The Oldest Dream of Eternal Night
Chapter 56: Emo Girl

Chapter 56: Emo Girl

Hassan’s Villa

Meanwhile, Hassan Adi lounged in an overflowing bubble bath, letting the hot water soothe his tense muscles. Steam filled the bathroom, fogging the gilded mirror. The scent of lavender soap clashed with the tension gnawing at him. His villa, perched on a Lewis Center hill, was a sanctuary of luxury, its stone walls hiding ancient secrets. A sharp knock at the door startled him. "I’m busy!" he growled, his deep voice echoing off the tiles.

"It’s your father, sir," the servant replied, her tone hesitant. "He insists."

Hassan sighed, grabbing his phone from the ledge. "What is it now?" he snapped, irritated. "It’s not the monthly check-in, is it?"

His father, Tarif Adi’s voice boomed in his ear, instantly souring his mood. "Have you found the Medusa Piece?" Impatient, authoritative, as always.

Hassan clenched his teeth, the water splashing with his abrupt movement. "Not yet. But it’s progressing."

"Progressing?" Tarif roared. "The Chronos family has already acted. The Fengs too. And you’re dragging your feet! I should’ve sent your brother from the start."

Hassan nearly leaped out of the tub, water splattering the floor. "He’s not my fucking brother!" he spat, rage rising. "Half-brother, if you must."

Tarif snorted, icy. "Half or not, he’s more competent. But you’ve got a chance. Do you know where the piece is?"

Hassan, fists clenched, growled: "Yeah. I can get it tonight."

"Good," Tarif cut in. "Then retrieve it. With your brother. He’s already in Lewis Center. I’ll send you the meeting address."

"No!" Hassan protested, but Tarif was unyielding. "It’s an order." The line went dead.

Hassan grit his teeth, the water cooling around him. "Asshole," he muttered. He stood, foam sliding off his bronzed skin, and grabbed a towel. Pulling on black jeans and an open shirt, he snatched his keys. At the garage door, two bodyguards, hulking men in suits, waited by his black Ford Mustang. "You can leave," he said, his tone sharp. "I’m going alone."

One of them, a bald man with a jagged scar, frowned. "Sir, it’s dangerous."

Hassan hesitated, a hard glint in his hazel eyes. "Just hand me a gun."

The guard, surprised, hesitated before passing him a Glock 19, its cold metal gleaming under the garage light. Hassan smirked, a cold twist of his lips. "Now I’m ready." He turned to the other guard. "You got what I asked for?"

The man nodded, handing him a folded piece of paper. Hassan unfolded it, memorized the number, and slid into the driver’s seat. The Mustang roared to life, its headlights piercing the darkness. He wasn’t afraid of the cops. In Lewis Center, he was untouchable. One call, and he’d be free, even with a loaded gun.

On the road, tires screeching on wet asphalt, he dialed the number. A soft, tired female voice answered: "Yeah?"

"They say you’re the best at this," Hassan said, his tone calculated.

"Indeed," she replied, a smile in her voice. "Who’s this?"

"An employer. Meet me in five minutes. Here’s the address..." He hung up, fingers tightening on the wheel. Five minutes later, he parked the Mustang near a flickering streetlight at the edge of a vacant lot. A silhouette emerged from the shadows, barely visible in the dim light. A woman in her twenties, strikingly beautiful. Her long, asymmetrical black hair framed a pale face with blood-red lips.

Tattoos—snakes, thorny roses, skulls—coiled up her arms, visible beneath a leather jacket and black crop top. Her kohl-rimmed eyes gleamed with mischief. A silver chain hung from her belt, clinking against her studded boots. She chewed gum, casual yet predatory. In short, she was an emo girl with a wet dog smell bonus.

"I see you live up to the rumors, Kara," Hassan commented, stepping out of the car.

Kara spat out her gum, a smirk on her lips. "You’re not bad yourself, for my employer." She slid into the passenger seat, her boots clacking on the floor.

"Can I?"

Hassan restarted the car, the Mustang speeding into the night. Kara, silent, lit a cigarette, took a drag, and blew smoke. The acrid smell filled the cabin. Hassan, lost in thought—his father, his half-brother, the Medusa Piece—frowned. "What the hell are you doing?" he growled.

Kara raised an eyebrow, blowing smoke toward him. "I took your silence for a yes."

"It wasn’t," Hassan snapped, slamming on the brakes. The car screeched to a halt. "Listen, I’m young, yeah, but I’m not in the mood. Don’t push me."

Kara laughed, a raspy, mocking sound. "Relax, boss. I was teasing." She stubbed the cigarette out by the window, her smile unwavering.

Hassan, jaws clenched, restarted the car. "Stay professional," he growled.

"Oki~" she sang, leaning back. "So, what’s the job?"

"What you do best," Hassan replied, his tone icy. "Kill."

Kara raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Who?"

"If I tell you, you’ll refuse. But I pay well." He opened the glove compartment, pulled out a thick envelope. "10k now. Double after."

Kara whistled, taking the envelope. She counted the bills, her black-painted nails glinting. "You’re generous, boss~" she purred, slipping the money into her jacket.

"Call me Hassan," he corrected, eyes on the road.

Kara smiled, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Alright, Hassan. Got a name for the target? It’s the least you can do if it’s really dangerous."

Hassan gripped the wheel, his gaze hard. "Not yet. You in or out? I can call someone else who can do the job."

Hassan stayed silent, his thoughts swirling. His half-brother, sent by Tarif, was already here. The Medusa Piece, hidden somewhere in this city, drawing the worst predators. It was actually embedded in Carter’s mother’s neck. Tonight, he’d retrieve it, no matter the cost.

His friend’s life and his mother’s wouldn’t last long.

Kara shrugged, popping another piece of gum. "Suit yourself, boss. But if things get hot, I want a bonus."

Hassan snorted, a cold sound. "You’ll get your money. Now shut up and get ready. We’ve got a meeting with my brother. And then, we hunt."

The Mustang sped into the night, its headlights cutting through the darkness.