Chapter 13:
9:00 AM
Magnus stood by the glass-fronted car dealership, Jessica waiting quietly at his side. She wore a simple yet elegant red dress, loose at the waist, modest at the chest with a short jessy jacket covering her shoulders. On her feet, nothing more than soft slippers. She looked entirely out of place in the glossy showroom, but her calm posture gave her a quiet grace. Magnus had told her to look harmless. She had succeeded.
Magnus's crimson eyes drifted over the rows of cars inside until a man approached him.
"Greetings, sir. See anything you like?" the man asked with a salesman's smile.
Magnus studied him. Short, sharp haircut, red eyes, not tall. The name tag read John.
"John... is it?" Magnus asked, his voice smooth. "I want a Shelby. A classic Shelby. The kind that's more than just a machine, hand-built, steel frame, a monster of American engineering. The '67 GT500. Metallic stripes across the hood, a body that roars louder than the engine itself. The kind of car that isn't just driven, it's commanded."
John's brows lifted. Most customers asked about horsepower or fuel consumption. Very few described a car like it was an old friend. Very few made it sound like a weapon.
"Great taste," John admitted with a smile. "But a car like that doesn't come cheap."
Jessica, who understood nothing of engines or models, wandered aimlessly around the showroom, admiring only the colors and shine of each vehicle. She touched a red sports car's hood, feeling the cool metal, wondering how many hands had polished it. She wondered if any of those hands had killed.
Magnus tilted his head at John, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "And who do you think you're talking to? I'll have you know, I'm one of the big shots around here."
"Is that so?" John smirked.
"You're speaking to a Reinhart, after all." Magnus' tone sharpened with pride.
"A Reinhart, you say?" John frowned slightly. "Never heard of one... but if that's true, I'll call the man who handles cars like the one you're asking for." He turned and walked away.
Magnus' smirk deepened. It wasn't often someone matched his presence so casually. He folded his arms, watching John speak to another employee before a taller man approached.
The newcomer had short blond hair and piercing black eyes. He was tall, but his frame lacked command. His tag read: Michael.
"Hello, sir," Michael said smoothly. "I believe you're looking for something special?"
"Everything in this world is special, if you know how to see it," Magnus replied coolly.
Michael's lips curved. "True enough. So what has caught your eye?"
Magnus slipped his left hand into his pocket, narrowing his eyes as he studied the man. "A Shelby," he said simply. "The classic."
Michael nodded once. "A fine choice. Follow me."
Magnus glanced at Jessica, who gave a small shrug. He chuckled under his breath, shook his head, then followed Michael deeper into the showroom. Jessica fell in step behind him, her eyes scanning the exits, the cameras, the blind spots. She was learning. Slowly, but she was learning.
At the Mortuary
Detective Jean and Nathalie stepped into the cold, sterile room lined with metal drawers. The air smelled of chemicals and something sweeter underneath, something rotten held at bay. The worker who escorted them bowed slightly. "Notify me when you're finished," he said, leaving them alone with the dead.
"Straight to business," Jean muttered, already moving to the first table. "Look for anything that can tell us more about the killer."
Hours passed in silence, broken only by the scrape of gloves and the click of cameras. The bodies were pale, marked, violated by death and then by examination. Finally, the two detectives returned to the office, dropping a stack of photographs onto the table.
"It's strange," Nathalie murmured, flipping through the pictures. "Every victim is missing patches of skin."
"Likely to erase the mark of their mafia house," Jean replied, rolling back in his chair.
Nathalie stared at him for a long moment before chuckling softly.
"What's funny, detective?" Jean asked, spinning lazily.
"The attacks," she said, laying the photos flat. "The slices, the gunshots, the precision, it's identical on every corpse. Same weapon, same technique. You were right. But whoever did this... their method isn't ordinary."
Jean leaned closer, examining the wounds again. "You're right on that one."
Nathalie exhaled slowly. "If it really is Magnus Reinhart behind that mask, then he knows exactly how to use those daggers. To kill two hundred men alone...? That's not ordinary. That's mastery. It scares me to know what kind of training he went through."
Jean said nothing. He was thinking of the scarred eye, the green eyes that matched, the family that died in Paris. He was thinking that mastery like that did not come from gyms and dojos. It came from pain. It came from being broken and choosing to break others first.
Back at the Dealership
"I believe this is the car you're looking for," Michael said, leading Magnus into a dimly lit section of the showroom.
There it stood: a 1967 Shelby GT500, its silver-gray body accented by twin black stripes running across the hood. A beast from another era, the kind of car that seemed alive even while standing still. The chrome gleamed under the lights, and the leather interior was immaculate. It smelled of oil and history and something almost human, like a warhorse waiting for its rider.
Magnus circled it slowly, taking in every curve, every detail. His fingers traced the hood, feeling the cool metal, the slight imperfection of hand-built craft. Finally, he nodded in approval.
"I'll take it. Now. Cash."
Michael chuckled under his breath. "You do realize this car is worth over eight million. Paying that in cash would be... reckless. It would leave you broke."
Magnus turned his crimson eyes on him, the air suddenly heavy. His voice dropped cold and commanding.
"I said I'll take the car. Cash. Bring me the papers." He turned away, dismissing Michael with a flick of his presence alone.
Michael froze, then glanced at Jessica, who stood quietly by the car. She only shrugged at his look. That was her answer. She did not know what Magnus was planning. She only knew that when he spoke like that, the world bent or broke.
Ten minutes later, Magnus was driving out of the garage in the sleek silver-gray Shelby, Jessica seated beside him. The engine's growl echoed like thunder as they rolled onto the street. Michael watched from the entrance, a small, satisfied smile on his face. He had made a sale. He did not know he had made a target.
Magnus lowered his window and called back, "Michael. Summon John for me."
Michael's eyes narrowed but obeyed. When John arrived, Magnus leaned on the wheel with a grin.
"Dear John... be at Le Jardin Bleu by 20:00."
Before John could answer, Magnus slammed the accelerator, the Shelby roaring into the distance.
Jessica glanced at him, confused. "So that's what the trip was for? Just to buy this car?"
"What else would it be for?" Magnus smiled, eyes on the road as the speedometer climbed.
"I don't know. You made me research that man... and then this."
"That research will be useful, honey," Magnus said casually. "After all, he's the first person you'll be training on."
Jessica's eyes widened. "Training on? What do you mean by that?"
Magnus' smile sharpened. "Michael will be the first person you assassinate. You know his movements. You've seen where to find him in the garage. It should be simple."
Jessica sat frozen, her breath caught, her eyes wide and unblinking. His words felt unreal, like a nightmare whispered into daylight. The car roared beneath them, fast and free, but she felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in. She felt the blade in her hand before she had even touched it.