And neither did Titus—no matter how close the fire burned.
Viper turned toward the corridor, already feeling the absence where Titus should’ve been.
Judgment had been rendered here.
But the outcome wasn’t finished yet.
Viper stepped away from the bodies and moved into the service corridor.
This wasn’t abandonment. This wasn’t a retreat. Titus didn’t disappear to run.
He’s hunting.
Which made it more dangerous.
Law followed.
“What now?”
“We find Titus,” Viper said, already on the move.
Titus stood across the street from the residence, half-shadowed by a leafless tree and a parked delivery van. Morning was settling in around him, the street still quiet, the house dark and asleep.
The structure rose, expensive and silent behind a low iron fence—old stone, tasteful lighting, security that assumed deterrence was enough. He knew this man.
Not by name at first. By presence. By the way power bent rooms without ever raising its voice. Years ago. Different city. A different set of locked doors. Men in suits who smiled while monsters did the work.
Rage lived in his chest, hot and familiar—but contained. It always was.
He wasn’t here to kill.
He was here to decide if killing would be justified.
Titus mapped the exterior without moving from his place in the shadows, blending in.
Cameras—four visible, two likely blind. Motion sensors tucked low near the hedges. Security rotations were clean but lazy, guards trusting systems more than instinct. No patrols overlapping.
He clocked entrances, exits, and the rhythm of the place. Watched lights cycle inside. Timed a side door that opened once, briefly, then sealed again.
Everything suggested involvement.
Nothing proved it.
The not knowing scraped at him harder than certainty ever had.
He’d crossed lines before. He knew exactly what that cost—how fast judgment could turn into something you couldn’t walk back. Not again. Not without proof. Not even with memories clawing their way up his spine.
Titus exhaled slowly, forcing the heat down, grounding himself in the work. He stayed where he was, eyes fixed on the house, letting the moment stretch instead of breaking it.
A presence shifted behind him—subtle, controlled, familiar enough that his shoulders loosened before his mind caught up.
“You planning on breaking our rules already?” Viper’s voice came low and even, close enough to feel without turning.
Titus didn’t spin. Didn’t reach. He let the breath leave his lungs and stay gone for a second longer than necessary.
“No,” he said. “I’m planning on confirming them.”
Viper stepped up beside him, not blocking his view, not claiming space—just aligning. Two silhouettes in the shade, facing the same house.
