Chapter 7

The morning came with a pale, cold light that bathed the ruins of the outskirts. The silence was deafening, broken only by the occasional wails of the survivors. For Kaden, the world had lost all sound. He moved like a phantom through the devastation, his body numb, his thoughts clouded by the weight of what needed to be done. 

He stood over Lira's remains, staring at her unrecognizable form. The golden strands of her hair caught the light, a haunting reminder of who she once was. His hands trembled as he crouched beside her, his fingers brushing against the blood-soaked earth. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so… sorry." 

The words felt hollow, meaningless. What good was an apology to someone who would never hear it? 

---

Kaden found a rusted shovel amidst the rubble. The handle splintered beneath his grip, but he didn't care. He began digging, each motion slow and deliberate. The soil was damp and heavy, clinging to the blade as he worked. 

With every shovelful of earth, memories surged through him—Lira's laughter, her wide, innocent eyes, the way she had always believed in him even when he didn't believe in himself. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen." 

Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision, but he didn't stop. The hole grew deeper, a grim sanctuary for the only person who had ever mattered to him. When it was finally done, he lowered her broken body into the grave, wrapping her in the remnants of a tattered blanket he found nearby. 

He knelt beside her, his fingers tracing the edge of the blanket as though it could somehow bring her comfort. 

"I swear," he murmured, his voice low and venomous, "I'll make them pay." 

---

The burial was quiet, marked only by the sound of soil falling onto the blanket. With each shovelful, Kaden's rage grew, burning hotter and fiercer. 

When he finally stood, his hands raw and blistered, he turned and walked back to the remnants of their home—or at least where it had once been. All traces of their tent had been destroyed, reduced to ash and rubble. He stood amid the wreckage, his breathing shallow as memories flashed before his eyes. 

He could almost hear Lira's laughter, the way she teased him about his cooking. He could see her bright eyes lighting up when he brought home scraps of food, her endless optimism despite their circumstances. 

But those memories were tainted now, replaced by the horror of her broken body, her life stolen by forces far beyond their control. Pain coursed through him, an unbearable weight that made his chest tighten. 

Then came the rage—a fiery storm that burned through his veins. 

"I'll let him feel this," Kaden spat through clenched teeth. "The governor will know what it's like to lose someone." 

Killing the governor wouldn't suffice. That would be too quick, too merciful. No, Kaden would strike where it hurt the most—he would make the governor lose someone dear to him. 

---

### A Plan Forged in Fury 

The governor's name was synonymous with corruption and indifference. His brother, Darek, was his closest ally—a man known for flaunting his wealth while the outskirts starved. Kaden had heard rumors of Darek's frequent visits to the outskirts, where he indulged in illicit activities, believing himself untouchable. 

Kaden's lips curled into a grim smile. "No one is untouchable." 

---

Under the cover of darkness, Kaden moved through the ruined streets. The outskirts had taught him how to survive, how to remain unseen, and how to strike without hesitation. 

He found Darek at one of his usual haunts—a decaying mansion at the edge of the ruined district. The guards stationed outside were inattentive, more engrossed in their card games than their duty. 

Kaden slipped past them with ease, his steps silent, his presence a mere shadow among shadows. 

Inside, he found Darek in a dimly lit room, reclining on a velvet couch. A half-empty bottle of wine sat on the table beside him, its pungent scent mingling with the stale air. Darek was heavily drunk, his movements sluggish as he reached for another glass. 

"You don't belong here, boy," Darek sneered when he noticed Kaden. His eyes flicked to the chain tattoo on Kaden's head, a mocking smile twisting his lips. 

Kaden didn't respond. He stepped closer, his hand tightening around the knife he had stolen. Weapons were easy to come by in the outskirts—a place where crime thrived and survival was a daily battle. 

Darek attempted to summon his ability, but his drunken state left him powerless. His hands glowed faintly for a moment before the light fizzled out. 

"Do you know what it's like to lose everything?" Kaden's voice was cold, devoid of emotion. 

Darek frowned, his bleary eyes narrowing. "What are you—" 

The blade plunged into his chest before he could finish the sentence. 

---

Kaden stood over Darek's lifeless body, watching as blood pooled beneath him. His hands, slick with crimson, trembled slightly. 

He had killed a human. 

Though he had done many terrible things to survive, taking a life had never been one of them. He had always thought that revenge would dull the pain, that it would fill the gaping hole in his heart. 

Yet here he stood, his heart heavy with the weight of his actions. He had thought this act of vengeance would ease the pain of Lira's death, but the ache in his chest was as raw and agonizing as before. 

A sudden voice broke through his haze, soft and innocent. 

"Daddy?" 

Kaden's heart stopped. He turned sharply toward the doorway, spotting a small boy standing there. Before the child's eyes could wander to the gruesome scene, Kaden moved. 

In a flash, he was behind the boy, his movements swift and precise. With a gentle strike to the back of the neck, he knocked the child unconscious. The boy crumpled to the floor, unharmed but blissfully unaware of the horror that had taken place. 

Kaden knelt beside him, his eyes filled with a rare softness as he whispered, "You don't deserve to see such a cruel scene." 

He rose quickly, for a moment, Kaden hesitated, staring at the child's peaceful face. Memories of Lira's innocence surfaced, twisting the knife of guilt deeper into his heart. 

"This isn't your fault," he whispered, more to himself than the boy. 

When Kaden left the mansion, his hands were still stained with blood, but his resolve had only hardened. The boy would wake to a broken world, but he wouldn't carry the image of his father's death. 

As Kaden disappeared into the shadows, his thoughts burned with one clear, unrelenting desire: "The governor will know what it feels like to lose someone." Or so he thought.