James’s arms trembled under Jennifer’s weight as he carried her, each step hammering the point home: they had no plan. The roads leading into the heart of the city were eerily quiet, their usual hum of activity replaced by the soft crunch of James’s boots and Jennifer’s labored breaths.

“You’re not taking me to the hub?” she rasped, her voice strained but defiant.

“I already told you why,” he shot back, barely glancing down. His face was set in stone, jaw tight and eyes scanning for threats.

“I was _listening_, James,” Jennifer groaned, trying to shift her weight to ease the sharp ache in her back. “But what other choice do we have?”

He let out a frustrated huff, adjusting his grip as he pushed forward. “I _don’t_ know. But I know the hub isn’t it. Not this time.”

“Not this time? What the hell does that even mean?” she demanded, her tone sharper despite the pain. “I’d rather take a damn chance there than just—just _what_, hope we get lucky?”

“Oh god!” James barked, voice loud enough to echo off the towering concrete walls lining the streets. He halted abruptly, his chest rising and falling with quick breaths. “You don’t get it. The hub won’t work. Henderson’s too smart for that.”

Jennifer’s brow furrowed. “Smart? Did you not see how we escaped from him? Whatever excuse he comes up with we can easily counter. He says he's damaged and not them? He tried to pressure you to kill me. If he tries to counter that, we counter somehow—”

“He’s _smart_,” James interrupted, the anger in his voice biting. “You think he hasn’t thought about what happens if someone turns him in? He never directly kills anyone. Not technically.”

“Not—” Jennifer started, but he cut her off.

“He ropes people in, makes them do the near killing in a gate world,” James spat, voice dripping with frustration. “They’re the ones with blood on their hands, not him. Then at the very last minute, he takes the victim's life force. Investigators have looked into him before. He makes sure there’s nothing to pin on him. Nothing that sticks.”

Jennifer stared at him, her expression frozen. “So we’re just supposed to give up? Let him keep doing this?”

“I didn’t say that,” James snapped. “I said going to the hub is a trap.”

For a moment, Jennifer didn’t respond. Her breathing was steady but shallow, her mind spinning as she tried to process his words.

The truth in them left her stomach twisting. “You’re sure?” she whispered finally.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

James looked at her, his features softening, but only slightly. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

They continued in silence until they reached the edge of a narrow street leading to James’s house. It was small, nestled among identical structures with faded walls and barred windows. He pushed open the door with his shoulder, careful not to jar Jennifer too much, and set her gently onto the couch.

“You should rest,” he said gruffly.

Jennifer winced as she lay back, her muscles burning in protest. “I don't think I have much of a choice...”

“True...” James muttered, pacing the small room. His movements were restless, like a caged animal.

Minutes turned to hours. Jennifer drifted in and out of a fitful sleep, the ache in her body a constant reminder of her overuse of hyper-movement. When she finally felt strong enough to sit up, James was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, his gaze distant.

“How many times has Henderson done this?” she asked, her voice quieter now, stripped of its earlier sharpness.

James glanced at her, a shadow passing over his face. “A lot.”

Jennifer didn’t press further. The weight of that answer settled over the room like a heavy fog. She stretched cautiously, wincing but relieved that the pain was beginning to subside. Her mind churned with possibilities, each one more desperate than the last. Finally, she broke the silence.

“Maybe we hire someone?”

James’s brow furrowed as he pushed off the wall. “Hire someone? For what?”

“To kill him,” she said flatly.

He stared at her like she’d lost her mind. “What?”

"We don’t have any leverage, no resources, no backup. What else are we supposed to do?”

“Even if—_even if_—that was an option, how are we supposed to pay for it? Take out a loan with what credit?”

“Not from a bank. I mean loansharks. People who don’t ask questions.”

His jaw dropped, and for a moment, he just stared at her in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You want to _borrow money_ from criminals to hire a hitman? That’s your plan?”

“Do you have a better one?” she shot back, her voice rising. “Because right now, we’ve got a blade hanging over our necks, and every second we waste brings it closer. I don’t care if it’s a terrible idea—at least it’s _something_.”

“No,” he said firmly, locking eyes with her. “But digging ourselves into a deeper hole isn’t the answer either.”

"Yeah, you ain't going to do it. If they want to harvest my organs in three years, at least I'll be alive until then." She flexed her fingers, making her to the door.

Before Jennifer reached the door, there was a sudden knock on it, making them both freeze. It was followed by a deep, authoritative voice.

“James, Jennifer Paall. Open the door.”

James exchanged a look with Jennifer, who was already struggling to her feet. “Monster Slayer Law Enforcers,” the voice continued. “We’re here to talk.”

“Stay here,” James whispered, his heart pounding as he approached the door. He opened it slowly, revealing three figures clad in black armor, their helmets obscuring their faces. Each bore a white tag on their chest, designed like a generic key of everything that appears on every slayer back.

They were from the Monster Slayer enforcement division gleaming faintly.

One of them stepped forward. “There’s been a report involving you and an attack on another registered slayer. A man named Henderson Kelp.”

James’s grip on the door tightened. “Attack? That’s ridiculous.”

The lead enforcer tilted his head. “We’re not here to argue. We just want to ask a few questions. Will you come with us?”

Jennifer appeared behind James, her face pale but determined. “We didn’t attack anyone,” she said firmly. “Henderson—he’s lying.”

“That’s for us to determine,” another enforcer said, his voice cold. “Now, are you going to cooperate, or do we have to make this official?”