The first thing Nico saw was the ceiling.
Then his wives came into focus. All three of them hovered over him, tugging at his shirt like they were checking for a pulse. The moment his eyes opened, their faces twisted into something closer to disbelief than relief.
"You’re alive." Kira and Nira chorused, then Kira kept going. "How... but you were shot."
"That’s strange, I thought you’d be happier to see me."
Nico said it flatly, pushing himself up off the wooden floor. He glanced past them at the dead assassin still sprawled a few feet away.
The crowbar sat lodged in the man’s chest, blood still leaking around it in a slow, dark pool. The gun had skidded across the floor and now rested near Nico’s foot.
He picked it up, snapped it apart piece by piece, and got to his feet just as Lucas burst through the door, gun raised at whatever might still be a threat.
"Boss, are you okay?"
"Let’s worry less about me, shall we?" Nico brushed the dust off his shirt. "Where’s the other bastard?"
"Outside, struggling with the ropes I tied him up with." Lucas held his gaze steady. "What should we do about them?"
"Exactly what we planned."
Nico left it there. He trusted Lucas to fill in the rest without further explanation. Then he turned to face his wives, taking in their tangle of confusion before he spoke.
"Pack your things. The little you can. We’re leaving now."
"Wait, what?" Kira was the first to push back. "It’s the freaking middle of the night, and incase you didn’t notice earlier, we just got here."
"Five minutes."
He said it like a warning, then turned and walked off, letting their muttering fade behind him as he headed back to his room.
He changed fast. A silk white shirt, black trousers, a silver watch, black loafers. Simple, clean, nothing wasted.
By the time he finished, it was five past midnight. He knew how slow women could be when it came to packing, so he gave them one extra minute out of pure mercy.
His mind drifted back to what had happened only minutes earlier. The system. The awakening message. A bullet that was, as far as he could tell, still buried somewhere in his chest.
He didn’t understand any of it. But he believed it anyway.
He’d died back there. There was no arguing that part. And now he was standing upright again, breathing, trying to force some kind of order onto thoughts that refused to sit still.
Speaking of time, his had run out. He checked the watch, confirmed it, and stepped out of the room.
The second assassin was still in the living room, wrists bound in thick rope, mouth sealed with tape. He mumbled something unintelligible, but the shape of it was easy enough to guess. A plea. Begging for his life without words.
Nico ignored him for the moment and made a slow circuit of the house, checking every window, every lock. Satisfied, he stepped outside, his wives trailing close behind.
They’d barely settled on the porch when a second Mercedes rolled up and stopped in front of them.
Lucas was behind the wheel.
"Get in." Nico said. "I’ll be right behind you."
Nira wasn’t ready to let it go that easily. "Do you mind telling us where we’re going—"
"There’s no time. Get in. And I’ll explain later."
That seemed to be enough, or at least enough for now. The three of them climbed into the car without further complaint, faces still tight with irritation. Nico gave Lucas one last nod before the car pulled away.
He watched until the taillights disappeared down the road, then turned and walked back into the bungalow.
He crossed straight to the assassin and tore the tape off his mouth in one motion.
"Who sent you?"
"Please, spare my life. I was only asked to assist in the plan. I had no idea who we were asked to cross—"
"I’ll repeat myself once more." Nico’s eyes dropped, cold and level. "Who... sent... you?"
"It was...I...I can’t give that information." The man’s voice cracked with fear. "I’m sorry, but I can’t."
"Hm. Have it your way then."
Nico stood and walked toward the kitchen. He twisted the gas valve open, and the hiss filled the silence, slowly bleeding out into the rest of the house.
He made it back to the living room in time, grabbed a candle off the dining table, lit it, and set it down beside the assassin, just out of reach of his bound hands.
"No no. You can’t do this."
"I just did." Nico’s smile was thin, without warmth. "You know, I was going to try and get some information out of you first. But given your extent of devotion or whatever deal you made with your hirer, getting you to say anything apparently won’t be happening."
The man said nothing more. Whatever loyalty or fear kept his mouth shut, it held.
"I hope you enjoy your stay in hell. Heard there’s some really... warm places over there."
"Wait, please. You can’t leave me here—"
Nico shut the door behind him, walked to his car, and turned the key. The engine caught on the first try. He pulled away from the bungalow without looking back.
He had already beat the distance far enough when the entire building came up in wild flames.
BOOM!