SSS-Class Profession: The Path to Mastery-Chapter 307: Tick-Tock

The silence that followed those words—"Hello, Detective"—settled into the room like ash, coating everything in that stillness only predators can create.

I took a breath, slow, steady, the band on my wrist snapping softly as I shifted my weight.

"Who is this?" I asked, even though I knew.

A chuckle, light and dry, filtered through the phone. "Come on, Detective. You’re sharper than that."

His voice was exactly what I expected—calm, almost kind, but with that hollow emptiness in the tone, like it had been carved out of him and replaced with something else. A voice used to waiting, watching, planning.

"Hyena."

"Now we’re on the same page."

I glanced at Grant, who was watching me, eyes wide and bloodshot, waiting for any sign of what to do next. The patrolmen were frozen, shifting uncomfortably, hands near weapons they couldn’t use on a voice over a line.

"You expected us to find this place," I said.

"Of course I did." His voice was light, conversational. "You don’t do what I do for this long without assuming something will go wrong eventually. I knew you’d find this place, find the pictures, find the board. I regret making noise at Jacob’s house, truly. Maybe if I’d been quieter, you’d have never heard me in the attic."

My jaw tightened, remembering that night, the way the boards creaked above, the glimpse of pale hair in the dark before he vanished. A mistake on his part. One he didn’t usually make.

"You’re calling because you have demands," I said.

A small pause, a breath on the line. "Sharp as ever. Yes, Detective, I have demands."

Grant’s lips pressed into a thin line. The patrolmen looked at me, waiting.

"Why should I follow them?" I asked, letting my voice drop, calm, controlled.

"Because," Hyena said, the softness dropping away, replaced by something harder, "those people you saw? The children, the families, the parents—all of them are alive. But that could always change."

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting my Psychological Insight and Lie Detection skills settle, letting the edges of his words slice through the noise in my head. He was telling the truth. I could hear it, taste it in the spaces between his words. But there was something else—a strain, like guilt, pressing beneath the calm. He didn’t want to hurt them. But he would, if he had to.

"You don’t want to kill them," I said quietly.

Another breath. "No," he admitted, "but I will if it keeps me free."

The words were matter-of-fact, no flourish, no anger. Just truth.

"What do you want?" I asked.

There was a pause, a shifting of breath, as if he were smiling.

"One: I want the removal of all sector borders in the city."

I blinked, surprised despite myself. "You’re serious."

"They’re cages, Reynard," Hyena said, his voice tightening for the first time, just slightly. "And I need to escape."

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t.

"Two: I want ten million dollars transferred into a private offshore account I will specify."

Grant let out a breath, muttering, "Jesus Christ..."

"Three: I want unrestricted access to police archives, so I can remove any trace of myself from your records. Every camera feed, every note, every report. Gone."

I felt my jaw clench as I listened, committing each demand to memory.

"And four..." His voice shifted, almost playful, but with something dark beneath it. "I want Mary Steward back."

The air left the room.

"No," I said instantly, the word punching out of my chest before I could stop it.

A soft laugh echoed through the phone, a broken sound that was half amusement, half something else. "I thought I’d try," he said. "A little bonus, you know? Worth asking."

"That’s never happening," I snapped.

"I know," he replied, calm again. "Doesn’t matter. The first three demands are the real ones."

Grant was shaking his head, pacing now, whispering under his breath, "This is insane, this is insane..."

"Why now?" I asked, ignoring Grant, focusing on the breathing on the other end of the line. "You’ve been quiet for years and it would take us at least another month unless we got a random breakthrough."

"Because the clock is ticking, Detective. It always has been," Hyena replied softly. "My plays were sloppy lately and it’s time to move on, go somewhere new."

I felt the weight of those words, the finality in them.

"What’s to stop us from tracking you down, ending this now?" I asked.

A sigh. "Reynard, Reynard, Reynard. I know where you are at all times. I know what you’re saying, what you’re planning, what you’re thinking about before you even act. I have access to every communication line you use, every file you save, every camera you walk past."

My pulse pounded, but I kept my breathing steady.

"And if you try to trick me, with a fake account, with a tracker hidden in the money, with a false promise of tearing down the sectors, I’ll know. And I’ll pull the plug."

He meant it. He could do it. An S-Rank hacker with a web of systems woven so deeply into the city’s infrastructure that even our best cyber teams couldn’t root him out. He wasn’t bluffing.

"Let’s say we agree," I said slowly, each word deliberate, "We want something in return. I assume you know what I’m talking about?"

A pause.

"Of course! Every time a demand is met, you get some of them back," he said quietly. "The children, the parents, the ones you saw on that board. You complete a demand, you get some back. Piece by piece."

I glanced at Grant, who stopped pacing, his eyes wide, desperate. He nodded.

I swallowed. "We need proof of life."

"You’ll get it," Hyena said. "Soon."

Another pause, long enough to let the weight settle.

"But, don’t take too long," he added, his voice softening again, but that razor edge was back, slicing into the calm. "You have forty-eight hours to begin. If I don’t see progress by then, I start reducing the list."

I closed my eyes, picturing the board, the faces, the strings connecting them in patterns I hadn’t yet deciphered.

"And Detective?"

"Yeah."

"Tick tock."

The line went dead.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the phone’s flat beep, echoing in the broken room, bouncing off the shattered windows and peeling walls. freёnovelkiss.com

I lowered the phone, letting it hang by my side, the band on my wrist snapping softly as I flexed my fingers.

Grant let out a shaky breath. "What the hell do we do now?"

I looked at him, feeling the weight settle onto my shoulders, heavier than before, the promise I had made to the faces in those photos pressing against my ribs.

"We figure it out," I said.

"How?" Grant’s voice was calm, but somewhat unerved. "Tear down the sector borders? Ten million dollars? Delete police archives? That’s not something we can just do."

I stared at the broken window, the darkness beyond it, the city alive with quiet, hidden monsters in its veins.

"Maybe not," I said softly, "but we don’t have a choice."

The patrolmen shifted, looking between us, waiting for orders.

"Secure this place," I told them. "Bag everything. Get it to evidence, but keep it quiet. No leaks, no chatter. He’s watching."

They nodded, moving to follow the order, their movements tense, mechanical.

Grant rubbed his eyes, stepping closer to me. "You believe him, don’t you?"

I nodded once. "Yeah. He has them. And he doesn’t want to hurt them, but he will."

Grant nodded in acknowledgement. "And what of his promise? Will he give them back?"

"Without a shadow of doubt, I can promise you that."

Grant sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Alright...We need to call this in."

I nodded. "We will. But carefully."

I glanced down at the phone in my hand, its screen still cracked, the reflection of my face split down the middle by a jagged fracture.

"Tick tock," I whispered to myself.

The city outside was waiting, watching, alive with the hum of electricity and the distant echo of sirens. Sector 45 felt like it was holding its breath, waiting for us to make the next move.

Forty-eight hours.

The clock was ticking.

Visit freewe𝑏no(v)el.𝘤𝑜𝓂 for the best novel reading experi𝒆nce