The room is dark, save for the flicker of a broken neon sign bleeding blue through the window blinds.
Caelan's breath hitched.
His eyes snapped open—fingers clenched tight around the grip of his pistol beneath the pillow. Sweat clung to his back, though the air was freezing.
Another dream.
No. Not a dream. A memory, maybe.
But it never made sense.
The boy—black hair, eyes like velvet smoke—reaching out from the edge of a collapsing roof. Rain hammering down. Blood on both their hands.
"Don't leave me."
The voice echoed in his skull, too familiar. Too gentle. He hated it. He hated that it sounds so familiar. The dream is chasing him like a restless nightmare.
He sat up, breathing hard, the pressure in his chest choking him. A ghost pain bloomed in his left hand, the one that used to be his trigger hand, back when his training was fresh and mechanical.
It ached every time he dreamed of him.
Lucien.
He grabbed the whiskey bottle on the table—half-full. Poured a mouthful. Let it burn. But it didn't kill the feeling.
He reached into his coat.
Inside the lining pocket, there was a coin. A strange one. Old, silver, worn smooth on one side. He didn't know why he kept it. Found it during a recon sweep a month ago, at the edge of a burned grove.
It had a rune scratched in the middle.
He rubbed his thumb over it. The metal pulsed, faintly warm.
That terrified him more than anything.
His handler at the Syndicate always told him:
"You are a weapon. You have no history. Only a target."
Then why did this coin feel heavier than his gun?
Why did his hands tremble when he saw Lucien's face? Why. Just why?
Why did he hesitate before giving him the poison? He.. Hated it. Hehated the way Lucien would look at him with that smug Smirk, waiting for caelen to make a move.
""Go on Sweetheart, I'm not stopping you. Little sniper.."" He Hated that he can't get these words out of his head.
Cealen don't like the way 'Sweetheart' sounds allmost iconic and Too much soft coming from someone like Him. Lucien. A goddamn mafia boss.
Just why? Why did He had to make everything worse and easy at same time which makes Caelen Uncomfortable?
He slammed the coin onto the table, hard, eyes burning.
"Stop it," he muttered. "Get out of my head."
But it wasn't Lucien's voice that haunted him.
It was his own voice, from that dream.
And he was crying.
"Don't leave me."
Ugh.. he hated that voice! He hated everything about himself. Why does he even exist!? That's the question. A stupid one. What a foolish man.