The Bargain

Ethan ventured alone to Warehouse No. 9.

This place lay far from the city's bustling streets, shrouded in desolation. The dim, flickering streetlights cast erratic glows upon the towering stacks of shipping containers and rusting steel frames. Shadows intertwined, forming the gaping maw of a beast lying in wait to devour any who dared trespass.

Clenching his fists, Ethan felt the faint sting of sweat against his palms. This time, he wasn't here for himself—he was here for his family.

He understood the peril of this negotiation. Yet, it was his only option.

—Five hours earlier, he had dialed the number on that enigmatic black card.

The call was answered after two rings. A deep voice came through, familiar yet laced with exhaustion.

"…I almost thought you wouldn't call."

Ethan froze for a split second before lowering his voice. "It's you?!"

"Don't sound so surprised." A faint chuckle escaped the wounded man on the other end. His tone carried an air of inevitability. "You helped me once. It's only fair that I return the favor."

Ethan took a slow, steady breath before cutting straight to the point. "My parents have been taken by the men in black. They left a note—told me to meet them at a designated location. They also warned me not to involve the police."

A brief silence followed. Then, the man murmured, almost as if confirming a suspicion, "…Just as I thought."

Ethan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"They were bound to come after you," the man replied, his voice calm, as though this had been inevitable. "I knew they wouldn't let you go so easily—not after you interfered with their hunt."

Ethan's expression darkened. "Then why did you leave me that card?"

"Because you were already entangled in this." The man spoke with blunt finality. "And now, we share a common problem—these people won't stop pursuing you, and I need to eliminate them before they eliminate me."

"So… do you have a way to save my family?"

"I do." His tone was unwavering. "But you must understand—this solution demands that you step willingly into danger."

Ethan was silent for a few moments. Then, his gaze hardened. "Tell me what I need to do."

Now,outside Warehouse No. 9. The conversation replayed in his mind, his pulse steady, his muscles taut. There was no room for error tonight.

He scanned his surroundings. No movement. After a deep breath, he stepped inside.

The warehouse was even darker than the exterior, its vast interior a maze of rusted metal racks. The air was thick with the scent of dampness and machine oil. Only a single industrial light flickered feebly from the ceiling, casting eerie, wavering beams over the cluttered space.

A voice, sharp as a blade, sliced through the silence.

"You're earlier than we expected."

Ethan lifted his gaze. Four men in black stood in the shadows behind a row of shelves, their elongated silhouettes stretching ominously under the dim light.

One of them stood behind an old table, upon which sat an open laptop. The screen glowed faintly, revealing a blurred, indistinct image—some sort of surveillance feed.

Ethan's voice was cold and steady. "Where are my parents?"

The leader of the group smirked. With a languid motion, he tapped the laptop's screen. The image shifted—

On the monitor, his parents sat bound to chairs, their mouths gagged, eyes wide with fear. The background was a windowless room, its walls lined with rusted iron hooks—an abandoned factory, perhaps.

Beneath his sleeve, Ethan's fingers curled into a fist, his nails pressing into his palm. Yet his voice remained controlled. "I came as you asked."

The leader's smirk deepened. "Good. I appreciate your cooperation."

Ethan inhaled slowly. Now, it was time to set the plan in motion. His gaze sharpened as he spoke. "You want the man, don't you?"

The black-clad figure tilted his head slightly. "That's right. We want him—and what he possesses."

"Then let's make a deal." Ethan's tone was unnervingly calm. "Release my family, and I'll give you a way to find him."

A murmur passed between the men. Suspicion flickered in their eyes.

Their leader scoffed. "And you expect us to take your word for it?"

Ethan merely shrugged before producing the black card from his pocket. "You don't have a choice."

He held it up, letting them see the number etched upon its surface. "This card was given to me by the very man you're after. It contains his direct contact."

His voice turned razor-sharp. "If you refuse my terms, I'll destroy it right now. And let me be clear—I will not let you use my family as leverage against me."

The smirk vanished from the leader's face. His gaze darkened, scrutinizing Ethan with newfound intensity.

Ethan met his stare, unwavering.

In this deadly game of negotiations, he knew one thing for certain—hesitation meant defeat.

Within the warehouse, an eerie silence hung thick in the air.

Ethan could sense it—the men in black were weighing his worth, assessing his leverage, calculating whether this exchange was in their best interest.

The longer the standoff lasted, the more likely they were to accept his terms.

At last, one of them spoke. "I must admit, your audacity is unexpected," the leader remarked, his tone devoid of warmth. "But before we agree to your proposal, there is something you should know—who we are."

Ethan remained silent, his gaze unwavering. He understood—these men would not reveal their identity without reason. This was the beginning of another psychological battle.

The leader shifted slightly, raising a hand to tap the laptop screen. The image changed abruptly, revealing a document stamped with a crimson seal, its surface densely packed with fine, cryptic text.

"Our organization—Nyx." His voice carried a chilling detachment. "A name you were never meant to know. A force you were never meant to cross."

Ethan stared at the screen, saying nothing.

"Our purpose is simple—to erase targets, leaving no trace behind. There are many in this world who are meant to disappear, and we… we ensure their existence is permanently erased."

A faint smirk curled at the man's lips, edged with cruelty. "In simpler terms, we are assassins—a clandestine order operating in the shadows."

A tremor of unease rippled through Ethan's mind.

He had long suspected these men were no ordinary criminals, but for them to so openly confess their nature—this was no mere gang. This was an organization governed by discipline, bound by a formidable power structure.

"We do not allow our targets to walk away." The leader's voice was frigid. "Yet that man—you know the one—he stole something from us. Something irreplaceable."

Ethan's eyes flickered. "What did he take?"

Rather than answering directly, the man leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "A list. A list that could bring death to many."

"Your 'friend' stole it and intended to deliver it to those who should never have seen it." There was a lethal edge in his words, his voice steeped in unspoken menace. "We will retrieve that document. And we will ensure that he never speaks again."

Ethan clenched his teeth, his pulse quickening.

The weight of this revelation was greater than he had anticipated. If the document was important enough for these assassins to go to such lengths—even abducting his family—it was far more dangerous than he had imagined.

"So," the man straightened, his gaze bearing down upon Ethan, "do you still wish to proceed with this transaction?"

Ethan drew a steady breath, suppressing the unease coiling in his chest. His voice remained firm. "I only care about my family's safety."

A flicker of amusement passed over the assassin's face, as though intrigued by Ethan's composure. "Very well. We accept."

Turning, he made a subtle hand gesture toward the shadows.

On the laptop screen, the surveillance feed shifted. Ethan's parents, though still bound, were now being escorted toward a waiting vehicle. Several men in black moved to unfasten their restraints and guide them inside.

"They will be returned home," the leader stated coolly. "But if you try anything foolish… I trust you understand the consequences."

Ethan's gaze remained locked on the screen, watching intently as his parents were ushered into the car. Only when he saw them safely seated did he allow himself the faintest exhale of relief.

"I need to make a call," he said, lifting his head. His tone brooked no argument.

The assassin raised a brow. "For what purpose?"

"I need to confirm their safe return myself."

A quiet tension stretched between them as the man studied Ethan's face, as though calculating his intent. Then, with a slight nod, he gestured to one of his subordinates.

Without hesitation, Ethan pulled out his phone and swiftly dialed home.

The ringing tone pulsed in his ear—once, twice—

"Hello?"

His mother's voice.

Ethan tightened his grip on the phone, his voice betraying a slight tremor. "Mom, it's me… Are you alright? Where are you now?"

"Ethan!" Relief and lingering fear wove through her voice. "We—we just got back home. We don't even know what happened… Where are you?"

Ethan inhaled deeply, steadying himself. "I'll explain later. Just lock the doors and stay inside until I return."

She started to say something else, but Ethan had already ended the call.

Turning back to the assassins, he met their gaze with unwavering resolve. "I've held up my end. Now it's your turn."

A glance passed between the men in black before their leader finally spoke. "Excellent."

"Well then… let us see if this card truly leads us to our prey."