King's Kane

"BREAKING NEWS! January 3, 2025: A £5,000,000 ($6,100,000 USD) 20-carat black diamond, The KSI Eclipse, was stolen from KSI Headquarters in London. Authorities are searching for possible suspects and urge witnesses to contact them with information."

Stan grinned while listening to the news on the large TV in the living room.

"Center of attention, aren't we? You're all over the news." He beamed at the guy holding a pistol in his right hand and a rug in his left, cleaning it spotless.

The guy smiled proudly and continued his chore. After cleaning the pistol, he adopted a stance and aimed at the range target shaped like a human figure. His shot was spot-on-right on the head.

"Let's go?" he asked Stan as they prepared to head to a special room in the mansion.

Just then, his friends arrived.

"Wow, the price of the items you steal has gone up," Marco said, making himself comfortable on the sofa.

"Yeah, care to share how you managed to steal it? I want to learn from the best," Ven added, raising an eyebrow and mimicking Marco's casual pose.

Kane turned to them with an innocent look.

If Marco and Ven didn't know better, they would have believed the moron.

"You stole the black diamond, Kane. We know you did."

Instead of responding, he gestured for them to follow him. All of them proceeded to the secret room.

It wasn't the first time Marco and Ven had been there, but they were still in awe as they roamed their eyes around. The room was simple, with plain cream-colored walls, tiles, and a ceiling. What made the room exceptional were the paintings hovering all around. Realistic and conceptual paintings surrounded them-remarkable and worth a second glance.

When they noticed Kane's latest painting, they immediately glanced at him in astonishment. It was the black diamond!

Stan, standing beside Kane, smiled haughtily and stared at the newest addition to his dear friend and master's collection. The painting was so lifelike it felt like you could touch the diamond and pick it up.

"I know you're a great artist, and I've seen your works multiple times already, but I'm still in awe," Ven said. Just as he was about to touch the painting, Kane swiftly slapped his hand away, earning him a pout from Ven.

"No touching."

They scanned the place, and after they were content, they left the room.

"Go, I have somewhere to be after this," Kane stated, mockingly dismissing them.

"Can we just lounge here instead? I just arrived from New York, and I haven't slept a minute. Spare me, Kane," Marco grunted, plopping himself onto the sofa as if he owned the place.

"Ahuh, me too. I only had two hours of sleep because I had to finish my research. Don't you feel bad for us? Hmm?"

The two nonchalantly lay on the sofa, and Ven opened his phone, ignoring everyone afterward.

"Thick faces," Kane muttered, as if it were his fault they were sleep-deprived.

Stan nodded in agreement.

"You'd think they'd at least have the decency to get a hotel room," he added. "These freeloaders."

But before long, Marco was fast asleep, and Ven seemed completely detached from the world, glued to his phone.

A minute later, his phone slipped from his grasp as he dozed off. Kane and Stan exchanged a knowing glance and began to tidy up.

This was one of those days Kane had been looking forward to. He wanted to return to where he truly belonged-his throne.

He swiftly took the pistol from his pocket and slid it into his duffle bag's secret compartment. No one would have known that beneath all the paintbrushes, palettes, extra clothes, camera, and all the normal things an artist might carry-was a pistol, fully loaded and ready to fire.

With Stan's help, they had contacted the gallery a month ago, where his solo exhibit would take place. They arranged everything and sent invitations to influential people and media. Everyone of high status would be there, and he made sure that special someone would also attend.

With a wide grin, Stan tapped his shoulder and smiled.

This is the start.

The solo exhibition was held at Vanguard Gallery.

Every careful brushstroke was on full display, earning the attention it deserved. It didn't even feel like an art exhibition-it was more like a gathering, a cocktail party where social elites mingled, securing opportunities and connections.

High-profile figures hovered everywhere, and selling the paintings was the least of their concerns. They were all sold in a split second.

For all of this to happen, one figure had to be honored-none other than Kane Soren Vitali, the youngest renowned artist of his generation. At a young age, he had made a name for himself in the art world.

He had pushed through his career, no matter the consequences, and was now known as an inspiration, especially to the youth with the same aspirations. A refined figure, a respected one-or at least, that was his reputation. That was what he was known to be.

"Is it okay that we just left Marco and Ven?" Stan asked as he sipped his wine, standing beside Kane.

"Just let them be. They won't cause any trouble," Kane shrugged. Those two weren't his priority at the moment, and he knew they could take care of themselves.

Stan started to voice his concerns. "What if someone attacks while-" but Kane silenced him with a gentle gesture, placing his index finger in front of his lips.

Stan's words trailed off, and he clamped his mouth shut. Perhaps his worry stemmed from his limited knowledge of Kane and his friends. After all, Stan had only been around for a year and had only seen Marco and Ven four times in that entire period.

Meanwhile, Kane remained relaxed, observing the crowd. He greeted people from time to time, receiving endless congratulatory messages. Yet his eyes were searching-for a certain something.

Or rather, a certain someone.

Despite his calm and composed appearance, his gaze was hunting for his prey. It never stopped roaming-until it landed on the gallery entrance.

A man in a suit entered, accompanied by high-ranking officials and subordinates as if they were protecting him. He walked slowly toward Kane.

From the outside, Kane might have looked pleased by his presence, but inside, his blood was boiling with hatred.

The man stopped in front of him. Kane felt it-like all his blood had drained, leaving his body cold when their gazes met.

It was as if those eyes were dead. Lifeless. Emotionless.

And then, the man spoke.

"King Kairos Marchetti."

That man-King-introduced himself and extended a hand for a handshake.

Instead of taking it, Kane blinked, momentarily stunned, thinking his mind was playing tricks on him.

King smiled-a playful curve on his lips-before returning to his stoic demeanor.

Kane's blood boiled even more, but he remained calm. Regaining his composure, he extended his hand, mirroring King's action-smiling, then turning stoic once again.

"Mind chatting with me for a while? Just the two of us?"

Kane was adamant.

And the fire inside him was raging.

King's amber-hued eyes were dazzling, yet they lacked life. Kane was determined, but something about King's gaze unsettled him. The man in front of him-King-had agreed to his request and ordered his subordinates to leave without him.

Now alone, Kane focused on the man seated beside him-the same seat Stan had occupied earlier. He had also asked Stan to leave once King's subordinates had gone.

"How was it?" Kane asked, twirling his wine glass without looking at King.

"What?" King's tone was playful and mischievous, unlike his usual cold and stoic demeanor.

Kane turned to face him, once again struck by his eyes. He was furious but knew better than to lash out. "How does it feel, enjoying a company you stole and living with the hideous things you've done?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. His anger had never faded after all these years, and his goal remained unchanged-he wanted the man before him to suffer.

But King didn't react. He said nothing. What made it even more infuriating was his smirk. He simply smirked at Kane and sipped his wine as if the conversation didn't concern him.

Kane laughed dryly, catching King's attention.

"There's an auction later," Kane informed him, rising to his feet. "Just one item. It's the main event."

"Cabecilla."

Kane left him at the table.

That single word made King freeze. He continued sipping his wine, deep in thought, until the main event began.

The auction featured the Black Diamond painting. People gaped at it, but King wasn't naive-this wasn't just an auction. It was a threat.

As the bids climbed higher, Kane's smile grew more radiant, something King could see even from his seat.

Cabecilla-that was what they called him.

A leader of those who committed wrongdoing or misconduct.

King chuckled softly, leaning back in his leather seat. He knew exactly what Kane wanted. And he was willing to give it to him.

He raised his paddle. "Three hundred fifty million pesos."

The room fell silent. Everyone gasped. No one dared to bid higher. That amount matched the value of an actual black diamond. How could a painting be worth as much as a real gemstone? The thought echoed in everyone's minds. This would surely dominate the headlines tomorrow.

Then, Kane flashed a victorious smile at King, who simply raised his glass in a silent toast.

King's men exchanged shocked and confused glances. Their boss's impulsive action had caught them off guard. That painting had to hold enormous significance for him to react this way.

Meanwhile, Kane continued to stare at King. He was pleased that King recognized the threat. He was a storm in motion, and his only goal was to bring King down and reclaim what was his-everything King had. In his eyes, King was nothing more than a thief... and a murderer.

'Now watch me. This is the art of revenge.'

"Congratulations, Kane. You got your way again," Stan remarked, grinning from ear to ear.

The party carried on. Many congratulated Kane, while the media hounded him for a statement. Investors flooded in, keeping him too occupied to look in King's direction again.

He had lost sight of him.

He didn't mind-until he felt someone slip something into his pocket.

He scanned the room but saw no one suspicious. Even Stan was busy conversing with business tycoons. When he was finally alone, sipping his wine, he retrieved the item. It was a piece of paper with a quote.

"This is your last act. I don't know how to protect you anymore."

His brow furrowed. Intrigued, his gaze searched the room until it landed on a pair of shoes stopping beside him.

It was the man who had been with King earlier-his right-hand man.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Raze Alconde," he said, offering a handshake. Kane accepted it with grace.

"Pleasure to meet you, too."

"My boss seems to like your work a lot," Raze remarked. "I'm an aspiring artist myself. Mind sharing your secret?" His smile was lopsided, his tone friendly. Kane sensed the subtle game at play and responded in kind.

"No secret. Just hard work." He even winked.

Raze actually laughed. "I guess I'll have to work harder, then." He was still grinning when he bid Kane farewell.

"Anyway, I should get back. Nice meeting you, Mr. Vitali. By the way, my boss wants me to tell you to take care."

"Nice joke," Kane muttered with a grimace.

The night continued with more drinks, conversations with Stan, businessmen, art enthusiasts, and media personnel. When the event finally wrapped up, Kane prepared to head home-until he received a message from an unknown number.

"Your friends are near death. If you want to save them, heed my order."

His eyebrows shot up. He wasn't drunk enough to fall for a prank. Those two idiots could handle themselves.

Instead of panicking, he showed the message to Stan. Stan immediately called Marco and Ven, but neither answered.

Curiosity turned to concern when another message arrived-an image of his two friends, bloodied and bound to chairs in his own home.

His heart pounded. His fists clenched.

He sprinted to his car, ignoring Stan's calls. His only thought was their safety. His hands trembled with urgency.

"Kane! Let me come with you," Stan urged, looking worried.

Kane refused. "Call the team. Tell them to meet me at my house. We need to corner those bastards and secure the storage."

His words were rushed. Stan nodded and did as he was told.

Kane started the engine. He sped down the road, trying to think rationally. Marco and Ven were fighters. It would take a lot to bring them down.

Unbeknownst to him, someone was in the backseat.

"Slow down, Kane..."

A voice.

His fear was momentarily replaced with alarm and confusion.

Instead of slowing down, he floored the gas, pushing the car to its limit. His right hand reached for the hidden compartment where he kept a knife.

But before he could act, cold metal pressed against the nape of his neck.

The barrel of a gun.

"I said... slow down."

He had no intention of obeying.

He prepared to accelerate further when, in the blink of an eye, a cloth was pressed over his mouth.

The scent was sharp. Chemical.

His body fought to stay conscious, but darkness swiftly consumed him.

Raze took the wheel as Kane succumbed to oblivion.

"Boss, he's down," Raze reported over the phone while pulling over.

He repositioned Kane in the backseat before driving off again.

"Bring him over."

The voice on the other end was unmistakable-King.

Raze stole a glance at Kane's unconscious form, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

Was this the right move?

Still, he trusted his boss.

"Boss... will you be okay?" Raze asked, unable to suppress his concern. He understood the weight of these actions.

"I will be," King replied.

Raze exhaled heavily. He had no choice but to see this through.

"What about the storage? What do we do about it?"

King clicked his tongue. "Let them keep it. They can protect it themselves. Just send some of our men in secret for extra security."

"Copy that," Raze responded, shifting gears.

The road ahead was long.

And the game had only just begun.

Kane woke up gasping for breath, trembling from a nightmare. It was the same nightmare every single time, reminding him of the pain. He was terrified for a while, sweat covering his face, but as he calmed down and looked around, he became alert. He remembered what had happened and immediately looked for his phone, but it was nowhere to be found.

He scanned his surroundings and headed toward the door. He wasn't expecting anything-he thought the door would be locked. But to his surprise, it was open. Scanning the place, he realized he was in a huge house-a mansion. He furrowed his brows as he walked around, ending up in the kitchen, where food was laid out on the dining table, but no one was in sight.

The living room was also deserted, and an eerie silence filled the entire mansion. His gut tightened with anxiety.

He had no idea what had happened to his friends. He was worried about the two of them, and his concerns doubled when he realized he hadn't been alone in the car all those times. He had mentioned the storage! Kane couldn't help but curse himself, wondering how dumb he could be.

Trying to get over it, he walked past the living room and tried to open the door to leave. He thought he would have to force it open, but no- 'Am I even being kidnapped?'

Fresh air welcomed him, much to his surprise.

Instead of feeling relieved, it only made him more anxious. He ran around to confirm his theory. And when he realized he was right, all hell broke loose.

He was on an island. Alone!

There were no boats anywhere, and judging by the surroundings, there were no nearby islands either.

He ransacked his mind, questioning what to do and why he was there. A conclusion formed in his head. Just as it did, someone spoke behind him.

"Kane..."

He didn't turn around. He was trying to calm himself. He wanted to kill the owner of that voice. And since they were alone on the island, no one could stop him-no one could even arrest him.

The person he hated most-the one who caused his suffering-was speaking to him. He couldn't just forgive. He didn't want to forgive. His plan to see him suffer kept running in his head like a broken record.

"What do you want? Why am I here?" He spoke in the coldest tone he could muster.

"I don't plan to hurt you. Just stay here for-"

"For what?!" Kane snapped, finally turning to face him.

King's amber eyes were still dull, still lifeless. They always caught Kane off guard. He wanted to rip them from their owner, to kill him right then and there. But that would be an easy death. He wanted to see King devastated. He wanted to drain the life from his eyes. But it seemed like he never would-because there was nothing left in them to take.

"I need to get out of here to bring you down. I need to get out of here because I want to see you in agony. I want to see you suffer. I want to see you break and bleed."

He was seething with anger, unable to bear looking at King for long-it reminded him of everything that had happened. Much to his annoyance, King didn't waver. Kane couldn't even read him. There was nothing in his eyes.

"You can do all of that here. You have to stay for a month. If you want to kill me, I'll let you do it here," King said, his tone laid-back.

Kane's rage nearly made him cry. He felt like he was the only one hurting. Even if he hurt King, nothing would happen.

Everything-every effort-felt useless. He grabbed King's collar and smirked. "Give me back the company. I might spare you."

Even killing the bastard wouldn't satisfy him. It wouldn't bring back everything and everyone he had lost. Perhaps, he could just take what was rightfully his-the company his parents had built, cherished, and loved. That was all he had left.

Materialistic as it may seem, but that was his only anchor now.

He couldn't let the bastard in front of him tarnish and ruin what his parents had worked so hard to achieve.

King's lifeless eyes flickered. He chuckled. "Ask me anything, Kane. But not that. I will never give it back to you."

Overwhelmed by rage, Kane pounced on him. But King didn't even try to dodge the punches. He laughed softly, those lifeless eyes staring back at Kane.

Kane had only landed a few blows when King collapsed. He left him there. He didn't care.

He was too enraged to care.

Kane spent his time calming down. He needed to focus, and he couldn't do that if he wasn't thinking straight.

He bathed, ate, and lay down on the sofa, lost in thought. Then, something came to mind.

He rushed outside and found King still lying unconscious.

Now that he was thinking clearly, he realized King might have his phone. He could use it to call for backup-or at least get an update.

Kneeling, Kane stared at him. His eyes were closed this time. No lifeless amber eyes in sight. Kane felt his own body relax-unlike earlier.

King wasn't moving at all.

Kane didn't realize he had been staring at him for five minutes straight.

He had all the time in the world, anyway. No rush.

While checking him, he noticed bruises all over King's body. He frowned, trying not to feel any sympathy.

He was about to check his pockets for a phone when he accidentally lifted the hem of King's shirt. What he saw made him pause.

Those bruises... Was he the one who inflicted them?

But no, they seemed excessive. Too much.

Curious, he carefully lifted King's shirt higher, revealing his chest. His body was battered. His face was covered in bruises, welts, and wounds. King wore long sleeves, so Kane pulled them up, seeing the same thing.

'Was my beating that intense earlier?'

Thinking back, Kane realized King had passed out quickly, too. He didn't want to jump to conclusions, but he wasn't sure if he had done this.

He didn't want to pity the monster before him.

But something within him still felt sympathy.

He reasoned with himself-he wouldn't kill him like this. No. He wanted to kill him slowly. He wanted to watch him suffer.

Still, he found nothing in King's pockets. No devices. Nothing.

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he carried King to the sofa. Just by lifting him, Kane could feel the heat radiating from his body.

'Damn it.'

He didn't treat him. The only courtesy he offered was placing him on the sofa.

Kane found books under the TV table. Since he couldn't do much else, he spent time reading. The TV was useless-no internet, no cable. Just a screen that needed a flash drive or CD.

As he read, he planned his escape. But every plan led to nothing-he couldn't do anything without King waking up.

He glanced at King, still unconscious. Thankfully, he was still breathing. Kane still had a chance to get out.

His gaze lingered on King's face longer than he realized. He only snapped out of it when King suddenly moved.

King didn't wake up. But Kane froze.

King was crying in his sleep.

The cold, stoic King-crying. His body shook.

Kane knew what was happening. He had experienced it firsthand.

King was having a nightmare.

He gradually calmed, but silent tears still streamed down his face. He mumbled something.

Kane leaned in to hear.

"I-I'm sorry... sorry... I'm sorry... I-I'm sorry..."

Hearing that, Kane froze.

He didn't know who King was talking to in his dreams, but rage slowly boiled inside him again. He forced himself to calm down.

King stayed like that until he drifted back into deep slumber.

Kane sighed. He had no choice.

Glaring at the unconscious King, he cursed under his breath.

Then, still seething with anger, he tossed a comforter over him.

And, with no other option, he returned to the room where he had slept earlier.