The town was eerily silent. The usual bustle of the streets, the sounds of people laughing in taverns and shouting orders in restaurants, was gone. Everyone had retreated to their homes and rooms, resting for the day ahead. It was late at night, and the air felt still, almost suffocating.
Zedd moved through the streets with purpose. He knew he was being followed—could feel the presence of the shadow agent trailing him. This motherfucker would be dead by the end of the night. Zedd had no intention of letting him walk away. Not with the information he carried. Zedd didn't need a long chase or any drawn-out confrontation; he wanted answers, and then he wanted to kill him slowly.
His eyes scanned the surroundings, looking for a good place to make this agent's death memorable. A place to extract every bit of information he had. Then, when the agent was of no more use, Zedd would end him without hesitation. He spotted an alleyway, a perfect dead end. No one would be coming by, and the agent would have nowhere to run.
Zedd grinned. "Perfect," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the shadow agent.
Zedd had been trained as an assassin—trained to fight, to kill, to torture and interrogate. Shadow agents, on the other hand, were trained to track, observe, and gather intelligence. They weren't built for physical combat. This would be easy. Too easy.
Zedd entered the alleyway, a small grin forming on his face as he walked deeper into the shadows. The agent hesitated at the entrance, unsure whether to follow or not. It didn't matter. Zedd had already planned his moves.
"Just come out, coward," Zedd called loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. "I know you're following me."
Zedd turned to face the agent, knowing the man would hesitate. The agent stepped into the alley, trying to appear confident, but his eyes were wide with fear. Zedd could smell it—the scent of dread. The agent was scared.
Before the agent could even process what was happening, Zedd moved. Faster than the agent could react, Zedd disappeared into thin air. The agent's eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of Zedd, but he was too late. Zedd reappeared behind him, his hand closing around the agent's throat in a vice-like grip.
The agent gasped, but Zedd didn't give him a chance to scream. With one swift motion, Zedd slammed the agent's face into the wall with such force that the man's teeth shattered like glass, and his nose was crushed under the pressure. Blood splattered against the alley wall, dripping down to pool at the agent's feet. The agent choked, his muffled screams lost in the blood pooling in his mouth.
Zedd's voice was cold and deadly. "Give me what I want to know, and I might let you live."
Zedd was lying, of course. There was no way in hell the agent was going to leave here alive. If he went back and reported everything, Zedd, Elara, and Reina would all be in danger.
Zedd leaned in, his grip tightening around the agent's throat. "I'll ask you again," he said slowly, "Tell me everything."
The agent was struggling, his face pale, blood seeping from the cracks in his mouth, but he didn't speak. Zedd gritted his teeth. He had no time for this. He had no intention of letting this motherfucker walk away.
Zedd twisted his hand, applying pressure to the agent's shoulder. He forced the man's arm out of place with a sickening crack, the joint dislocating under Zedd's strength. The agent let out a strangled scream, but Zedd covered his mouth with his free hand, silencing him. The agent's arm hung limply, useless by his side.
"Tell me what I want to know, or I'll make it worse," Zedd growled.
The agent finally spoke, his voice shaky and filled with pain. "I'm a Shadow Agent... I was dispatched with a squad to track you down, Zedd... this morning when you saved those girls—the redhead and the one with the black hair... I saw you and cross-referenced you with the sketches. The description matched."
Zedd listened carefully, his patience wearing thin. "Tell me something useful," he snapped. "How many other agents are in this town?"
"I... I'm the only one here," the agent managed, his voice weak. "I was planning to report back after..."
Zedd cut him off, a dark laugh escaping his lips. "After killing me and taking my head back to the academy to become a hero, climb the ranks, right? You're such an idiot."
Zedd had known the agent's plan from the start. He wasn't fooling anyone. The shadow agents were pathetic—made to track, not fight. This one had hoped to make a name for himself by killing Zedd and bringing back his head.
"Your training wasn't enough to save you," Zedd said, shaking his head. "You shadow agents aren't made for combat." He almost felt sorry for the man, but there was no room for sympathy in Zedd's world.
The agent's voice cracked as he spoke again. "I've told you everything... please, let me go. I have a wife. She's pregnant. Please..."
Zedd's eyes narrowed. He didn't give a damn about this man's family. He didn't care who the agent was outside of the mission. He was just another pawn, and pawns didn't matter. Zedd's grip tightened, and he didn't even flinch when he heard the bones in the agent's neck snap. The man's head hung at an unnatural angle, detached from the body, his lifeless eyes staring out in shock.
Zedd let the agent's body fall to the ground. The lifeless corpse hit the ground with a sickening thud. He'd gotten all the answers he needed, and now the agent's usefulness had expired.
Zedd crouched down, rifling through the agent's body with practiced ease. He found a few gold coins, thirty silver coins, a small notebook with encrypted notes, a pocket knife, a pair of kunai, a vial of poison neutralizer, and a collection of medical herbs. It wasn't much, but it would be useful.
He took everything, slinging the body over his shoulder. It was time to dispose of the body—no one could find it, and no one could ever trace it back to him. The streets were still empty. No one was around, which was just as well. Zedd didn't need anyone's attention tonight.
He walked out of the alley, heading toward the outskirts of the town. He passed through the quiet streets, the darkness of the wilderness surrounding him. Zedd found a large tree and began digging, burying the agent's body beneath the earth. It was quick work—Zedd was no stranger to covering his tracks.
The bloodstains on his gloves were a constant reminder of the violence he'd just unleashed, but Zedd didn't care. He tossed the bloody glove into the grave and filled it in, covering the body completely.
He stood over the grave for a moment, wiping his hands on his cloak. His mind was already moving to the next task. He needed a new glove. He would rest once he got back to the tavern.
Zedd turned and walked back to the town, entering the empty streets once more. The tavern wasn't far. He headed up to his room, not bothering to remove his cloak. He slumped into bed, exhausted but satisfied. He closed his eyes, letting sleep take him, knowing that tomorrow would bring more chaos. And that was exactly how he liked it.