The Price of fire
737 Words
The explosion threw Kian across the study.
His shoulder slammed into a marble pillar.
For a second, everything disappeared beneath a deafening ring.
Then—
Screams.
Glass shattered somewhere upstairs.
The smell of burning wood flooded the mansion.
The emergency lights flickered to life, bathing the corridor in crimson.
Not power.
Battery backup.
Someone had cut the electricity.
Someone had planned this.
Kian staggered to his feet.
"Rajiv!"
The old man lay trapped beneath a collapsed bookshelf.
Blood trickled from his forehead.
"I'm alive," Rajiv groaned. "Stop looking at me and find your sister."
Maya.
Kian's pulse spiked.
She had returned home an hour earlier.
He sprinted into the hallway.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
Servants ran in every direction.
One of the chandeliers crashed onto the marble floor, sending burning crystals skidding like sparks.
"Where's Maya?" he shouted.
No one answered.
A frightened maid grabbed his arm.
"Sir... there are men inside."
"What men?"
"They're not stealing anything."
She was trembling so violently she could barely speak.
"They're... looking for someone."
Kian's expression hardened.
Me.
The mansion's security chief stumbled toward him, clutching his stomach.
Blood seeped between his fingers.
"Third floor..." he gasped.
"They came from the east balcony."
"How many?"
"I saw..."
He coughed violently.
"...only four."
Only four.
Four men had walked into one of the most heavily guarded estates in the city.
Either they were suicidal...
...or they already knew they would leave alive.
Kian took the pistol from the guard's holster.
He checked the magazine.
Seven rounds.
Not enough.
It would have to do.
The corridor leading to Maya's room was eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
Smoke drifted through the open windows.
A single shoe lay abandoned in the hallway.
Maya's.
Kian's heartbeat quickened.
He pushed open her bedroom door.
Empty.
The balcony doors swayed in the wind.
Beyond them...
A rope hung over the edge.
Someone had taken her.
No.
Kian stepped closer.
The rope wasn't moving.
No fresh footprints.
His eyes narrowed.
A trick.
He turned—
A knife sliced through the air where his throat had been.
The attacker missed by inches.
Kian caught the man's wrist.
Twisted.
CRACK.
The knife clattered across the floor.
The masked intruder didn't scream.
He reached for another blade.
Professional.
Kian drove his elbow into the man's jaw.
The assassin stumbled backward.
A second shadow emerged from behind the curtains.
Gun.
Suppressor.
Two muffled shots.
Thud.
Thud.
Kian dove behind the bed as feathers exploded into the air.
The mattress ripped apart.
The gunman advanced calmly.
No panic.
No wasted movement.
They hadn't come to kill everyone.
They had come...
...to kill him.
Kian counted silently.
One.
Two.
Three.
The gunman paused to reload.
Now.
Kian lunged.
He grabbed the broken bed frame and slammed it into the shooter's chest.
The man crashed into the wall.
The pistol slid across the floor.
Before Kian could reach it—
The first assassin tackled him from behind.
They rolled across the room.
Punch.
Elbow.
Headbutt.
Blood sprayed onto the white carpet.
The assassin suddenly laughed.
Actually laughed.
"What?"
The masked man whispered into Kian's ear.
"You fight exactly like your father."
Kian froze.
For half a heartbeat.
That was all the opening the assassin needed.
A blade plunged toward Kian's chest.
He caught it with both hands.
Steel stopped less than an inch from his heart.
Every muscle burned.
The assassin leaned harder.
"You know nothing," he whispered.
"Nothing about the man you worship."
Kian roared and drove his knee into the assassin's ribs.
The man staggered back.
Kian seized the fallen pistol.
One shot.
The first assassin collapsed.
A second shot.
The gunman dropped before reaching the doorway.
Silence.
Only the crackle of fire remained.
Kian ripped the mask from the dead assassin.
He didn't recognize the face.
But something else caught his attention.
Burned into the man's neck...
A black emblem.
A wolf with three eyes.
The same symbol was tattooed beneath the second assassin's collar.
Not hired killers.
An organization.
A disciplined one.
Then Kian noticed a folded piece of paper tucked inside the dead man's jacket.
He unfolded it.
There was only one sentence.
Phase One Complete.
His blood ran cold.
Phase One?
He looked around the burning room.
His father was in intensive care.
His mansion was under attack.
Professional killers had infiltrated his home.
And according to whoever planned this...
This wasn't the attack.
It was only...
The beginning.
- Writer
