“But how do you know it was a sniper?” I ask.
He turns and shows me a cut on his bicep. I cover my mouth. “You need first aid.”
He shakes his head. “I’ll deal with it after I drop you off.”
“Was it from a bullet?”
He nods, frowning. “It wasn’t meant to kill. Phantom never misses his target. It was meant to chase us away. But why?” His frown deepens.
“And how do you know it’s that Phantom guy?” I ask, unable to follow.
He pulls a bullet from his pocket and shows me. The tip gleams black, the color merging into brown in a strange pattern. Intricate spiral grooves are etched along its shaft.
“This is Phantom’s bullet. No one knows how to replicate the coloration and pattern of this bullet. Apart from the color, these grooves are another sign, theystabilize the shot over extreme distances. Only he takes shots beyond three kilometers, and for that, he needs bullets like this. If you see a bullet like this, it’s him.”
He watches me with a serious look. “It could be related to you. I’ll tell Zloban about it.”
I nod and look away.
Underworld’s most-wanted sniper. Phantom. An old conversation between Pa and Ma replays in my head, one I didn’t understand back then but can now, very clearly.
“He’s something humans have never seen before, Flora. He can aim from distances people can’t even imagine. I’m so proud of him.” Pa’s voice had been full of pride.
Ma scoffed. “You’re proud of training someone to kill. His intelligence could have been used for the benefit of humanity, but you and Alex are too busy turning him into a weapon.”
“We’re not making him into anything. No one can force him to be what he doesn’t want to be. You can’t understand what satisfies his soul. He’s capable of destroying the whole world and feeling not an ounce of regret afterward. He becomes Phantom when his darkness focuses on killing a single person. That’s far better than burning everything to the ground.”
I need to see him and ask what he wants. First he staged this bullshit, and then he hurt the very person he called here from New York to go on a date with me.
chapter 20
Avira
I didn’t tell Mama and Daddy about that shooting drama. I know Zoan’s sniper identity isn’t a secret for them. There’s only one person in this house whom everyone keeps inside a pink dollhouse. In my case, it’s a yellow dollhouse.
I haven’t seen him since last night. Now, as much as I’m mad at him, I’m also missing him. I’ve never ever fought with him. No matter my state of mind, I always spoke with him before going to bed.
I close my desktop when I notice the time. It’s past midnight. Because of all the drama in my life, I’m in a surprisingly favorable writing state—intensely irritated.When you write, the face of the emotion doesn’t matter, only its intensity does.
I slip on my flip-flops and walk out of my room, closing the door silently behind me. Tiptoeing, I reach his room and check the door. It opens.
I walk inside and close the door just as silently. The room is swallowed in darkness. Clouds obscure the moon, leaving no outdoor light. The eerie silence of the room does an excellent job of giving it a graveyard-like feel.
I look around, feeling blind. But to my relief, the clouds shift, letting a sliver of moonlight through. My eyes start adjusting to 0.1 lux of light intensity.
His bed is empty. I step closer. There’s no sound coming from the bathroom. Has he not returned? Well, I’m not going anywhere. I will wait for him. I have questions he needs to answer.
I proceed to sit on the bed when my eyes land on a figure huddled in the corner on the floor. My body freezes mid-air as I meet eyes that seem to have absorbed all the light in the room, glowing in the darkness, not like the sun or the moon, which banish shadows, but as if the darkness itself was born from them. His gaze is all-consuming, locking onto mine.
I lift myself slowly, keeping eye contact. I don’t know what else I would see in this darkness apart from his glowing eyes, and even if I could, I don’t want to see anything else. His gaze pulls at my very soul, demandingit leave me and reach him. And I want my soul to merge with his, to never leave his blackened one, so he won’t have to live alone in the abyss he rules.
I walk toward him. No matter how furious I am, I cannot resist immersing myself in his darkness when I see it consuming him. If anything wants to consume my Zoan, it has to consume me first.
I settle in his lap, resting my head against his neck and wrapping my arms around his waist.
“I hate you,” I whisper.
He pulls me into his arms tightly. We remain like that on the floor for a long, silent stretch.
