Chapter 7 EYES THAT NEVER SLEEP

Cain hadn't slept in thirty-two hours.

Not because of fear.

Because of memory.

Because every time he closed his eyes, Malik was there smiling, watching, whispering truths that felt like knives.

And behind Malik?

Victor.

Always Victor.

A puppeteer in the shadows. The man who raised Cain from blood and grief and made him into something monstrous. But Cain knew now-he wasn't the only one Victor had molded. Malik had been forged in the same crucible.

But where Cain fought to remember who he used to be, Malik had let go completely.

He didn't kill to survive.

He killed to become.

Cain stood at the window of an abandoned high-rise overlooking the city's east district, industrial,and forgotten. His contact said Malik had been spotted here two nights ago, slipping into a warehouse protected by men with no flags, no names, and no conscience.

Mercenaries.

Ghosts.

Victor's fingerprints.

Cain adjusted the scope of the sniper rifle, sweeping the rooftops across the block. He wasn't expecting to see Malik-Malik was too careful for that.

But the men working under him? They weren't so smart.

He watched them through the scope. Ten men. All armed. Standard movement. Not random. Guarding something.

Or someone.

Cain didn't blink.

He watched.

Waited.

Studied.

That's what Victor had taught him: patience is a predator's sharpest tooth.

And Cain had sharpened his for years.

At 2:14 a.m., a van rolled up. No lights. No markings.

Two men exited, dragging someone between them.

A hooded figure.

Struggling.

Cain's breath caught.

Female. Small frame. Civilian.

Wrong place, wrong time?

No.

This was staged.

A message.

He raised his scope, locking on to the hostage's hand.

A ring.

Thin. Worn.

Familiar.

His chest tightened.

Lena's sister.

Adira.

She had disappeared after Lena's murder. Gone off-grid. Changed names.

But not well enough.

Malik had found her.

And now Cain understood the message in the video.

"I'll take someone else from you."

Cain moved.

Fast.

No plan. No backup. No hesitation.

Just fury.

Just the whispers screaming for vengeance.

He arrived at the warehouse in ten minutes-scaling rooftops, dropping silently between shadows, a knife gripped in his right hand like a second spine.

The guards didn't hear him.

Three fell before they hit the floor.

The fourth turned just in time to see Cain's eyes-cold, hollow, burning.

Then nothing.

Cain slipped inside.

The smell hit first: oil, gunpowder, rust, and blood.

The light buzzed overhead. One single bulb.

Adira hung from the ceiling by her wrists, arms limp, blood dried at her temples. Her mouth was gagged.

She remained still.

Cain felt sick to his stomach.

Never again.

Don't do that again, please.

He took a step forward.

He was halted by a voice.

from the dark.

Malik. "Be careful, sir. Some ghosts are set up to detonate.

Cain stopped. Then he noticed the cables. Small, neat, and accurate explosives were wired into Adira's body.

One mistake, and-

As he emerged from the shadows, Malik declared, "She's not dead." However, she will be. Unless you stop me.

Cain began.

Malik's coat was black. Something insane shone in his eyes A hunger, but beneath it, calculation.

Command.

He reminded Cain of the youngster he knew, only he was colder, Sharper. As though all of humanity had been destroyed and replaced by fire.

Cain's voice was steady and low. "Why her?"

Malik gave a shrug. She was important to Lena. And you cared for Lena.

He moved closer, moving like a predator around Adira.

"You're attempting to reconstruct yourself using their recollection. through females. by way of ghosts. It's pitiful.

Cain clinched his fists.

"You wish to murder me?" Malik smiled as he spoke. "You'll have your opportunity. However, not until you comprehend something.

Cain remained silent. Malik then took his usual action.

He told the truth.

"You think you were Victor's only success? You were just the first."

He stepped forward, close enough for Cain to see the small scar under his left eye-a scar Cain remembered giving him as a child in training.

"I watched you win the Selection. I watched you survive the missions. And every time you broke, they put you back together."

He leaned in.

"But they never had to fix me. Because I never broke."

Cain lunged.

But Malik was faster-detonator in hand, thumb twitching.

Cain stopped.

Malik smiled. "See? You're still ruled by guilt. Still chasing ghosts. Still afraid of losing what little soul you have left."

Cain's voice was ice. "What do you want?"

Malik's grin vanished.

"I want you to recollect the sensation of your first murder. Not the blood. Not the mess. The second after. The silence.

Cain remained silent.

since he recalled.

He was frightened by that. Malik took a step back and threw the detonator to Cain.

"It's up to you, brother."

Then he disappeared into the night.

With trembling hands, Cain hurried to Adira, neutralized the explosives, and freed her from the ropes.

She was inhaling.

Barely.

However, she was still alive.

He took her into the shelter of the night.

However, something trailed after them.

Not Malik.

No trail.

An epiphany.

Malik had no intention of beating him.

He was trying to become him.

To draw him back into the same pit of darkness Victor had raised them both in.

To erase the line between hunter and prey.

Between Cain...

...and the monster he feared becoming.

Hours later, Cain sat by Adira's bedside in another safehouse. She slept under sedation, bruised but stable.

The room was silent.

But he could feel the eyes.

Not Malik's.

Victor's.

The eyes that never sleep.

That watched from every camera. Every drone. Every satellite. Every child's scream in the night.

Cain lit a cigarette with shaking hands.

He wasn't just being hunted.

He was being studied.

Still part of the experiment.

Still the prototype.

Still Victor's property.

Unless...

He burned it all down.