Jimmy paced around the room, his hands flexing at his sides. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was wrong about this whole thing, but his gut wouldn't stop screaming that something was off.
"Would you relax? It's all going to be fine," Monica said to her son as she twisted her hair into a bun. Her tone was calm, but the twitch in her fingers and the restless flick of her eyes told another story. Lately, she'd been feeling half-insane—everywhere she turned, she thought she saw faces from her past. Faces that were supposed to be dead… or that she had wished were dead.
"You need to relax. Everything will go according to plan. Knight has no idea what's coming for him—it's going to be a sweet surprise," Mark said without looking up from his phone.
Jimmy rolled his eyes and sighed, then turned back to their mother. "Mom, I just don't have a good feeling about this. And you know I'm always right about things like this."
Monica sighed, parting her lips to calm him for the tenth time in an hour, but Jimmy cut in.
"Okay, at least if we shouldn't be following Takeshi and his men, we should stay here."
Mark's head snapped up. He stared at his brother with open disgust. "Why do you have to be such a wimp? You weren't like this before. But ever since Knight beat your ass, you've been acting like a weakling."
Jimmy's eyes narrowed. "I've had enough of your mouth. I'm done with you, you punk."
He lunged at his brother, but before he could get close enough to grab him, Monica stepped in, gripping Jimmy's arms. He didn't look at her—his glare stayed locked on Mark, who leaned back in his chair like he was trying to get out of punching range… but not far enough to lose the smug expression.
"Let it go," Monica said firmly.
Jimmy finally looked down at her. The tired, gaunt look in her eyes made him pull back, his shoulders relaxing just slightly.
She took a deep breath. "The only people you're allowed to hit are Knight and Genesis. Not each other. How are we supposed to take down someone like Knight if we can't even hold it together as a team?"
Jimmy nodded reluctantly. "You're right. Sorry, Mom. But warn Mark to watch his mouth when he talks to me."
Mark folded his arms and stared at the wall, clearly not taking Jimmy's words seriously.
"Warn him, Mom," Jimmy said again, his voice low. "Next time, I won't hold back."
Mark finally turned to him, smirking. "Just like you held back when Knight beat the strength out of you and—"
He didn't get to finish.
Monica's head snapped toward him so fast that both brothers froze.
"Mark," she said, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Not. Another. Word."
Mark's smirk faltered, but he kept her gaze, trying to prove he wasn't scared. Monica didn't blink. The silence stretched until Mark finally clicked his tongue and looked away.
"Good," she said, exhaling slowly. "We don't have the luxury of petty fights right now. You think Knight's going to care who insulted who when he's burning this whole city to the ground? No. So stop making my job harder."
Mark muttered something under his breath. Jimmy took a step toward him, but Monica's look nailed him to the floor.
"I said enough."
The room fell into silence, broken only by the steady ticking of the old wall clock. Monica smoothed her skirt like she was brushing away the tension in the air.
"We stick to the plan. Takeshi moves first, we follow the signal. No improvising. No wandering off. No hero acts. If either of you can't handle that, say so now."
Jimmy crossed his arms but stayed quiet. Mark leaned back again, jaw tight.
"Good," Monica said. But her gaze lingered on Jimmy a moment longer, like she could feel the storm still brewing under his skin.
"And we need to be there," she added. "There's no way I'm missing the front-row seat to what's about to happen. But if you don't feel like it, you stay."
"Yeah, stay," Mark murmured, almost to himself. Nobody even looked his way.
Then his phone buzzed. He glanced down, smirking when he saw the sender. But his smile faded just a touch when he read the message.
It read:
Zarina: Can I come with you, please? I need to be there too. I don't want to hear what happened on the news—I want to watch that bastard die a slow, painful death… just like what he did to me.
Mark stared at the message.
"Car's here—we need to go," his mom called from the door.
He stood, eyes still fixed on the phone. Glancing at his mother and brother, he knew there was no way they'd agree to let Zarina join them. She was someone he'd only known for barely two weeks. But that didn't matter. He loved her. He trusted her.
She wasn't just another girl he wanted to sleep with—she was different. Special.
As they stepped out of the house, Mark's thumbs began moving over the screen, typing out a reply.
Half an hour later
They crouched low in the bushes, their clothes blending with the dark leaves. Ahead, the Yakuza advanced on the mansion, silent and deliberate. They thought they were unseen—but Mark and the others watched every step.
It was almost too easy. Two of Knight's men were already down, their bodies lying still where silencer rounds had dropped them. The intruders moved up the grand staircase toward the double doors.
Through the living room window, Mark could see shapes shifting behind the curtains—human silhouettes. The Yakuza didn't hesitate. They didn't care who got caught in the crossfire.
One of the men shoved the doors open and fired at the nearest figure. It dropped instantly. No screams. No chaos.
That's when it hit them.
Those weren't people at all. They were mannequins.
And the real surprise was about to begin.