The Yakuza men swept their eyes across the room as they stepped inside, backs against the closed door—a foolish mistake, but nothing happened… yet.
Their weapons tracked with their gazes, barrels shifting toward every shadow, every shape.
Every Mannequins.
Dozens of them. Some held what looked like custom-made plastic wine cups, others stood frozen mid-laugh, their heads bobbing faintly to the music humming through the room. The staging was unnervingly precise—humans at a party, except not.
The leader at the front stiffened. His instincts screamed. This wasn't right. This was a setup.
Knight and his men must have gotten wind of their plan—but how? No one knew except them and the Caldwells.
The leader's hand twitched toward the small device behind his ear. A sharp tap, and the earpiece crackled to life. He waited a few seconds for the connection, his voice low and tense when it came.
"Takeshi, it's worse than we thought. The place… it's staged. Mannequins everywhere. Knight's playing with us."
Static. Then Takeshi's cold, even tone: "Impossible. Only a handful of men had that intel. Stay sharp. Do not engage until I say."
"It's a trap, sir. We need to pull back….."
A chilling silence cut him off.
On the other end, something had shifted. The faint rustle of movement. Then, a voice that didn't belong to Takeshi, low, calm, and dripping with menace.
"Quiet now."
Knight stepped from the shadows of the hidden room where Takeshi had been hiding. How he'd gotten in—without footsteps, without alarms—was a mystery that made Takeshi's blood turn to ice. The silence was the answer: his men were already dead.
Knight's hand clamped over Takeshi's mouth. His other hand brought the phone to his lips as he spoke in flawless Japanese, his tone cold and razor-sharp:
「お前の男たちはもうすべて眠った.」
Omae no otokotachi wa mō subete nemutta.
"All your men are already asleep."
Gunshots cracked through the line. Screams followed, raw and agonized, before being abruptly cut off.
Knight's smile was cruel. Slowly, he ended the call and slipped the device into his pocket. His eyes met Takeshi's.
「久しぶりだな,友よ.」
Hisashiburi da na, tomo yo.
"Long time no see, old friend."
The words were smooth… but they promised a reckoning.
Blackwood Estate – A Few Miles Away
Cady grinned like a lunatic as she flipped onto one of the Yakuza men, locking her legs around his neck and driving him hard into the floor. She rolled, snatched up the gun he'd kicked away, and fired before he could even blink.
"Die, motherfucker."
Across the hall, Mia let out a sharp, unhinged laugh. "Just what I've been waiting for." She blurred forward, a streak of motion, her dagger slicing cleanly across her opponent's throat. Blood sprayed over her hands, her blades, her face.
The Yakuza froze for a heartbeat—long enough for reality to sink in. These "maids" weren't maids at all.
They were killers.
Cady's wild grin widened. She moved like chaos itself, her every strike calculated, her every shot perfect. Beside her, Mia danced through the carnage, her laughter echoing like something out of a nightmare.
"Mia's right," Cady snarled, kicking another man in the ribs so hard he crumpled. "This is exactly what I've been waiting for."
Then Katherine appeared—calm, collected, and lethal. She disarmed her target in a single smooth motion, then slammed him against the wall so hard the plaster cracked.
"Focus, ladies," Melody's sharp voice rang out over the chaos. "They're still organized. Break them, and they're finished."
Joy was a storm of fists and boots, tearing through anyone dumb enough to get close.
"Who are they?" one Yakuza whispered in panic.
"Enemies," another spat, firing wildly—missing every shot as the women closed in.
The battle became a blur of gunfire, screams, and steel striking flesh. Blood pooled on the polished floors, but the maids pressed forward—merciless, unstoppable.
Outside, the Caldwells watched the mansion from the safety of their car.
"Is it just me," Jimmy asked slowly, "or does it look like something's… wrong?"
Before his mother could answer, the estate's double doors burst open. A man staggered out—then, a gunshot.
He dropped instantly, rolling down the steps as the doors slammed shut again. Whoever fired remained unseen.
Jimmy and Monica's mouths fell open in shock.
"We have to leave!" Jimmy shouted, bolting for the driver's seat. His hands shook as he turned the key in the ignition—it was clear none of the men inside were coming out again. Well… unless it was in a body bag.
Monica moved to join him, then froze. "Where's Mark?"
Meanwhile, in the shadowed corner of the estate, Mark and Zarina had also witnessed what just happened. And yes, Mark had invited her along without his mother or brother knowing.
"We have to get out of here," Mark said, his face a shade paler than usual.
Zarina nodded, worry flickering across her face. "What happened?"
Mark shook his head. "I don't know."
She took a slow breath, stepped closer, and hugged him. He hugged her back—and in that moment, she slipped something into his back pocket without him noticing. Pulling away, she gave him a faint smile.
"Bye… and thank you for this day. I'll never forget it," she said softly.
Mark, blushing now, smiled. "You're welcome. I won't forget it either."
"I'm sure you won't." She flashed him a grin and stepped back, letting him rush toward the parked car.
Once he was gone, Zarina melted into the bushes. She waited two long minutes, watching them drive off, before emerging and heading for the front door.
She stepped over the dead body sprawled on the stairs, pushed the door open…
—nd was immediately tackled by a bloody Cady. The impact pressed her against the wall, and before she could speak, Cady's mouth was on hers. The kiss was messy, wild—Cady's blood smearing across Zarina's cheek.
Zarina pulled back, smiling with a dark glint in her eye. "You look so sexy."
Cady grinned, and they crashed back together, making out in the middle of the carnage.