Chapter 6 THE FIRST KILL

"Through the church's ruins, the wind howled.

Cain didn't anticipate going back there. But he had been lured there for some reason.

Not merely memories.

Not merely ghosts.

Guilt.

The black-scorched walls served as a reminder of time and fire. Pews were broken. The crosses were broken. A child's toy, however, was in the middle of the altar, unaffected by the ash.

A horse made of wood.

It has chipped legs. The paint was no longer vibrant.

Cain's heart was racing as he gazed at it.

He recalled this location.

Not on a mission.

Not through monitoring. From early childhood. He was killed for the first time here.

For years, he had suppressed the memories, telling himself that his family's murder was the first real blood. However, that was untrue.

This location, this broken church, had been here before.

He was just ten.

And he had looked exactly like the boy he had killed.

They were brought here by Victor. Six kids. Every orphan. Everyone was selected.

He recalled the bus ride. The sandwiches were cold. The quiet. Victor never grinned. He just observed. As though anticipating which of them would snap first. It was dubbed The Selection. An instinct test. of allegiance. Of aggression.

The kids were instructed to wait in different rooms in pairs.

Each room's children would only depart one at a time.

Cain and a youngster named Eli had been put in the basement. Eli remained silent. Nice. They exchanged candies. Stories that were shared.

When the door latched behind them, Cain recalled how the boy's hands shook. The sound of the intercom crackling to life was recalled.

Victor's speech was clinical and quiet.

"Just one of you gets out of here.

When the other is dead, the door will open.

Cain yelled, Pounded on the door and Pleaded.

Eli had shed tears. Then there was a snap.

Cain didn't remember the fight clearly. Just flashes. A broken bottle. Screams. Blood.

When the door opened, Eli wasn't breathing.

And Cain's hands were red.

He stood now in the ashes of that same church, decades later, the ghost of Eli at his back.

The whispers had grown louder ever since he found Malik's file.

Subject Two.

Another child was molded by Victor.

Another weapon in waiting.

Cain knelt beside the wooden horse and picked it up.

Beneath it, someone had carved into the stone floor.

"I'm still alive."

His blood ran cold.

He was not alone in remembering.

Dr. Vosk files were still open back in the safehouse. Cain looked for any reference to the church in the pages of the undertaking Regarding Eli.

However, something was off. He looked through the blacklist. The Selection site is not mentioned. There was no indication Victor had ever been back there.

But someone had.

That implied one thing:

Malik was back.

He had left a message as well.

Cain stayed up late.

He was unable to. Not when Eli's spirit was weighing heavily on his chest. Not with the icy conviction that his first kill had been a manipulation rather than a choice.

He wasn't made for retribution. He was designed.

Everything he believed about himself, the justice, the mission, the rage had been planted like seeds.

Watered with blood.

He lit a cigarette and stared into the flames dancing in the fireplace.

How many others had Victor raised like him?

How many had failed?

And what if Malik hadn't?

Two days later, Cain broke into a former military black site known as "The Root."

Buried under false records and a new façade, a private tech lab now owned by a shell company, it had once been one of Victor's training camps.

He moved silently through the halls, disabling security, and knocking out guards with precise, non-lethal force. He wasn't here to kill.

Not tonight.

He was here to remember.

The lower levels had been sealed, but Cain found the old lift shaft. He slid down the cables, landing hard but silent.

Then he walked into a room he hadn't seen since childhood.

Scratched walls. A two-way mirror. Bloodstains long since dried.

He stood in the center.

And the whispers came.

"You hesitated."

"He cried."

"You didn't stop."

Eli's voice.

Clear.

Accusing.

Cain dropped to his knees.

For the first time in years, he wept.

But not for Eli.

Not entirely.

He wept because part of him had enjoyed it.

Not the killing.

The power.

The control.

He had been starved of it after watching his mother scream. Watching his father fall. After being helpless.

Victor had given him a weapon and pointed it at another child.

And Cain had pulled the trigger.

He left The Root with one goal.

Find Malik.

But Malik was already watching.

A package arrived at the safe house the next morning.

No return address. No stamps.

Cain opened it slowly.

Inside: a single black feather.

And a flash drive.

He slid it into the laptop and hit play.

The video was grainy. Dark.

But the face was unmistakable.

Malik.

Grown now. Taller. Eyes sharper.

But still the same darkness behind them.

He sat in a chair, looking straight into the camera.

"Cain. Brother."

"You were the prototype. I was the evolution."

"Victor taught us both how to kill. But he never taught us how to live."

"That's why you're unraveling."

Malik smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You killed Eli because they told you to."

"But me?"

He leaned forward.

"I killed because I liked it."

Cain froze.

Malik continued.

"I remember the sound his skull made."

He laughed.

"And I remember the sound your mother made too."

Cain's heart stopped.

Malik held up something.

A photo.

Of Lena Stryker.

Burned at the edges.

Malik's voice lowered.

"Victor didn't kill her. I did."

"And I can't wait to see what your face looks like when I take someone else from you."

The video ended.

Cain sat in silence.

The fire inside him didn't rage.

It didn't scream.

It was cold.

Controlled.

Deadly.

This wasn't about justice anymore.

This was a war between monsters.

And Cain had just remembered his first kill not to regret it

But to finish what it started.