Empty streets and silence painted the night an eerie black. Only the sound of pittering footsteps smacking against the concrete echoed with a dull thud. One man—against the world. Aeron ran with desperation on his face, a pale contrast to his once bright appearance.

"You can't run forever, rat!" A man's voice echoed from behind Aeron, breaking the silence from its serene calm.

Aeron ignored his voice and kept running. He did not know where he was going, but he had to run. He could not afford to die here. He weaved through the city's alleys and confining streets, hastily pushing his body to enlarge the gap between him and his pursuers. But he made a mistake— the alley he turned into— was a dead end.

The men in pursuit skidded into the alley hot on his tail with grins plastered with malicious intent and hostility. "Lookie here, boys, we cornered ourselves a rat."

"Dammit," Aeron muttered before turning to the men. "Guys, you don't want to do this. Please— walk away." Aeron waved his hands raised in defeat.

"Oh? Is that a threat?" The leading man laughed. "Don't worry, rat. We will walk away— with you in tow."

"Get him!" He waved, unleashing his dogs upon Aeron.

They pincered him at a moment's notice, slamming into his body with wooden bats wrapped in barbed wire. Blood covered his body from small slits that appeared with every thwack.

"Please— you can't do this. YOU CAN'T!" Aeron roared unwillingly; he thrashed against the men in a meager attempt to defend himself, but he was outnumbered and outclassed. He stood no chance. Darkness consumed his vision, and he slumped to the ground unconscious.

"Let's take him back; we'll see what the boss says."

Aeron's body slammed against a concrete floor. His consciousness came in slowly as his eyes opened. The warehouse was spacious and hollow, dimly illuminated by a line of lights that loomed high overhead. He turned his head from left to right, taking in the space. Men lined up in perfect lines on both sides of him, the only difference being in front of him where two men stood beside one other man— the boss. The man sat atop a crate arrogantly with his linen shirt half unbuttoned and his legs spread.

"So, you're the little rat, Trefor?" The man asked, his hoarse voice stirring a chill in Aeron's heart. "Tell me, why did you do it?"

Aeron kneeled in silence— he could not justify himself.

"Nothing to say, huh?" The man chuckled. He rapped his fingers against his large thigh in silent contemplation. "Well, we have a problem now, Trefor. Even if I have the heart to forgive you, look at my boys here." He pointed to the men who lined the warehouse with their presence. "Does it look like they can forgive you?"

They all glared coldly at Aeron. Their venomous tipped fangs bared to strike if given a green light.

"You see that, Trefor?" The man shrugged innocently. "It seems our discussion comes to an end simply like that."

"Break him." He uttered as he waved to the men. "When you finish breaking him, take him home and hang him up for all to see. Send a message. None may dare play games with us."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Yes, Boss!" The men roared in response. Their steps encroached on Aeron slowly as they assailed upon him.

"No— Please, you can't do this!" Aeron begged. "You can hurt me, but you can't kill me!"

"YOU CAN'T KILL ME!" He howled in pain, "YOU'LL REGRET IT— I'M THE ONLY ONE THAT CAN CONTROL HIM."

The only response he received was a fist to his face. The men barraged him relentlessly with fists and knife wounds to his limbs. Kicks peppered him without stopping as the flaring pain stifled all rationality within him. Aeron could not speak; it was not the pain of his body that upset him, however— but the fact that he betrayed his brother.

Instead of Aeron's life flashing before his eyes, it was one thought alone. 'I'm sorry, Rhys... It looks like you won't get to relax.' Tears rolled down his face— he was unwilling, but he was powerless in this situation to fight it. Death blanketed him with its cold finality as his dull eyes stared at the dimly lit ceiling lights. His lips curled up imperceptibly— one final smile of satisfaction.

The men dragged his body away and tossed it into a sturdy sack, which they threw into the back of their car. They drove to Aeron's home and set up a thick and sturdy rope, which they hung his corpse off of. Before leaving, they spray painted on the wall an eyeball with a coiling serpent that looped around it. It was a message for the world— 'The Ouroboros Eye is all-seeing.'

It didn't take long for someone to discover Aeron's body; after all, the men made plenty of noise. They did not care for being discreet— for they believed they ran this city. The police came with their sirens blaring, a display of power that did not go unnoticed by most of the common people who stood with watchful gazes in the crowd.

Phones recorded the whole process— the sight of Aeron's body dangling limp and lifeless and the Ouroboros Eye. This was their intent all along; they wanted the people to know.

Within a mental rehabilitation facility, Rhys sat in a padded room of pristine white. His hands were restrained tightly behind his back in thick restraints— a safety precaution for everyone involved.

A woman walked up to his room surrounded by half a dozen hulking men who looked more like security than orderlies. She opened a small, latched window and looked into the room.

"Patient Trefor, I have some unfortunate news..." She spoke softly and carefully. "Your brother has unfortunately passed away."

Silence— dreadful and eerie. Finally, he spoke. "What?"

His husky voice drilled into their ears with cold vigor, "What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, Rhys. Your brother got caught up with criminals and got killed. I know it's difficult—"

"Hey, I can't hear you. Can you come closer? I don't know what you're saying." Rhys replied with a flat-toned voice, neither happy nor sad.

The woman bit her lip softly before unlocking the door. "Let's go in." She whispered to the orderlies.

...

Rhys walked out of the cell with blood dripping down his maw. The once pristine white walls became splattered with a bright crimson that drew wings on Rhys' back with every step he took. He popped in his dislocated shoulder as he craned his neck. His cold eyes blinked with a seething wrath. He took off the restraint jacket, revealing a bare torso peppered with hundreds of wounds. Rhys took his hand to his ear, slamming it against his head. "What's with my hearing?" He mumbled under his breath. "I seem to be hearing things that make no damn sense."

Behind him, the orderlies' limbs were bent and broken in horrifying ways; they gurgled blood with dazed eyes. The woman shivered in a corner in a deluge of blood that layered across her dress and overcoat. "Monster..." She whispered as her nails dug into her arms.