Page 58 of Celestial Combat

But still, something told me he was there. A dark figure, watching me from behind the tinted pane, his presence like a weight pressing against my skin.

A sudden, sharp current ran through me.

A boost of confidence, like gasoline catching fire.

The bell rang.

I smirked.

This was my territory.

The rooftop was slick with rain, the mist clinging to the edges of the old Chinatown building like a living thing.

Below, the streets glowed with neon, red and blue reflections smearing across the wet pavement like fresh ink. The hum of the city pulsed beneath me – muffled voices, the occasional honk of a distant cab, the distant trill of a siren cutting through the night.

But up here, it was quiet.

The perfect place to kill a man.

I exhaled, steadying my grip on the sniper rifle, my finger resting lightly against the trigger. Through the scope, my target came into focus – an older man, graying at the temples, his suit pristine despite the grime of the alleyway he was walking through.

One of them.

The kind of man who had sent Hiroshi that night. The kind of man who profited from pain, from stolen bodies and lost lives.

My stomach coiled, but my hands were steady.

One shot.

One moment.

And I would finally take something back.

The weight of my decision settled in my bones, pressed into my lungs.

But then, I felt it.

Like a shadow stretching long behind me, the shift in the air undeniable.

“I know what you’re doing,” I murmured.

Silence.

Then, a voice, deep and smooth, like dark velvet.

“Then walk away.”

I kept my eyes trained on my target, my pulse steady. Rain dripped down the bridge of my nose, clung to my lashes, but I didn’t blink.

Behind me, Zane stepped closer, the heat of his body cutting through the cold, his breath warm against the nape of my neck.

“Do you want him dead,” He murmured, dark and knowing. “Or are you just trying to prove something?”

I swallowed hard, my throat tight.

I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Because the truth was – I wasn’t sure.

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