, finding it intoxicating.
“The only thing your man’s doing now is rotting at the bottom of the sea, and the only thing you can do is enjoy my touch and choke on my manhood with that cute little mouth.”
Marco shoved himself close to Emily’s face.
“Come on. Unzip me.”
“Mama… Mama…” Chloe cried, unable to watch anymore.
Emily ignored Chloe’s screams. She refused to let her daughter see her beg or break. If she had to die, she would die without being defiled in front of her child.
Emily spat on Marco’s pants.
“Disgusting. I’d rather die than suck your rotten piece of trash.”
“Bitch!” Marco snarled, releasing her chest and raising his hand in fury.
Emily closed her eyes, waiting for the slap. She felt her life was over, that she had failed to protect Chloe. The ruin felt real, thick, suffocating.
But the slap never came.
Instead, Emily heard a gunshot.
BANG.
The deafening blast echoed from the corridor outside the shattered door.
Blood and fragments of brain sprayed across the floor near Emily.
Slim, who had been standing near the door laughing, suddenly lost the top half of his head. His body remained upright for a second before collapsing like a sack of grain.
Silence.
The world seemed to stop. There was only a ringing in Emily’s ears and the sound of Marco’s breath catching in terror.
“What… what the hell…” Marco stammered as he turned toward the doorway now swallowed by shadow.
There stood a man.
His clothes were soaked, clinging to a body that looked broader yet stiff. His face was deathly pale, his eyes burning red beneath wet strands of hair. In his right hand, a Glock 17 still smoked faintly.
He did not look human. He looked like a devil crawling out of the grave to collect vengeance.
“Eduardo?” Emily whispered, barely audible.
The figure stepped into the room. Each step left trails of seawater mixed with blood on the floor. He did not look at Emily. His gaze was locked on Marco, whose foot was still planted in his wife’s hair.
“What did you just say about me?” Eduardo’s voice was low, hoarse, and utterly inhuman. “Say it again. I didn’t hear you.”
Marco trembled violently. He tried to reach for the pistol at his waist, but his hands were paralyzed by terror.
“No… no way… you’re dead! I saw you thrown away!”
Eduardo tilted his head slightly, staring at Marco as if he were an insect.
“You’re not wrong. The Eduardo you knew is dead. Unfortunately, hell rejected me. Said I still had some lives to collect tonight.”
Eduardo raised the pistol and aimed it straight at Marco’s groin.
“Now move your filthy foot off my wife’s hair before I make sure you can never have children again,” Eduardo hissed.
“Whoa… calm down, Eduardo! We can talk about this!” Marco shouted, hands raised. “It was Claude’s order! I was just doing my job!”
“Wrong answer,” Eduardo said coldly.
BANG.
“AAAAAARRGGHHH!” Marco screamed as the bullet tore into his right thigh, dropping him onto the broken glass.
Eduardo walked closer, his movements calm, predatory. Ignoring Marco’s screams, he glanced briefly at Emily.
“Emily, take Chloe. Go into the bedroom, close the door, and don’t come out until I call you,” Eduardo ordered, his expression blank.
“Eduardo… are you… are you okay?” Emily stared at her husband with a new kind of fear. This was not the gentle Eduardo she knew. This was a monster wearing her husband’s skin.
“Go. Now,” Eduardo snapped, his voice rising, cold and absolute.
Emily scrambled to Chloe, who was still shaking on the sofa, and ran into the bedroom. As soon as the door closed, Eduardo turned back to Marco, who was crawling across the floor, trying to escape through the window.
“Where do you think you’re going, tough guy?” Eduardo stepped on Marco’s hand as it reached for the window frame.
CRACK.
“I’m just getting started,” Eduardo whispered with a grin as a black aura began to coil around his body.
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Ch 13. The Lost Memory
The world in Eduardo’s eyes felt like an old television broadcast that had lost its signal. Everything appeared gray, flickering, and filled with a deafening hiss of static. He could feel violent jolts, his back slamming against the stiff car seat, and the sharp smell of gasoline mixed with sweat stinging his nose. “Boss! Hey, Boss Eduardo! Wake up, damn it! Don’t die in my car. I just cleaned the seats with my spit this morning!” Gord’s voice sounded very far away, as if it were coming from underwater. Eduardo blinked his eyes, which felt glued shut by thick fluid. He touched his own face. Wet. Cold. When he looked at his palm under the dim glow of the streetlight, the color was not red. It was black. Pitch black, like bitter squid ink that smelled of rotten copper. “Hah... hah...” Eduardo jolted upright, his body shooting up so fast that his head slammed into the roof of the battered sedan. THUD! “Whoa, easy, Boss! You just passed out for ten minu
Ch 12. Dawn Raid on the Gambling Shop
The shop house on Roses Street stood arrogantly among rows of shabby buildings that seemed to have long surrendered to poverty. Behind its steel doors, Claude's football gambling operation pulsed like a dark heart, pumping dirty money into the mafia boss's pockets while the surrounding residents struggled to survive. Eduardo shut off the engine of the stolen sedan two blocks from the target. Pale blue dawn light washed across the asphalt, casting long shadows that looked like the fingers of death. "I can't believe you actually brought me here, Boss," Gord whispered while struggling with the zipper of his jacket that had jammed again. His cursed luck at work as usual. "This place is the most heavily guarded spot in the district. These guys aren't the market thugs you shot earlier. These are Claude's elite crew. They carry real toys, not rusty pistols." Eduardo did not look at him. His red eyes, the result of exhaustion and the strain of the system, stared coldly at the
Ch 11. The Madman's Luck
Eduardo crouched in the shadows behind a pile of rotting wooden crates, his eyes narrowing as he watched the dark comedy unfolding before him. In the middle of a narrow alleyway that reeked of stale urine, a scrawny man with wild, unruly hair was being systematically beaten by three large thugs. The man was Gord. He looked more like a failed vagrant than a fighter. Yet, there was something about him that kept Eduardo from turning away. "Die, you dog!" one of the thugs roared, swinging a thick wooden plank directly at Gord’s head. Gord, who was busy trying to spit out a mouthful of bloody phlegm, suddenly slipped on a banana peel that had appeared out of nowhere. His body flopped to the side in a ridiculously clumsy motion. CRACK! The wooden plank smashed into the concrete wall exactly where Gord’s head had been a split second before. Even more absurdly, the plank snapped clean in two. "Damn it! This wood is rotted through with termites!" the thug cursed, st
Ch 10. The Predator's Preparation
Eduardo stood in front of the motel door, its paint peeling and flaking, staring at the loose change left in his palm. There were only a few coins and one crumpled ten dollar bill. Enough to buy two pieces of cheap bread, not enough to pay for his family’s shattered dignity. He placed the money on the small table beside the bed, right next to Emily’s limp hand as she slept. Eduardo did not leave a note. A ghost left no messages. “I’m going to get breakfast,” he whispered softly, more to himself than to Emily, who might have been trapped in another nightmare. Eduardo stepped out of the room, closing the door so gently that not even a click was heard, a new habit formed since the Shadow Step system had taken root in his body. He walked toward the stolen sedan parked beneath a dark, leafy tree. Once in the driver’s seat, Eduardo checked his weapon. Rico’s Glock 17. “Two bullets,” he muttered, staring at the nearly empty magazine. “One for the lock, one for the sur
Ch 09. The Breathing Ghost
The mirror above the motel sink was crusted with grime and split by cracks, reflecting a man Eduardo barely recognized as himself. He pulled off his shirt, which now looked more like a blood-soaked rag than clothing. Under the flickering neon light, his body was a horrifying sight. His skin was pale as porcelain, yet his muscles appeared denser, more pronounced, as if forcibly carved from within. On his left side was a stab wound from Jojo’s knife that had slipped between his ribs. It was no longer bleeding heavily. Instead, a clear fluid mixed with black flecks pulsed from it. “Damn it,” Eduardo hissed. He grabbed the rough motel hand towel, clenched it between his teeth, then poured cheap alcohol he had found in the stolen car’s first aid kit directly onto the wound. “ARGHH!!!” The scream was muffled by the towel. The pain was not just a surface sting, but like electrical current burning through his nerves. Strangely, in the middle of that agony, a system not
Ch 08. Flight Beneath the Rain
The SUV’s worn tires screamed as Eduardo wrenched the steering wheel, forcing the vehicle onto a muddy dirt path. Rain poured down relentlessly, as if the sky itself wanted to drown this city of sins. Inside the car, the atmosphere felt colder than the air outside. “Edu, slow down! You’re going to get us killed!” Emily shouted, clutching the handle above the door. Eduardo ignored her. His eyes were locked on the trembling rearview mirror. He had just seen the flash of police lights at a major intersection. They were looking for this car, a stolen vehicle already wrecked and soaked in blood. “We need to change vehicles,” Eduardo muttered. His voice was flat, emotionless, like a machine processing data. “How are we supposed to do that? We don’t have any money, Edu! We didn’t even pack enough clothes for Chloe!” Emily’s voice edged toward hysteria. She glanced back at their daughter, who was asleep from exhaustion, though her body jolted every time the car hit a potho
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