14#14

14

The rain-soaked streets of Scotland glistened under the dim glow of streetlights, their light bouncing off the wet cobblestones. I moved quietly, my head down, concealed by a dark hood and half-face mask.

The chilly night air nipped at my exposed skin, but I pressed on, determined. My goal lay ahead.

In the distance, a silhouette emerged beneath a flickering lamp. Victor Salvani.

The sight of him made my insides twist with hatred. He stood there, chuckling into his phone, his voice dripping with arrogance. I slowed my approach, my heart racing. His words were unclear, but his tone—that of a man who believed himself invincible—was unmistakable.

Without hesitation, I closed the gap between us. He noticed me when I was close, abruptly ending his call.

"What—" His eyes grew wide as I revealed an object from my pocket.

"Hold on," he pleaded, his hands shaking as he raised them. "We can discuss this. Whatever you're—"

A sharp noise pierced the silence, echoing down the street.