Campus - Morning
The sun poured over the dorm's wide windows, catching flecks of dust in the golden beam that stretched across the tiled floor. The smell of burnt toast lingered in the air.
Ash frowned at the smoking toaster. "Why the hell did I think I could cook without Nox around?"
Leo didn't answer. He sat on the couch, barefoot, wearing a loose tank top and soft black joggers, staring at the blank TV screen. His oatmeal sat untouched.
Ash plopped beside him, biting into a mangled slice of bread. "We could go to the beach today. I wanna sketch ocean waves. You in?"
Leo blinked. A pause. Then a faint smile. "Yeah. Why not."
Ash grinned. "You're getting good at pretending you're not rich and reclusive, Leo. Proud of you."
Leo laughed softly. It didn't reach his eyes. "Guess I'm making progress."
He turned off his phone when it buzzed. The third time this week.
Madrid - Ortega's Estate, Surveillance Van - 06:48 AM
"Target departing in fifteen," a voice crackled through Nox's earpiece.
He leaned over the digital maps laid across the panel. A sea of motion sensors, red zones, heat signatures. Ortega's routine was forming—morning meetings at an underground parlor, detours to an art gallery owned by his mistress, always with two guards.
Nox scratched out a route on a thin sheet of plastic and overlaid it on the screen.
"Visual on Subject B?"
"Confirmed. Handler 'Maite Silva'. No official record since 2017. Currently under Ortega's payroll."
Nox's jaw tensed slightly. This wasn't just a job anymore. Layers were peeling.
Campus - Midday, Beachside Sketches
Ash sprawled across a towel, sketchpad in his lap, tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.
"Do you think if I draw every wave, I'll eventually master water texture?"
Leo leaned back in the sand, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. "You'll run out of graphite first."
Ash snorted. "Whatever. These might become my final sculpture ideas. Big waves—cast in glass or something." He glanced sideways. "What about you? You haven't touched your pad in days."
Leo looked at the ocean. Then shrugged. "Still thinking."
Ash didn't push. Just passed him a cold can of soda. "Whatever it is, you'll get there. Just... don't vanish like our ghost roommate."
Leo took the can. Didn't speak.
Madrid - Nightfall, Perimeter Wall
Nox crouched beneath the scent of oleander and hot stone, watching the shifting silhouettes within Ortega's estate.
He wore black tactical pants, soft-soled boots, and a matte utility vest. The knife at his thigh was coated in black resin, soundless against his movements.
Inside, Ortega laughed with his guards. Toasted cigars. Laughed too loudly. Too long.
"Every man hides behind luxury when he's scared," Nox muttered.
He uploaded a worm into Ortega's local network through a handheld device. It would silently loop the camera feed every night at 02:10 AM for exactly 74 seconds.
Enough to slip through.
Campus - Evening
The rooftop wasn't the same.
Ash sat cross-legged, bag of chips between them. "Remember when Nox used to come up here after midnight? Just sit there like a gargoyle, smoking and watching the moon?"
Leo gave a quiet laugh. "Yeah. Like a haunted weather vane."
"Think he's okay?"
Leo didn't answer. Just looked at the stars.
Madrid - Hotel Room
Nox disassembled and cleaned the scope of his sniper rifle. Piece by piece. Meditative.
A burner phone vibrated.
Message from: Unknown — "The Ghost has moved. New location, coordinates attached. Secondary target Silva confirmed as escort."
Nox memorized the numbers. Deleted the message.
He stood, rolled his shoulders, and moved to the full-body mirror in the dim hotel room.
Three breaths in. One breath out.
His reflection stared back—masked, expressionless, violet eyes hard as cut glass.
Tick tock.
Campus - Dorm Room, Midnight
Leo sat in darkness. Ash was passed out on the couch, half-wrapped in a blanket, soft snores escaping.
Leo finally picked up his phone. 17 missed calls. Mostly from Father.
He hit delete.
The screen dimmed. He leaned back, eyes closing.
Let me pretend, he thought. Just a little longer.
No shadows. No blood.
Just the ocean, cold soda, and the boy who made him laugh.
Madrid - Alley Behind a Jazz Bar, 03:12 AM
Maite Silva's neck snapped in a swift, practiced twist.
No noise. No witnesses.
Nox dragged her body into the dumpster, wiped the blood with a cloth, and walked away into the early Madrid fog.
One down. Two to go.
He vanished before sunrise, nothing but silence left behind.
End of Chapter 35