Agent Olivia Carter had seen a lot in her years with the Revenant Division—ritual killings, possessed corpses, even an exorcism gone wrong in a military bunker. But she had never seen anything like Ethan Cross.
One minute, he was just another suspect in a back-alley murder. The next, he was taking down something that shouldn't exist—with nothing but a short, rune-covered dagger and an attitude like he'd been doing this for years.
She holstered her gun, stepping toward him. "Talk."
Ethan wiped his blade clean on his jacket. "Not here."
The other agent, Ramirez, was still frozen in place, staring at the pile of ash that used to be a body. "That thing—what the hell was that?"
Ethan tucked the dagger away and sighed. "A revenant. Half-dead, half-wrong, and very pissed off. If you've got any silver bullets left, you can toss them—they wouldn't have done a thing."
Carter narrowed her eyes. He knows too much.
"Step away from the body," she ordered.
Ethan tilted his head, amused. "Which part? The pile of dust or the poor bastard who left it behind?"
Carter gritted her teeth. "You're coming with us."
Ethan took a slow step forward. "No. I'm not."
Before Carter could react, he moved. Not running—vanishing.
A shadow flicker, a twist in the air, and he was gone.
Ramirez swore. "How the hell—?"
Carter didn't answer. She turned, scanning the alley, her mind racing. No footprints. No cover. No way in hell a normal man just disappeared like that.
He's not normal.
Her radio crackled. "Carter, report."
She exhaled. How do you even explain this?
"Suspect fled the scene."
A pause. Then: "Understood. Return to HQ immediately."
She stared at the alley one last time. Ethan Cross. Who the hell are you?
⋆ ⋆ ⋆
Ethan leaned against a rooftop ledge three blocks away, watching them leave. They weren't ready for this.
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his dagger at his hip. It's starting.
The runes on the corpse's chest weren't just random markings. They were coordinates. And he knew exactly where they led.
Somewhere in the city, something worse was waking up.
And this time, he might not be fast enough.
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