The blade came from behind.
A glint of silver. A grunt. And then—19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4bO17T4cux
“ELLA, DOWN!”
Vinci’s voice tore through the air like thunder. She ducked. Too late.
The knife grazed her arm, searing pain blooming hot and red.
Before she could scream, Vinci was already on the man—slamming him into the alley wall, his fist driving hard into the attacker’s jaw. Blood spattered. The man collapsed, unconscious or close to it, and Vinci grabbed Ella by the wrist.
“We have to move.”
“But—” she looked at the man, groaning on the pavement.
“Now!”
They ran. Through puddles and shadows, down twisted alleys where the streetlights flickered like dying stars. Vinci’s grip on her wrist was iron-tight, his jaw clenched, eyes wild.
Only when they reached an abandoned underpass did he stop.
Ella fell to her knees, panting. “What the hell was that?”
“I don’t know,” Vinci rasped, pacing. “I just—I felt something was wrong. I was already near your place. I saw the man waiting near the bakery, following you—”
“You were watching me?”
Vinci winced. “I don’t have an excuse. Something felt off today. Like I was being pulled.”
Ella swallowed. The cut on her arm throbbed. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No.” Vinci stared into the dark. “But it’s about to be.”
That night, Vinci sat in front of the bathroom mirror, soaked in sweat, heart pounding. His hands trembled as he stared at his own reflection.
“Eon,” he whispered, voice tight. “I know you’re listening.”
Silence.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
No response. Only the humming lightbulb overhead.
“I’m not letting you kill again.”
Then—
You're wrong.
The voice didn’t come from the mirror.
It came from inside.
You’re not stopping me. You let her bleed. I won’t let that happen again.
Vinci shook his head. “No. You’re not judge and executioner. That’s not justice.”
It is protection.
“I won’t become a monster to protect someone I—” He stopped. Bit down the truth.
Say it.
“No.”
But Eon was already uncoiling within him like a serpent rising.
2:14 A.M.19Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5CPqtsv8aL
Ella’s attacker never made it to the precinct.
He was found hanging by his shoelaces in an abandoned warehouse near Pandacan.
Cause of death: exsanguination from a precisely carved slice to the femoral artery.
It was surgical. Quick. Clean.
Too clean for a crime of passion. Too precise for suicide.
Ella stared at the coroner’s report the next morning, her mouth dry.
The body had been positioned like an art piece. The blood—used to paint something on the wall behind the corpse.
“I protect what he cannot.”
No fingerprints. No evidence.
But Ella didn’t need it.
She knew.
Later that evening, Vinci stood in front of her doorstep.
He looked exhausted. Paler than usual. Hands in his pockets.
“I know what you’re going to ask,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Ella replied softly. “Because if I ask, I’ll have to report it.”
His eyes met hers. “Then don’t ask.”
Ella stepped aside, letting him in.
The moment the door closed behind them, she whispered, “Thank you.”
Vinci flinched. “You shouldn’t thank me.”
“Then should I thank him?”
He didn’t answer.
The silence between them stretched like glass ready to shatter.
Ella’s voice cracked. “Vinci… how long has he been killing?”
Vinci leaned against the wall, eyes shut.
“Not as often as you’d think. Only when I… fail.”
“Is that what happened to Clarisse?”
He opened his eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
He didn’t deny it.
Ella poured herself a glass of water, her hands trembling. “So what now? You play cop by day, killer by night? Is this the part where I run screaming?”
“You should.”
“But I’m not.”
He stepped closer.
She could feel the energy shifting—something haunted and hungry behind his gaze.
“I don’t know how to keep you safe,” Vinci said. “Except like this.”
Ella took a breath. “Then let’s find another way. Before the next victim… is you.”
Vinci didn’t respond.
Because inside him, Eon whispered:
She is not afraid of you now. But she will be.
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