When a Hitman Gets Haunted by a Ghost
Chapter 92: Edge

Chapter 92: Edge

Hale’s shoulders shook with laughter—cold, harsh, and mocking. "What reason do I have? Jefferson is dead. My job here is done."

"What about your cult?" Kant tried to bargain, refusing to back down. "If you jump, I swear, I’ll go back there and burn everything to ash. Such a thing as ’Lazarus Blessing’ will have never existed."

The wind howled around them, but Hale didn’t seem to care. He took a step closer to the edge, his shadowy form now looming even more menacing in the dimming light of the evening sky.

"It was doomed the moment it slipped from my control. I’ve accepted it. I understand now."

Kant took a breath, his fingers clenching into fists. Every nerve in his body screamed at him to charge, to tackle Hale, to stop this madness before it went any further. But one wrong move could send him over the edge. Metaphorically and physically.

"I couldn’t save anyone while alive. But when I did, it was not appreciated," Hale said, his voice suddenly quiet, as if he were speaking to himself more than Kant. "You don’t understand... You can’t understand what it feels like to be cast aside, to be abandoned by everything you ever loved... This world doesn’t deserve me."

Kant took a slow step forward, rain descending to pelt his shoulders. The rooftop’s slick surface turned treacherous beneath his boots. The edge of the rooftop yawned behind him dangerously. Still, Kant didn’t stop.

"You never loved anything," Kant said, voice low but firm, trying to cut through the storm and the venom. "You obsessed. Controlled. Damaged. It was wrong, but I get why."

He raised his hands slightly, not in surrender, but in recognition. "I know what it’s like to feel alone. To think there’s no one left who gives a damn whether you burn or vanish."

Hale turned slightly, just enough that Kant could see Gabriel’s face beneath the haze—the haunted lines, the war going on behind his eyes. The spirit still clung to him like a cancer, pulsing under his skin, making his expression twist between rage and despair.

The rain continued to beat against the rooftop, an incessant drumming that matched the rapid beating of Kant’s heart. He could feel the tension in the air, the weight of all that rested on this moment. This was a standoff, a battle of wills on a rooftop with nothing but rain and darkness as their witnesses.

"But then I met you," he repeated softly. "Gabriel."

Hale’s expression twitched, his gaze locked on Kant’s. Every muscle in his body was tense, coiled like a spring ready to snap. He looked ready to fight, to do whatever it took to escape. But Kant could see the hesitation in his eyes, the flicker of doubt.

"Gabriel is the hope in this world," Kant said, his voice low and urgent. "He deserves to live. Don’t you think so? Despite everything you’ve done, he still tried to help you."

Something flickered in Hale’s eyes—a twitch, a moment of surprise. Was it just a trick of the light, or had Kant managed to reach him? He couldn’t be sure. But he took a bold step forward, closing the distance between them despite the risks.

"But look at what you’re doing in return to that," he said, his voice still quiet but forceful. "You’re tearing apart his life, destroying everything around you to satisfy your own rage."

The words hung in the air, heavy with accusation and truth. Hale’s fingers trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil inside of him.

Kant took another step closer, his heart pounding so loud he could hardly hear himself think over the sound of the rain.

"You think everyone wronged you," he continued, "that the world owes you something. Well it doesn’t. You have a choice here. You can do one good thing and let Gabriel go and leave. Or you can keep holding on to the past and destroy both of you in the process."

They stood in silence, hopeless almost.

Rain poured in sheets and washed over the rooftop, foaming over the concrete. Deafening.

The skyline beyond was a jagged wall of steel and light, skyscrapers rising like indifferent gods under the bruised sky, their windows glowing in the distance. Thunder rolled over the area, rumbling like a mourning horn.

Kant’s breath came in tight, controlled bursts, each exhale turning to mist in the freezing air. His black parka clung to his body, soaked and heavy, the water running down his temples and jaw.

Every muscle was braced as he prepared for whatever action would come next.

Gabriel stood, his back still inches from the ledge that now glowed faintly in the scattered light from the surrounding city. Below, the world was a blur of orange sodium lamps and flickering neon.

Something was telling him this was the end.

"Let him go," Kant said again, softer now. "You know he’s done nothing wrong."

Hale didn’t speak. Gabriel’s body was trembling now, soaked to the bone. His jaw clenched, but his lips parted, and for the first time, his voice cracked—not with anger, but with anguish.

"I’m scared, Kant," he whispered.

Kant’s heard broke. He stepped closer, the wind slicing between them like a knife. "It will be okay."

A gust ripped across the rooftop, howling through the vents. The darkness receded hesitantly, lifting like a veil of defeat.

Kant reached out, his hand mere inches away. "Come here."

For a breathless heartbeat, Kant thought it might work.

But then the sound of boots thumping on the stairs behind them rang out. A voice barked through the storm.

"Security! Step away from the edge!"

Red emergency lights spun just inside the doorway, bathing the rooftop in eerie, stuttering blood-red pulses. Hale’s—Gabriel’s—eyes went wide with panic, pupils blown wide like a cornered animal’s. And in that moment, the fragile progress shattered.

"No!" the evil spirit snarled, spinning around as the first security guard appeared in the doorway, one hand on his radio. "If I couldn’t save the most important person, no one deserves to live!"

"Stop!" Kant lunged forward, but it was too late.

With a convulsing twist of his torso, Gabriel leapt backward. Over the edge.

"No!" Kant screamed.